#sinclair solutions

[rapturesbest]

Played fast and loose with those loyalties huh?

[brinaarcadia]

Persephone… secret home o' Sinclair Solutions. I bet against Andy Ryan's vision o' harmony in Rapture -- offered him a quiet place to send anybody who wasn't workin' out. And now I'm sittin' on my own private think tank. Technically, Utopia shouldn't have much use for a detention facility… but if you do business as long as I have… well, you learn to pick a brand name from the writin' on the wall.

[valentine47287]

[compassmili]

Sorry for ventposting so much

[megatronmayfield]

Constantly thinking about that tik tok where Sadie was asked to pick between Lumax and Elmax, and how she went to Lumax, and then almost immediately ran to Elmax.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 13: Dirty Wrestling

Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Delinquent!Childhood Bully Friend!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, dirty wrestling, mean!tomboy!reader, tease!reader, sub!eddie/dom!reader, s-dere reader (think like a playful Wednesday Addams), pervy!eddie, featuring f-boy!steve, modern au, childhood bullying, misogynistic views of women by the hellfire members and steve, kissing, mentions of amazon position, mentions of protected sex, mentions of overstimulation and multiple orgasms, reader gets the last laugh

Summary: Eddie so desperately wants to get laid and seeks you out as an option. He gets more than what he bargained for when he finds out the hard truth why you don’t stick your dick in crazy.

A/N: This was super fun and experimental and I don’t care that it flops I love it 🥰

Eddie groggily trudges into the lunchroom, appearing more disheveled than usual. He plops down into his seat, the bickering amongst his peers ceases as they look at him with concern.

“Eds, you look like shit.” Jeff says.

“Yeah, what gives?” Gareth chimes in.

Eddie darts his eyes on each side before speaking. “Cover your ears, little sheep.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas exchange confused looks. Impatient; Eddie waves a dismissive hand and they eventually obey grumbling about how stupid it is.

“Gentlemen, I want—no, no…I need to get laid. It is actually concerning,” Eddie begins, flexing his fingers in an open and shut fist. “This hand…satisfies me no longer. I need to get my dick wet or I think I might go insane. It’s gotten so bad to the point where this morning, I opted to ride a crowded bus instead of driving simply because I wanted to feel the warmth of a woman. As the kids say, ‘I am down horrendous’.”

“Me too,” Gareth sighs in frustration. “I don’t even care for penetration. I just want to be held.”

“Boy, I’m sure lucky I’ve got a girlfriend to get laid whenever I want. I mean, well…whenever she wants,” Jeff’s smile slowly fades as he stares into space. “It’s been 3 weeks and counting but it’ll be anytime before she comes asking. Aaaanytime.”

“I bet I’d get some before Jeffy gets any again.” Gareth chuckles.

“Not before me.” Eddie challenges.

“Are you both making a bet on the basis of my suffering?” Jeff asks, nostrils fuming.

“Yep, yeah, pretty much.” Eddie and Gareth say in unison.

“And how the hell are you two planning on doing that? We’re lucky we even lost our virginities to begin with. Where the hell are you two going to find girls willing to sleep with you when you can’t even look ‘em in the eyes?” Jeff inquires.

“Maybe I could direct you plebeians to a solution?” Dustin interjects, causing the three older boys to turn their attention his way. He’s tapping the tips of his fingers together, a mischievous smirk on his face,

“No offense, Henderson,” Eddie scoffs. “But what the shit could you possibly help us with? Just last week, you thought the condoms in Steve’s bedroom were balloons.”

“Obviously, I’m referring you to him. He helped me build my confidence with the ladies,” Dustin trills in a dorky growl that causes everyone to cringe. “Wouldn’t have the guts to speak to my Suzie-poo if it weren’t for him. If you’re looking to make some happy screams, he’s your guy.”

“No way,” Eddie laughs. “I’m not some sorry loser taking a class on picking up chicks.”

“That’s exactly what you are.” Lucas argues.

“Au contraire, Sinclair,” Eddie begs to differ. “Would a sorry loser shred ‘Master of Puppets’ on guitar after just a week of listening to the song?”

“Yes, that’s huge loser energy.” Mike answers.

“We have a campaign to run in a week,” Dustin says. “I’d rather you two have the heads on your shoulders to be in the game and nothing otherwise.”

And pathetic as it is, Eddie and Gareth would soon find themselves in front of Steve’s dorm room. Dustin lays a few knocks on the door as the older pair internally ping-ponged between pessimistic embarrassment and optimistic desire.

Steve opens the door with a knowing smile. “Well, well, well boys. I’d say I’m surprised to see you but my loyal client here has informed me of your arrival,” He touches two fingers to his temple as if to concentrate his ‘powers’. “Lemme guess, you both wish to consecrate with women.”

“I…think you mean ‘consummate’.” Dustin corrects.

“That’s what I said,” Steve snorts, throwing open his door and gesturing inside with a repeated swat of his hand. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road, I’ve got a date with twins. One at 8 and the other at 10.”

“Twins?” Gareth whisper-yell, shooting Eddie a look of excitement.

“You’re bluffing.” Eddie dismisses.

“If I’m lying, I’m crying,” Steve says before showing off his phone screen with a photo of the girls. “And you don’t see any tears, do you?”

“Teach us your ways, oh, great Master.” Gareth says in awe.

“That’s King to you. Have a seat and listen well, boys.” Steve instructs before sitting on the edge of his computer desk while three boys sit on a small sofa across from him. “First off, you gotta weigh out your options. If you’re in it for the long haul, then you can go for the girl that takes a lot of effort to get. These are usually the girls you might’ve been pining for, for a while. But since you’re looking for a quick nut, then you’ll need to weigh out your feasible options. Gare Bear, whatcha got?”

“Helen from the drama club. Oh, and there’s this cute barista at my local coffee shop that’s been giving me the eye whenever I come by. She even puts a heart over the ‘i’ in my name.” Gareth says.

“You don’t have an ‘i’ in your name.” Eddie says, blinking in bewilderment.

“I know her!” Dustin exclaims. “My mom does some light chatting with her here and there whenever she picks up her coffee. The ‘eye’ you’re referring to is just an involuntary twitching of the eye from prolonged exposure to bright lights in the shop,” Dustin explains to Gareth who begins to slump in defeat. “B-but on the bright side, they’ve fixed those pesky lights recently so if she’s giving you the eye, it’d be for real this time.”

“I’m pretty sure she puts an ‘i’ with a heart on everyone’s coffee cups,” Steve adds. “Cute girl but not the best speller.”

“You’re not helping, buddy.” Dustin sing-songs, through gritted teeth.

“What about you, Munster? What’re your options?” Steve asks with an inquisitive rubbing of his chin.

Eddie searches his thoughts. “No one.”

“You’ve gotta give me something to work with, fellas,” Steve sighs. “Someone’s gotta come to mind.”

“Dude, what about that juvie chick? The one who lives in the same park as you,” Gareth suggests. “Wasn’t she like your childhood friend or something? You’d be so in there!”

“(Name)?! Fuck no!” Eddie shouts. “She wasn’t my friend. She was my first bully.”

————

Age 13

The first time he’d met you, you were both in cuffs at a police station. The two of you sat across from one another as you awaited to place a phone call to your guardians.

Suddenly you retrieved a hair pin from your mouth, clutching it firmly between your teeth as you brought your shackled hands up to your face and picked the lock. Not a moment later, you were free. Eddie could only watch on in awe as you stood up, the cops too busy to notice you.

“A little help here. I can’t have my uncle see me in this place again.” Eddie whispered to you.

“Of course.” You said with a sweet smile before tossing the bobby pin at his feet. “Good luck.”

With a quick blow of a kiss, you strode away and Eddie’s expression morphed into bafflement and dismay.

“Hey! I can’t reach it!” Eddie shouted but you’d been long gone and he’s now alerted the police to your departure.

Age 14

Since then, he was sure he’d never see you again until he briefly attended an alternative school and ran into you again. The moment you saw him, you purposefully tripped him to the ground for ‘ratting you out’.

The torment only seemed to worsen once you began to actively seek his friendship because very few were brave enough to befriend you. Sometimes, you’d invite him over to your trailer home and he’d get a glimpse of exactly why you are the way you are. As you are the youngest and the only girl in the family of a workaholic father and 3 older brothers who were just as chaotic and malicious as you. Then came the day you’d make your ‘friendship’ official, when you all but cornered him in the boys’ locker room.

“Munson, I’m looking for a best friend.” You nonchalantly asked, unfazed by the half-naked boys running amuck at your presence.

“Are you stupid? You can’t be here! You’ll get in trouble.” Eddie chastised.

“What else is new?” You shrugged before taking his hand. “Come on, applications are open and I can’t imagine being besties with anyone other than you.”

“W-what happened to the last guy?” He asks while recalling the last boy toy that you’ve once dragged around the school.

“Let’s just say the ‘bestie’ slot opened up after my last one yelled at me in class. Heard he got visited by the men in white that very same day. Something about an anonymous person calling into a mental institution to report him for his aggression. Wonder who it could’ve been.” You ended with a feigned innocent look.

Eddie really wished he could’ve said ‘no’. But he couldn’t dare end up like the last guy. Even as his peers from behind your view, mimed and charaded away gestures advising against it—, Eddie reluctantly agreed. Thus began a whirlwind of a friendship filled with lots of delinquency and drama.

Age 15

Then by the grace of whatever, Eddie had been able to leave the alternative school and attend Hawkins High after teachers cited an improvement in his performance in his classes. He was finally going to be free.

“It really sucks to see you go. You’re probably going to be so lost without me. If you’d like I could create a distraction that’ll allow us to stay together.”

“No!” Eddie yells then immediately adjusts his tone. “I mean…no. It’s probably for the best that I go to a boring old public school. We had good times but, alas, we must part. I could only hope that we’ll meet again someday.”

“Well, you may be going to a different school but we can still hang out afterschool. We live in the same place after all.” You beamed.

“I’m moving,” Eddie quickly lied. “Possibly very far away. To a remote area that’s so far, there isn’t even an address you can call in to or send me letters or anything.”

“Damn, sounds like my last juvie center. I’ll be wishing for the day we meet again, bestie.” And with that you gave him a crushing hug.

It was a shitty thing to do. Lying to a supposed ‘friend’. He knew. But what else could he have done? You were a lot and sometimes quite the nightmare. He’d have died an early death messing around with you. Ever since then, he avoided you at all costs, making sure to never cross paths with you again. He’d done so successfully for about 3-4 years. Hell, you’ve probably forgotten about him.

If he’s that lucky…

———

“She made me take the fall for a lot of things she did, treated me like a lapdog, made me get into situations where I could’ve died— you know, she once tied me to a tree and left me there for an hour. I had to break out of it on my own only to find out that she’d been only a couple feet away, timing my escape. Last I heard, she hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, but have you seen her as of late? She’s fucking hot. I’d thank her if she were to spit on me.” Gareth says dreamily while Dustin furrows his brows in disgust.

“Then why don’t you try your luck with her instead?” Eddie asks.

“Because she’s clearly into you.” Gareth retorts.

“I’d advise neither of you two to mess with her,” Steve warns. “The hotter a crazy woman is—buckle the fuck up because you’ll be in for a wild rollercoaster ride. Your inexperienced nerdy hearts couldn’t possibly take that much excitement. They don’t call her ‘The Siren’ for shits and giggles.”

“Siren?” Eddie questions.

“Sirens are evil mythical creatures that lure men to their dooms.” Dustin clarifies.

“Sounds about right.” Eddie mutters.

“You guys ever heard of Norm Prescott?” Steve questions ominously.

“Who?” The boys ask at once.

“Exactly,” Steve says while pointing a finger. “Norm was a kid in my year. Good kid. Captain of the robotics club. Member of the swim team. The poor bastard came across her page on a dating app last year, messaged her, fucked her and he was never seen again. Rumor has it, he went completely insane after one night with her and needed to attend college in a different city in order to be free of her spell. Pussy from a crazy chick will ruin your fucking life. Heed my words: Do not stick your dick in crazy.”

“I don’t know…That sounds kind of metal.” Eddie admits.

“Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?” Gareth asks.

“Pretty much everything from the way that eerily sounded.” Dustin shudders.

“Dudes, she’s not actually some evil mythical…” Eddie’s voice trails off before he correctly starts up again. “She’s not a mythical creature. Just an adrenaline junkie with a sadistic streak.”

“Somehow that sounds worse.” Dustin comments.

“So you’re going to do it?!” Gareth asks.

“‘Course not,” Eddie scoffingly laughs. “I’m desperate…but I’m not that desperate.”

“Good boy,” Steve praises before taking a swig of his beer. “The tale of Norm Prescott is a cautionary one. I don’t want to see any of the people I care for lured to their doom. Oh…and I guess I wouldn’t want that for you guys either.”

“I think I’ll go ahead and consider myself lucky that I’ll never have to experience some shit like that.” Dustin sighs in relief.

“Wait for it.” The older three reply in unison.

———

Eddie’s stomach churned with envy when he learned that two days later Jeff had gotten some from his girlfriend, noticing the bounce in his step. It felt almost like a bad omen to him which confirmed his paranoia when Gareth had bragged to him about receiving the local barista’s number, citing King Steve as his guru.

Though no serious stakes were in place, Eddie truly felt as though he’d max out all his options. He couldn’t possibly be the only one caught in a dry spell when he’s already regarded as a freak enough!

Maybe a night with you didn’t seem so bad after all.

“I see that look in your eyes,” Steve says, tossing a card into the pile before suavely leaning back in his chair. “You’re thinking about fucking her, aren’t you?”

“Gah, this again!” Dustin groans, angrily tossing a card on top. “It’s already bad enough I nearly walked in on Nancy and Jonathan doing the ‘hokey pokey’ while needing the bathroom at Mike’s place. Something must be in the air. Hormones, pheromones, angst—I don’t flippin’ know.”

“H-how is she by the way?” Steve says breaking his f-boy persona. “She ever asked about me.”

“Yes, Stevie, I’m sure she thought of you while getting railed against a bathroom sink by Johnny boy.” Eddie says sarcastically.

“You’re a little snappy.” Steve grumbles.

“Because I’m frustrated,” Eddie cries. “Gareth’s probably going to get off before me. In fact, everyone will—maybe even you’ll get some before me, Dustin, because apparently I’m so much of a loser that I can’t get a single girl to want me.”

“Maybe you should just go for the crazy chick. It’s been years. I’m sure she’s changed. Befriend her again so that you’ll finally get some action and we don’t have to hear you yapping about being a sad little virgin all the time. I mean, how bad could she really be?” Dustin poses the question.

“Norm Prescott…” Steve singsongs.

“But did he die?” Dustin counters.

Steve stands corrected, quirking his head. “You’ve got a point there.”

“Sh-should I really? What if she hates me?” Eddie ask timidly.

“Hate sex with a crazy lady? Sounds like a deadly mix. Not a bad way to go if you ask me.” Steve says.

———

“Hot date tonight, tiger?” Wayne asks with an amused smile and arms crossed as he leans against his nephew’s door frame.

“Actually, I’m going to see an old friend.” Eddie says vaguely, causing Wayne to tilt his head in suspicion.

“You mean that sailor-mouthed girl you used to get up to no good with? Didn’t you used to beg me to lie about your whereabouts to her?”

“We were only immature children then, Way-dog,”Eddie excuses. “We’ve grown apart from our former selves.”

“Just last week, you asked me to schedule a dentist appointment for you because you were afraid to speak to a live person.” Wayne deadpans.

“I was…saving my vocals for a gig.” Eddie justifies.

Wayne sighs, knowing exactly what his nephew is going to get up to. So like the supportive parent that he is, he slips a row of condoms into the pocket of Eddie’s leather jacket.

“Just be careful, son,” Wayne says while patting his chest. “Wearing protection can save you in a lot of ways—“

“O-kay, I’m getting a little uncomfortable. Goodbye.” Eddie flushes red, knowing by now that his own uncle knew the rule of crazy women and that his poor nephew was too far gone to help himself.

Once Eddie’s out the door, his body shakes at the thought of seeing you again after all these years. Would you remember him fondly or as a liar?

Then, he spots you sunbathing in a lawn chair, puffing a vape pen and flipping through a magazine. You’re in a tight yellow bikini with only a small sheer coverall around your waist. Your skin looks so well moisturized, he can tell you’d feel so soft. That thought alone was enough encouragement to keep him going.

He clears his throat and you choose to ignore it at first until he’d done it again. You lower your heart-shaped sunglasses, glaring up at him for a moment before your expression softens—in fact, it brightens once he’s sure you recognized him.

“Bestie…that you?” You ask, rising to your feet.

“In the flesh.” Eddie says nervously shifting his weight on either foot.

“It’s been so long,” You hugged him with that same crushing power that was all too familiar. He should be traumatized but instead he shudders happily, breathing in your vanilla scent. “How are you?”

You pulled away and he had to catch himself from pathetically chasing your embrace.

“I’m great. Really great. Y-you look like you’re doing well, too.” Eddie says with an anxious giggle.

“I am. Thanks for noticing,” You say almost suggestively. “You wanna come inside so you and I can properly catch up? My brothers aren’t home.”

“Yes!” He says a little too eagerly and it makes you laugh.

“Well, come on in then, partner. Don’t be shy,” You beckon, taking his hand and leading him into your lair. “I only bite when necessary.”

His heart beats a mile a minute when instead of being led to sit at the sofa, he’s dragged to your bedroom. He fiddles with his fingers nervously as you begin to lock the door. You turn to face him again with that famous mischievous smirk.

“You remember as kids when we used to play doctor? Those were fun times, right?

Dustin was sooo wrong. You didn’t change whatsoever and Eddie’s slowly regretting his decision.

“Y-yeah. So fun,” He lies, swallowing the hard lump in his throat before taking steps back at your inching approach. “Though, you had me shitting bricks at times when you suggested we use real medical tools instead.”

“I was only messing with you.”

“Hard to believe that when you used to chase me with a pair of scissors.” The backs of Eddie’s knees hit the edge of your bed and his arms flail to keep himself upright.

“But friends can tell little white lies here and there? I never intended on hurting you. Not too badly at least. You know a thing or two about lying to your friends…don’t you, Edward?” The moment you’re a little too close for his liking, Eddie dashes from in front of you and towards your bedroom door but the complicated locks scramble his brain. He quickly faces you again, not wanting to keep his eyes from you too long in case you do something.

You plant your hands on either side of his head, closing the gaps between your bodies. Your full breasts are pressed up against him and yet he’s too scared to care.

“Why’d you lie, bestie?” You ask. “Didn’t we have fun times together? We roughhoused, got into some wild antics, and we even cried together.”

Except, it was Eddie that was doing most of the crying!

“I-I didn’t mean to…t-o...” Eddie says, voice pitched high.

“To lie? Oh, Eddie, mother tells me that when a man lies, he certainly means to do so,” You give a low, dark chuckle. “So after all these years, Eddie, why did you decide to see your dear old pal again?”

“T-to apologize.” He swallows.

“With your cock?” You ask with an innocent tone, batting your lashes. You glide a hand up his inner thigh until it lands on the hard bulge in his jeans, palming him in your surprisingly strong yet dainty-looking hands.

He gasps, fearing that you’d be psychotic enough to break his dick. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Just please let me go and I will never bother you again.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go,” You flick your tongue along the bottom length of his straight nose. “But I’d like to play a game…for old times sake.”

“Is it ‘smackdown’?” He whimpers.

“I was actually going to suggest a game of ‘Go Fish’ since you’re always so good at that,” You blink blankly before a sinister expression takes over. “But I like your idea.”

He curses himself in his head, helpless as you grab fistfuls of his jacket and drag him away from the door.

‘Smackdown’ was a wrestling game the two of you created sprinkled with your own sadistic twist in which you two used to wrestle one another. Eddie quite liked to play wrestling with you but as a scrawny kid back then, you’d always win the match. The rules were that you’d have to pin your opponent to the ground for at least 7 seconds. Winner gets the choice to do whatever they want.

If Eddie’s going to get himself out of this mess, he needs to use all the strength he’s got. No holding back. Luckily for him, he’d grown a lot bigger than you.

On either side of the room, you two stare intensely at one another. Eddie charges you with a loud battle cry and pins you down to your fluffy white rug. He’s never had this much of the upper hand. Never gotten past 3 seconds. It’s almost too good to be true.

But when he’s gotten past 4 seconds his heart soars as he can practically taste the freedom. Seeing you struggle for free yourself beneath him was quite satisfying within itself. But then at the 6 second mark, you made the cruelest move yet…you reminded him of his desperation.

You lunged forward and kissed him.

Distracted by this, Eddie releases your wrist in shock. You’re quick to gain the advantage as you roll on top of him and pin his wrists down for the 7 seconds.

“I win.” You gloat.

“You cheated!” He hisses.

“You’re allowed to play dirty or did you forget the rules.”

“What are you going to do to me? Scour the internet for the worse medieval forms of torture to use against me?”

“Tempting,” You say and Eddie wishes he’d shut his big fucking mouth. “But I like my idea better.”

Digging your nails into his scalp and gathering a large amount of his hair in your hand, you crash your lips onto his again. Your other free hand fiddles with the zipper of his jeans and he moans into the kiss when your hands are enclosed around his girthy member.

“I’ve got this new wrestling move I’ve been dying to try,” You whisper against his lips before nipping the bottom lip. “I like to call it the amazon warrior power press. Wanna see?”

By the time you’re through with him; you’ve tossed him in every position you could think of and used him like a proper toy—you’ve officially ruined all women for him. He’s never been fucked as if he were a slut. Cum-filled condoms like inflated balloons piling up beside his head after every round; he’d lost count after 4.

He was a drooling, pussy-drunken fool by the end of it but you gave him no time to bask in it as you’d pushed him out of your home practically naked.

In his underwear, his clothes and shoes in a balled-up mess in his hands—deep hickies and love bites littered all over his skin, he looks up at you on your porch with a desperate yet hopeful smile. His friends will mourn Eddie Munson for he, too, has been cursed with the same spell that once begot Norm Prescott. And even worse, he didn’t have the capacity to care.

“Will I get to see you again?” Eddie says while fumbling to catch his things from falling. “I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. M-maybe I could get your number?

“Sorry, bestie,” You say, faking a sad pout. “But I’m moving.”

And with that, you shut the door square in his face.

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 1

Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: This text combines three chapters written at different times, so there might be slight differences in style. Also, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes))

Warnings: Shitty humor

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

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the picturesque town. It was a quaint, almost idyllic place, with its cobblestone streets and charming old buildings—a far cry from the darkness that lurked within the reader's soul. She stood at the edge of town, a lone figure amidst the bustle of the afternoon crowd. Tall and imposing, with an air of quiet confidence that set her apart from the ordinary townsfolk, she surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

The Y/n was not here by choice. No, she had been sent—a pawn in a game she had no desire to play. Her parents, in their infinite wisdom—or perhaps, their utter lack thereof—had deemed it necessary to exile her to Nevermore Academy, a school for misfits and outcasts. It was a punishment disguised as a solution, a way to rid themselves of a daughter whose darkness they could no longer abide.

And so, here she was, alone in a town that reeked of desperation and decay, a stranger in a strange land. It was a bitter irony, she thought, that a creature such as herself—a creature of the night, born to roam the shadows—should find herself so utterly exposed in the harsh light of day. But she was not one to dwell on self-pity, nor was she inclined to mourn the loss of a home she had long outgrown. No, she would embrace this new chapter of her existence with the same ferocity that she embraced life itself.

With a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes, the Y/n turned her gaze towards the looming silhouette of Nevermore Academy, its spires reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a long-forgotten deity. And as she took her first steps towards her new prison, she couldn't help but wonder what twisted fate awaited her within its hallowed halls.

*Y/n POV*

As I stepped into the imposing entrance hall of Nevermore Academy, I was greeted by the sight of a young girl. She was dressed in the school uniform, her blond hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Welcome to Nevermore Academy," she said with a wry smile, extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Enid Sinclair. And you must be the new arrival."

I nodded, returning her handshake. Enid's warmth and charm were a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hung me like a shroud.

"Nice to meet you," I replied with a forced smile. There's no point in being rude, this school is my last resort, and it's better to try to be nicer to people. "I must admit, I wasn't sure if anyone would meet me."

" I always give a tour of the school to new students, especially since you will be my roommate." A smile spread across her face. God, I wish I could be as carefree "It's going to be so much fun, you, me and Wednesday are three new best friends".

Three best friends? Well, that's one way to look at it—a trio of misfits ready to conquer the world, or at least survive sharing a room.

"Wow, lucky me," I muttered inwardly, plastering on a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "I've always wanted to be part of a trio. How did you know?" 

I forced another polite smile, masking my inner cynicism with practiced ease. "Okay, we can't stand here all day. Let's go. "

After walking around all the main areas of the school, Enid and I headed towards our room. The whole time we were walking, I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was definitely going to be interesting. Enid had her own issues, but I'd always been attracted to people who looked at the world with an unhealthy amount of optimism. Talking to her should dilute my morbid thoughts with a touch of sweet idiocy. For being alone with myself again does me no good, though it gives me a lot of pleasure.

“So, roomie, ready to see your new abode?” - Enid said with a smile, her hand resting on the doorknob. With a casual shrug, I followed her into the room.

A huge room greeted us, with beds on both sides. The left side was a riot of colors, what I would call “colorblind worst nightmare” It was a cacophony of hues that defied description. Plush toys adorned one wall. Well at least it is not dakimakura with half-naked characters from anime or furi costumes. On the other side of the room, the atmosphere was stark—black linens on the bed, a desk, and a typewriter. Its practically untouched. It felt more like a museum piece than a living space, devoid of any trace of personality. Enid had mentioned that the other girl had only recently moved in…

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM ROOM?” – Enid asked in irritation.

Her voice startling me out of my thoughts. Distractedly looking around the room, I completely missed the girl who was tearing off colored stickers from the right half of the huge window. It must be Wednesday.

“Dividing our room equally,” replied Wednesday, her voice dripping with disdain. She kicked the last of the colored paper to Enid's side for emphasis. "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side." She finished in a calm tone, as she returned to the desk at her side of the room.

God, I love drama.

“I...” I could literally see Enid's ears steaming right now.

“Silence would be appreciated.” Wednesday spoke as she quickly cut her roommate off. "This is my writing time."

I like this school already.

“Your writing time ? ” Enid asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wednesday rolled up her sleeves as she situated herself in front of her typewriter. “I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same your vlog might be coherent.” she slides the carriage of the typewriter to the side as she continued, “I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.”

She read serial killer diaries? One point to the goth girl.

Enid clenched her fists “I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love.”

“Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” Wednesday stood up from her desk as she moved infront of Enid. “They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures.”

“Uh, you mean emoji's?” a small smile appears on Enid face “It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you.”

“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” She continues “By the way, there are two D's in Addams." she moved back over to her desk. “If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.”

“Ahem”- as much as I'd love for this delightful show to continue, I can't just stand there like an idiot with things to do. I could certainly settle down nicely on my suitcase to brew some coffee and continue watching this wonderful drama, but I think sooner or later they'll notice me.

“Oh, sorry about that please, I'm just not used to this attitude. Wednesday, meet Y/n. She's going to live with us too.”

“That's okay, Enid, you can continue this lovely conversation, very intriguing actually. All I need to do is put my things somewhere and ideally lie down myself. The long drive and the splendid but somewhat drawn-out tour, has tired me out.”

Wednesday turned to me. “Nice to meet you, now if you'll excuse it’s my writing time,” she said, before turning back to her typewriter. She began methodically tapping the keys of her typewriter.

I smiled to myself, amused by the interaction. These two were definitely something else.

“Ms. Thornhill has decided that your bed will be on Wednesday's side, there's more room and the closet is close by. Bed should be arriving soon, but in the meantime, you can lay out your things, the outer two doors are yours.”

“Got it, okay then, that's what I'll do for now.”

Taking the suitcase in my hands I headed over to the closet, starting to put things away. I've always had a problem with this, not that I don't like it on the contrary, pedantically folding shirt to shirt, pants to pants, has always calmed me down. Things in the closet should look like they're on the counter of a boutique. If something doesn't look right, I can't sleep well.

Enid put on a song. I guess this is another one of God's tests for all the sins I've done. Don't get me wrong, I like music, but on rare occasions. People who play it on a regular basis to soundtrack their daily routine are the real psychopaths.

“Turn it off!” Wednesday gets up from her chair and heads over to Enid.

I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the exchange. It was moments like this that made me grateful for immortality. Trying not to attract attention, I peeked out from behind the locker door, amused by the unfolding drama.

“This is your final warning!”

As she got too close Enid raised her hands and let out her rainbow painted nails out a claw. “Don't mess with me. This kitty’s got claws and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Suddenly the door swings open and a woman walks into the room.

“Good evening girls.” She looks around the room throwing a glance first at me and then at Wednesday. “I wanted to make sure that Wednesday and Y/n was settling in...”

She walks to the middle of the room, kicking up mud from her shoes on the wooden floor…. It drives me insane.

“I’m Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome.”

“She's been smothering us with hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep”.

Such unconcealed aggression, I like it.

“Enid did a great job of showing and telling me everything, thank her so much, and it's nice to meet you,” I interjected, wanting to move the conversation along.

Ms. Thornhill turned to me, offering a warm smile. “I'm very glad it went well.”

“The only thing I would like to ask about is the bed. I wouldn't really want to sleep on the floor on the first day in such a beautiful place. It would have dampened all the excitement I got out of today.”

“Oh right, the guys were supposed to bring it, but it looks like they're running late. I'll have to find them again and tell them.”

At this rate, I was going to sleep on the floor tonight.

“Ms. Thornhill, why do we need the guys? Why don't you just show me where to get it, and I'll take it from there? I think I'm strong enough to do that,” I replied with a sweet smile.

She looked at me in disbelief. I smiled a little, letting her catch a glimpse of my fangs.

“Ah, okay, I didn't realize right away. Not all vampires who are in this school have abilities such as strength or speed, so...Let's go,” she said, turning around and heading for the door. I followed her, casting a disdainful glance at the dirt left on the floor.

Who even does things like that?

Y/n POV

The walk with Ms. Thornhill was uneventful, except for her curious glances, which I pretended not to notice. She seemed… overly friendly, and her cheery disposition grated against every instinct I had. There was something unsettling in how her smile lingered just a bit too long. Still, I played the obedient new student—sweet smiles, polite nods, not even a hint of fangs. It wasn’t hard to find the storage area, cluttered with dusty furniture and half-forgotten relics from who knows how long ago. With little more than a gesture, I hefted the bedframe onto my shoulder, making it look far easier than it should have been.

As I walked back through the hallways of Nevermore, I couldn’t help but scan the dimly lit corridors and high arched ceilings. This place was dripping with history and secrets—I could practically taste it in the air. I wondered what kind of skeletons were hiding in these closets and whether any of them were literal. The thought amused me enough to crack a smile, which I quickly smothered when I caught sight of the door to our room.

Returning to find Enid attempting to cheerfully hang more decorations—and failing spectacularly in the face of Wednesday’s withering glares—was almost worth the trouble. Almost. I stepped into the room, set down the bedframe with a soft thud, and stretched slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh that earned me a sideways glance from both girls. I raised an eyebrow at Wednesday, who, naturally, looked unimpressed.

“You’re back,” she stated flatly, her attention already returning to the clack of typewriter keys. “I’d begun hoping you’d gotten lost and decided to stay that way.”

I grinned, leaning casually against the wall as I met her icy gaze. “Oh, did you miss me already, Wednesday? I’m touched.” I let my words drip with playful mockery, watching for her reaction.

She didn’t even pause her typing. “I don’t miss nuisances. They have a way of making themselves known whether one wishes it or not.”

“Well, it’s good to know I’ve made an impression,” I replied lightly, crossing my arms. “I do so hate being forgettable.”

There it was—a slight pause in her keystrokes. Barely perceptible, but I saw it. Victory. She resumed typing, but I could see the muscles in her jaw tense, and that alone was worth every ounce of effort. Behind me, Enid let out an exaggerated groan.

“Can you two not flirt for five minutes?” Enid asked, half-exasperated and half-amused as she tossed another garish pillow onto her bed.

“Flirting?” I said innocently, a hand coming to my chest. “Enid, I think you’ve misunderstood me. I was simply trying to have a civil conversation.”

“Your idea of civil conversation seems to involve needling people until they bleed,” Wednesday remarked coolly, finally glancing my way. “I’m sure you’re quite proud of yourself.”

“Oh, very,” I said, flashing a grin that showed just the hint of fang. “But I only needle people who are interesting. Take that as a compliment.”

Her expression didn’t change, but there was a spark in her dark eyes. A dangerous, calculating spark. “Compliments from you hold about as much value as a counterfeit coin. Useless and possibly diseased.”

I tilted my head, letting my smile widen. “And yet you’ve pocketed it anyway.”

“Enough!” Enid interjected, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m already regretting my decision to be roommates with either of you.”

“I thought we were best friends, Enid?” I teased, giving her a mock-wounded look. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

As the brief silence fell, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter, the clack of the keys resuming with renewed vigor. I moved to finish setting up my space, feeling her presence keenly even as she pretended, I didn’t exist. But I knew better. She’d noticed me, whether she liked it or not. And I intended to keep it that way.

I focused on arranging the few belongings I had, keeping one eye on my two roommates. Enid flitted around, determined to keep the atmosphere upbeat despite the thickening tension, while Wednesday remained stoic, her fingers tapping out words with relentless precision. The mechanical clatter of the typewriter filled the room, a fitting soundtrack to our peculiar dynamic.

As I stowed the last of my clothes, I moved to the shared windowsill. Half of it, Wednesday’s half, was bare and colorless, just like the rest of her side. I dragged a finger across the divider she’d drawn—black tape down the middle, stark and deliberate. When she’d divided the room, she hadn’t left any margin for negotiation. That was fine. I wasn’t one to negotiate either.

“Did you choose the décor yourself?” I asked, tone light but teasing. “It really says a lot about you.”

The typewriter stopped mid-sentence, and her head turned, her expression a mask of cold detachment. “If by ‘a lot’ you mean ‘nothing,’ then you are correct. My surroundings reflect my disregard for frivolity.”

I leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed, giving her a slow once-over. “Yes, I see that. Stark, somber, a touch of morbidity… What’s next, Wednesday? Iron bars over your window? A ‘keep out’ sign? Or is this already your version of a welcome mat?”

“Those who need signs to warn them of danger are already too foolish to avoid it,” she retorted, her voice like ice. She didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of her attention settle on me like a dare.

“Danger? That sounds intriguing.” I stepped closer, deliberately closing the space between us. “But I’d rather find out for myself than take your word for it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she’d lash out. Instead, she simply pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape and stood. “Are you always this insufferable?” she asked, stepping closer herself. We were nearly face-to-face now, her glare as sharp as a blade.

“Only when I’m provoked,” I said, my voice softening, the challenge in it unmistakable. “Or intrigued.”

For a heartbeat, I thought she might reach for one of her knives. It wouldn’t have surprised me. But then she stepped back, and the flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by a cold, composed exterior. “Intrigue is a fleeting distraction. You’ll tire of it soon enough.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I murmured, watching her turn her back to me and return to her typewriter. I had to give it to her; she was disciplined. She’d withdrawn from the confrontation as if it hadn’t fazed her, as if the moment hadn’t happened. But it had.

Enid broke the silence, plopping down onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t this supposed to be like… the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

“I don’t recall asking for friendship,” Wednesday replied without looking up.

“And I don’t recall rejecting it,” I added with a smirk, earning a scoff from Wednesday.

“See?” Enid grinned, ever the optimist. “Progress! I’m telling you, we’re going to be the best trio ever. Just give it time.”

“Optimism is a fool’s currency,” Wednesday stated, resuming her typing. “It’s usually spent too freely and leaves the owner penniless.”

“Good thing I have plenty to spare,” Enid shot back, unfazed. She turned to me. “Y/n, you’ll see. She’s all doom and gloom now, but she’ll warm up eventually.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I said, letting the implication linger. “Though I have to admit, I like her just the way she is.”

Wednesday’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second, and my grin widened. There it was again—the tell that she was paying attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

Enid reached for her phone, likely ready to drown out the tension with music or social media, but she paused, her expression curious. “So, Y/n… what brought you to Nevermore?”

“Exile,” I said simply, my voice taking on a darker edge. “I’m here because my family thought it would be safer to have me… away.”

Enid blinked, unsure whether I was joking. “Safer for who?”

“Exactly.” I allowed a flicker of my fangs to show, then shrugged. “But this place isn’t so bad. It might even grow on me.”

“It’s full of disappointments,” Wednesday said coolly, not missing a beat. “Don’t let the shadows fool you.”

“Disappointments keep things interesting,” I replied, stepping back toward my side of the room. “And I’ve always been drawn to interesting things.”

I felt her eyes on me even after she turned back to her writing. This was going to be fun. Dangerous, maybe—but undeniably fun.

The next morning, the air was crisp, and a thin layer of fog crept around the gothic towers of Nevermore Academy. I found myself sitting on the edge of my freshly delivered bed, lacing up my boots. The rest of the room was quiet, but I could feel a watchful presence. Turning slightly, I caught Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror; she was silently observing me while pretending to prepare her things. Her eyes were intense as ever, like she was sizing me up, waiting for me to make the first move. It amused me, and I made no effort to hide my grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased, breaking the tension in the room.

She blinked, a slow, deliberate motion that barely disguised her disdain. “Please spare me your nauseating pleasantries.”

“Why, Wednesday, it almost sounds like you didn’t sleep well.” I stood, stretching. “I’d say I’m hurt by that, but I do recall you typing well into the night. Plotting murder, perhaps?”

“If I were plotting murder, you wouldn’t have woken up,” she replied with a deadpan expression.

I laughed softly, loving how quick she was. “Noted. I’ll try to be more deserving of your mercy.” I leaned closer as I passed her on the way to the door. “For now.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was far from indifferent. Oh, this was definitely going to be an interesting place.

The hallway was bustling with other students, each an oddity in their own right—shapeshifters, psychics, sirens, and more. I navigated the throng with ease, catching glimpses of curious eyes that lingered just a moment too long. Whispers followed me. New arrivals always attracted attention, and I wasn’t exactly the type to blend in.

“Y/n!” Enid’s cheery voice pierced the noise, and she bounded over like a hyperactive puppy, practically glowing with excitement. “How did you sleep? Oh! You’re going to love breakfast here—it’s the best part of the day!”

“I’m surprised you managed to sleep at all with the ambiance,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I half-expected bats to swoop down from the rafters.

“Oh, they’ve tried.” She shrugged with a wide smile. “But seriously, come on! The sausages are to die for.”

I followed her, letting Enid’s chatter wash over me. She was like a rainbow in this dreary place, and, strangely, I found her optimism a welcome contrast. Wednesday walked a few steps behind us, silent and brooding as ever. It was almost comforting.

The cafeteria was a storm of voices, laughter, and clinking trays. Enid led me through the throng of students, her energy a stark contrast to the brooding architecture of Nevermore. We found a spot at a small table near one of the tall, stained-glass windows. As I settled in, a presence made itself known—a girl with sleek black hair, crimson-tinted sunglasses, and a confident air that turned heads without effort. She walked up, holding her tray like she owned the place.

“Mind if I join?” she asked, but it was rhetorical. She was already sitting down, her eyes on me.

Enid perked up. “Oh! Y/n, this is Yoko Tanaka. Yoko, meet Y/n. She’s new.”

“Yoko,” I repeated, my gaze trailing over her with casual interest. I extended a hand, playing along. “Nice to meet you.”

Her grip was cool, steady. She didn’t let go right away, and her lips curled into a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine. So, Enid’s newest roommate, huh? Welcome to the madhouse.”

I returned her smile, undeterred by the playful challenge in her tone. “Thanks. From what I’ve seen, I’m going to fit right in.”

“Really?” Yoko’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. “It takes a lot to fit in here. But something tells me you’ll manage.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not... ordinary, are you?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I might,” she replied, the light catching the edge of her sunglasses. “Most newcomers are easy to read. But you? You’re a little... more.”

Wednesday, who had been quietly picking at her food, suddenly spoke up. “If you two are done exchanging veiled flirtations, there are more important matters at hand.”

I turned my gaze to her, a smirk playing on my lips. “You know, Wednesday, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Jealousy is a pointless emotion,” she said flatly, though her eyes seemed to darken. “I simply despise wasted time.”

“Oh, so you’d rather spend your time... constructively?” I asked, feigning deep interest. ���Writing your next bestseller or analyzing the cafeteria’s murder statistics?”

She set her fork down with deliberate precision. “Both. I find productivity in all things. Unlike some people who waste their breath on hollow banter.”

“See?” I leaned forward conspiratorially, turning to Yoko. “This is what I get for trying to lighten the mood.”

Yoko laughed, a rich, throaty sound that drew a few glances. “You two are something. But don’t worry—I enjoy the kind of banter that makes the daylight hours less boring.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, deciding to prod a little. “To liven things up for me?”

She pushed her sunglasses up, revealing striking eyes that glimmered with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. Vampires don’t often get surprises, you know.”

“Vampires?” I arched an eyebrow, pretending not to know. “Is that what we’re calling ourselves these days?”

Enid jumped in with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Y/n’s also a vampire, Yoko! You two should totally hang out. Maybe you can teach her the ropes!”

Yoko’s smile widened, showing a hint of fang. “Oh, I’d be delighted. As long as she doesn’t get scared too easily.”

I matched her smile, unflinching. “Scared? That’s not really my thing.”

“Good.” Yoko’s voice dropped, her gaze sharpening. “Because there are plenty of things in Nevermore that will test your limits. I’d hate for you to miss out.”

Before I could respond, Wednesday stood up abruptly, gathering her tray. “This conversation has officially crossed into drivel. Some of us have standards.”

“Leaving already?” I asked, enjoying the way her expression never wavered.

“Unlike you, I have productive tasks awaiting me.” She paused, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Try not to lower the collective intelligence of the room while I’m gone.”

I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

She left without another word, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was a hint of amusement hidden beneath her icy exterior. Yoko watched her go, then turned back to me, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Good,” I replied. “I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

[not-neverland06]

Bad Day

part two

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 

You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 

“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 

“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”

You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?

Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 

“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”

“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”

Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, “I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 

There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”

“Ally-”

She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 

Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 

You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”

You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 

At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.

“Y/N, wait!”

You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  

“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 

You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 

You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 

You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 

You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”

You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”

The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 

“Anyone need a hand?”

Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 

He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 

He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”

You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 

“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”

The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”

You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”

He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 

“I could give you a ride.”

You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”

He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”

You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 

You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”

“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 

The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 

You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 

You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 

“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 

“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”

You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”

“Maybe Bo could fix it.”

He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 

You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 

“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”

You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”

He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”

Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”

He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 

You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”

You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 

“Hey, up there.”

“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”

“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.

“Maybe there’s someone in there.”

You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 

God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 

You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 

But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 

To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 

“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”

Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”

The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”

Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”

Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”

“Y/N-”

“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 

Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 

You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”

You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”

You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”

He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”

You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 

You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 

“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”

”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 

You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 

Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 

You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 

“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”

You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 

“Do you work here?”

Nothing. 

He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 

He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 

You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 

“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”

God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.

He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 

TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 

Please just be extremely socially awkward. 

“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”

He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 

But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 

Vincent

“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 

You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 

“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”

Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”

Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”

“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”

You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 

Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 

He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 

“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 

It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 

“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”

Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”

You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”

He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”

You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 

You really needed new friends. 

You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”

“Any of these look right?”

You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 

You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”

“Two and a half!”

You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 

His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 

Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 

“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.

“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 

“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 

Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 

You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 

“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”

“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 

You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”

He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 

You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 

This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 

He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”

Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 

“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 

“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”

“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”

Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”

“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”

He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 

Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 

“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”

You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Well, how long you been friends?”

“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”

“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 

“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”

You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 

“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 

“Yeah, no one.”

“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”

Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 

“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”

Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 

“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 

“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”

”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”

”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”

He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”

You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 

You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 

You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 

You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 

Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 

Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.

There could be plenty of explanations. 

He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 

He liked to dabble in drag. 

He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 

You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 

Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 

It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 

There were only so many things you could ignore. 

A blood covered claw was not one of them. 

You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 

This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 

You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 

Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 

“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 

Nothing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 

“Y/N?”

You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 

The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 

“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 

“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 

You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 

But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 

You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 

“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 

“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 

“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”

”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.

His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 

His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 

“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 

But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 

Tear you apart right here in the street?

Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?

You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 

You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 

You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 

You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 

“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 

“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 

A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 

Nine Inch Nails. 

That’s what you could process when you woke up.

The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 

You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 

Fuck my life

Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 

You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”

Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”

Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 

He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”

You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”

He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 

Now, your wrists. 

Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 

You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 

You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 

You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 

You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 

You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 

Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 

You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 

You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 

Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”

You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 

You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 

You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 

Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 

Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 

You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 

You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 

Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 

Shit, that hurts. 

You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?

You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 

Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 

You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 

BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 

Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.

Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.

There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 

You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”

You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 

“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 

Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 

“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 

You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.

“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 

Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 

You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 

You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.

Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 

But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 

“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 

“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 

You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”

You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 

You didn’t think you enjoyed it.

Didn't want to enjoy it. 

But you dug the blade in. 

He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 

You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”

You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 

Part two

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[creepswrites]

i've been dealing w/ a lot lately and wanted to write something nice so. enjoy.

SLASHERS w/ A GN! S/O WHO IS DEALING WITH DEPRESSION & ANXIETY

MICHAEL MYERS

"I just don't feel like doing anything..."

Michael gives you space if you ask for it but will still stand and watch you from the corner of the room

He's not the most outwardly affectionate person but you can tell he's worried when he comes over to squeeze your wrist once or twice

And you can tell he's worried sick when he points at the television as an invitation to watch a movie with him

He'll let you cuddle against him and he plays with your hands or hair and actually does hold you back

(It's not that he's NOT affectionate, just not usually like this)

The two of you can spend all day watching silly tv shows and movies to make you laugh

Every day may not be good, but there is something good in every day.

LESLIE VERNON

"Oh my god, Leslie, I think I'm having a panic attack."

Your hands are shaking so bad, you're sweating cold, and your vision is starting to get spotty as he hurries over to catch you

He rocks you through it, sits you down on the floor, and keeps you close to his chest while running his fingers down your arm or through you hair

Leslie's voice is soft and grounding as he tries to talk you back down

When you're finally able to breath again, you break down into such guttural sobs that he just holds you and rocks you gently

He lets you stay over at his house, you two get your favorite for dinner, and he reminds you that if you ever need to talk, he's there

After watching a movie, you talk to him about it. About how everything feels so overwhelming, how you feel helpless and out of control, and how you feel alone. He listens, really listens. And right now, that's all you really need: to just talk it out with someone

Even the darkest hour only has 60 minutes.

STU MACHER & BILLY LOOMIS

"I feel like everything is going wrong."

Stu happily listens to you vent about your problems and tries to drag you out on walks or to see movies or something

Definitely the type of guy to take you to amusement parks to give you constant dopamine hits

Billy, in contrast, will give you solutions to your problems and gives you space

He's not the most emotional guy so he tries to give you space to sort out your thoughts

So you've got a good balance!

Whenever they catch you starting to spiral again, Stu will go grab you a drink or a blanket while Billy tries to talk you down, reminding you that your problems are temporary and you will be okay

You've survived everything up till this point. You will continue to survive.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

"Do you hate me?"

Honestly, Vincent is surprised you could even think that!

But he understands how your mind works at this point so he takes you aside and opens the floor for you to talk

Everything just spills out. Small things he may have done on accident that just began to pile up, larger things that have just added to weighing you down, everything

Anyone else would think you were blaming him for your problems but he didn't see it that way. He saw you finally cracking and asking for his help to fix things

He can't magically solve everything for you but he supports you, showers you in hugs and kisses, and starts talking to Bo about maybe driving you out of Ambrose every so often to see someone about your mental health

You're grateful for his help. Everything feels so much less overwhelming when you have someone to hold hands with while you try to get help

Small, baby steps each day add up to huge, giant leaps over time. Don't give up.

LESTER SINCLAIR

"I think everyone hates me."

Lester's head snaps around and catches you staring down at your phone with wet, sorrowful eyes

You break down when he hugs you, spilling everything about a fight with your friends that left you scared. Not sad - scared

That's what sets off alarm bells in his head. He puts your phone aside and listens to you talk, vent, cry, anything you need

You're afraid. Afraid of what your friends said, worried about what they might tell others, and a petrifying anxiety that you'll end up alone

But Lester reminds you if they do that, then they were never really your friends to begin with

He peppers your face in kisses and reminds you that, no matter what, he will always love and care for you. Even if the whole world was against you, you'd always have him Jonesy comes and sits in your lap, licking your face and hands as she tries to smother you in her love as well!

Don’t dwell on those who hold you down. Instead, cherish those who helped you up.

[inkher0]

"Poppy sounds great on every feature she's in" yea I wonder why. Surely it's not because she's Devoid of Personality as an artist. Hopefully she's not about to release an album that sounds exactly the same as the music she made in 2018, which is going to be Ignored Completely by the weirdos she's trying to attract

Poppy is the Drake of the Alt Girl music genre and I will die on this hill

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part one here

Eddie Munson x Reader

Steve Harrington x reader (not for long)

I hope you all enjoy part two 💞💞

❤️

Get over it. Those three words were permanently etched in your mind the last few days. Eddie's furious gaze and the venom behind his words.

The words sink in slowly but when you do it's like you can't think of anything else. You had to get over your feelings for Eddie and make them disappear so you didn't ruin your friendship with him over this.

Even with him being mean it was obviously something that you needed to hear. There was no use being a bitch to Emery, she liked Eddie and you could never fault anyone for that, could never fault Eddie for having a modicum of happiness in a town that was such a bitch to him.

You needed to hear Eddie say what he said, it had shocked you into realising that you couldn't spend the rest of your life mooning over him.

Get over it. Get over your feelings. That's what you would need to do. How you would do it was another question. One that played on your mind all week.

Mostly you avoided Eddie. Didn't want to see that annoyed look in his eyes aimed at you or hear the harshness of his voice. It was on Friday that you were offered a solution to your worries at Hellfire club.

Since you missed last week there was no way that you could miss another session, so with slight trepidation, you head into the drama room. Eddie's eyes snap up as you approach the table and he clears his throat.

"Where were you last week? We were a player down. Had to ask Sinclair's sister to step in" You smile and wish you could have seen that. Erica would be a great addition to Hellfire, she was as focused and brutal as you were at the game.

"Sorry, headache" his gaze is still on you and you do your best to avoid his curiosity. For the first time, you're grateful when Emery comes bounding up to him and chatting excitedly about some movie and wanted to see.

Then she's gone again and it's just you and Eddie alone, "I haven't seen you much this week?" He points out and you shrug and say you've been busy.

The rest of Hellfire joins you and Eddie to your relief and also shock, between Dustin and Mike was a very nervous-looking Steve Harrington. What was he doing here?

Dustin wastes no time in telling Eddie that Steve is here to join in for a session. He sounds so excited which is sweet and Steve to his credit musters up enough enthusiasm. This can't be his idea of fun so the fact that he's doing this for Dustin is pretty adorable.

Eddie seems fine with letting Steve join as a guest, though he does mutter that he never thought he'd see a king grace the freaks liar.

You make sure Steve is comfortable throughout and joke with him when he seems anxious. He's good at missions, loyal and a hero as a character.

He's also a huge flirt. It takes you a little bit to notice but when you do it leaves you flustered, Steve was handsome and he wanted to flirt with you? That was something you never expected.

Dustin noticed and eventually so did Eddie, you could see his patience thinning towards the end when Steve was flirting with your character pretty heavily. "This is a campaign, not a dating session" Eddie snaps and Steve winks at you.

You don't notice the way Eddie's eyes darken at the sight but even if you did it's not like it meant anything.

💞

Eddie has never been a fan of Steve Harrington. King Steve. Sure the guy seemed to have come a long way since graduating high school but Eddie still didn't like him. He couldn't believe that Harrington of all people was a great guy, no matter how much Dustin insisted that Steve was a badass.

It was the little butthead that got you and Steve talking, Dustin had begged him to join a Hellfire session and Steve agreed albeit reluctantly. He showed up looking nervous and actually anxious to impress Henderson.

That was fine, Eddie could deal with Steve in his orbit if it made Dustin happy. Maybe Steve was a decent guy after all?

It took Eddie an hour into the session to shake off those good natured feelings because for the last ten minutes Steve has flirted with you, in and out of character.

He's only bothered because it distracts from the game. That's why he's so snippy with you and Steve. It has nothing to do with the dreamy look that you give Harrington. Nothing.

Then Hellfire ends and Monday arrives and you're giddy, almost bouncing off the walls and for the first time in over a week you aren't avoiding him.

"Someone's in a good mood" Gareth grins and Mike makes a face. "Ugh don't. She was on the phone with Nancy all of Sunday swooning about Steve while Nancy was crowing about Jonathan, gross" Eddie feels something sour inside of him but puts it down to the after-effects of still being annoyed that Harrington was distracting you from the game on Friday.

"Oh yeah dude, Steve told me about the date" Dustin smiles and begins teasing you. Date. One word that rings in Eddie's ear. You had a date with Steve Harrington?

"We're going to a movie tonight. He's sweet. I like him" Mike and Jeff pretend to fake gag while Lucas rolls his eyes and Dustin looks annoyed at their reactions.

"Steve, you're going on dates with Steve Harrington?" Eddie repeats himself and you beam at him.

"Yes, like I said. He's sweet"

Eddie does not spend the entire day stunned and maybe a tiny bit annoyed that you've fallen for Harrington's charms.

He does not spend all of Thursday bemoaning to Emery when Steve picks you up every day after school and he does not feel like he's been punched in the gut when he sees a hickey on your neck.

No he doesn't. Nope.

Except he does and he doesn't know why the thought of you and Steve keeps him up at night.

💞

Eddie was being weird. It had been that way since last Friday when Steve joined Hellfire but it has kicked up a notch since then.

It escalated even more when Eddie walked in on you and Steve making out on your bed, Steve's arms wrapped around your waist as you sat on his knee. He was shirtless and moaning softly in your ear.

There was a yelp, startled you look up then lock eyes with Eddie who had a faint blush on his cheeks and the strangest expression.

"Sorry, shit. Didn't know you were here Harrington" he practically flies out of the door and you follow him.

"Eds you okay?" He's at the bottom of the stairs and his face is pale, eyes blank and there's a tenseness to the way he stands. He swallows and nods.

"Fine princess. Just didn't realise Steve was here" you shrug and hold a finger to your lips in a shushing motion.

"Shh, the parents don't know that. He snuck in through my window" you expect Eddie to laugh but he's still so quiet and lets out a strangled huff.

"Scandalous" he smirks but his big brown eyes give away his mood. You pause as you take in his expression but he moves away before you can say anything or maybe it's because Steve comes down the stairs while tugging on his shirt.

"I should go, honey, I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" you nod and Eddie is still quiet. He's watching after Steve as he goes with a frown on his face.

"I brought over a movie we could watch. If you want" he holds up the video and you nod eagerly, you're anxious to put this tension behind you and Eddie before it strains your friendship (more than it had been strained already)

So you watch the movie and things are still awkward but it's fine. It will all be fine right?

💞

Steve and Eddie do not get on. In fact, you're pretty sure the dislike is mutual on both sides. There's a party that Chrissy has thrown and you're there with Steve. Eddie is skulking around while doing deals and you can feel his eyes on you several times.

Emery isn't with him which you find strange as usually they are attached at the hip. Steve stiffens and you notice Eddie is walking over to you.

"Hey, sweetheart. Need me to drive you home after the party?" on the few rare times that you attend parties Eddie always drives you home.

"I'm driving her home. We're going to watch a movie after" Steve tells him and Eddie scowls, you can sense an argument brewing and it makes you nervous.

"Easy Harrington. I was just asking, I always drive her home after parties" Eddie snaps and a few people around you stop to watch the growing tension between the two of them.

"Yeah and I'm her boyfriend now Munson so she doesn't need you to" you intervene before things can get really heated.

"Steve, can you get me a drink please?" He nods tightly and heads over to the drinks table, once he's gone, you round on Eddie.

"What the hell is your problem?" you demand and Eddie shrugs, still glaring at Steve.

"My problem is your boyfriend. What do you see in him? His stupid hair and shit. I didn't think you'd ever fall for his shit. I mean what the hell do you even talk about?" you look away flustered and when you catch Eddie's eye his eyes flash with something you can't place.

"Oh I get it you don't talk much" he grits out and you roll your eyes. Your love life was none of Eddie's business.

"We do, he's a really lovely guy. Dustin adores him as does Lucas and even Mike and Gareth. It's you who has some stupid grudge. I get that his friends made your life hell Eddie, they did it to me too but Steve isn't like Carol or Tommy, he hasn't spoken to them in two years"

"You told me to get over whatever was annoying me about Emery, that's what I did," you tell him and he looks confused.

"What does that have to do with Steve? Why do you have to date him" he demands and you glare at him, body vibrating with fury.

"He's a nice guy, he's kind and he's handsome and sweet and if you have a problem with that then maybe you should get over it" You storm off and leave him standing there absolutely stunned as you go and find Steve.

💞

There was a frantic pounding at the trailer door later on that week and Wayne was the first to answer it. He had witnessed Eddie in a slump for almost two weeks now and he would bet it was about you dating the Harrington boy.

If it made his nephew get off his ass and see that you were perfect for him then Wayne was all for it. Emery was a sweet girl and all but Wayne knew his nephew, knew that deep down you held his heart. Even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

So he's not surprised to find you at the other side of the door. He learned from Eddie that he and Emery split up and now you were at the door with a furious expression on your face and the drama continued.

Wayne sighs, "Hey honey. Eddie's sulking in his room" your expression flickers a little.

"Right because he and Emery split up" Oh lord give him strength as he was pretty sure he might have to knock you and Eddie's heads together.

"Nah, that ain't why honey. He's been an idiot and I'm all for you chewing his ass out but maybe not too much yeah? He's realising some things, about time if you ask me" You nod politely and don't dare talk back to Wayne, it wasn't his fault his nephew was a butthead

When you head through to see Eddie he's sprawled in his bed and listening to music but clambers out of bed when he sees you.

"Princess, what are you doing here?" your concern overrides your anger at him as you wonder how he's doing, he and Emery broke up so suddenly. Even if he's been a dumbass he's still your friend, your best friend.

"I heard about you and Emery. I'm sorry" he settles back on the bed.

"It was coming anyway, I shouldn't have dated her in the first place. She's nice but she's not... Anyway, how's Steve?" The question makes the anger inside you spike again and your eyes fill with tears.

"Steve broke up with me because of you, said we obviously had things to discuss and he didn't want to get in the middle of it" you snap and Eddie's face falls as he reaches for you but you step away from him and wipe the tears that fall down your cheeks.

"No don't. What was your problem with Steve and me dating? You told me. You said whatever it is that's causing you to act like a bitch then get over it...so I did, or I was trying to with Steve and I would have if you hadn't acted like such an ass" You're fuming and raise your eyebrow at Eddie in confusion, beg him to tell you what he's thinking.

He swallows and his big brown eyes meet yours, "I was wrong. I don't want you to get over it, get over me" You gape at him and he's hiding his expression while looking away, playing with a lock of his hair as he does, a habit that you've forever found endearing, even now when you're filled with annoyance at your best friend.

"Eddie Munson. Why did you have to go and realise this at the most idiotic time, I don't believe it either. You were so...you were so mean when you told me to get over it, you like Emery...not me" Tears pool in your eyes and he rushes to you and wipes them away.

"She kinda helped me see sense, that no best friend should feel so jealous and feel like they wanted to punch Steve is his perfect teeth just for making you giggle and for kissing you, the thought of you and him tore me up inside and yeah I deserved it".

"I was the one who pushed you into his arms and I hate myself because I'm in love with you"

Frustration fills you and you groan while fighting back tears but there's a part of you that feels elation that he loves you too but you're still pissed. "This isn't fair. I've been trying to get over you, why did you have to realise this now?" Oh shit Eddie's eyes meet yours and he looks stunned.

"You like me?" God, he wasn't dense so why was he being so blind to how you feel.

"I'm in love with you Eddie, that's why I was so weird with Emery" he gapes and closes his mouth then after a minute he speaks again.

"So when I told you to get over what was making you act weird around Emery... Well you did" he finishes quietly.

He swallows back his emotions and desperately wants to hold you but fights down the urge to soothe your fears away. You would only push him away right now.

"Yeah I realised now because I'm an idiot who didn't realise what they had until it was gone but I want to be with you if you still want me" It's the truth, he means it with every fibre of his being.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was an asshole and I get that you have a hard time accepting that I feel the same way, I'm sorry it took all the time to realise how I feel but I promise you that I'm not going anywhere, if you just want to be friends then okay but if you want more then I'll wait for however long it takes"

You wipe your tears away and nod. Then murmur that you need time to think for a bit. Eddie watches you go with a renewed feeling in his heart. He will do anything to help you see that he really does want to be with you.

Before you leave he calls you back and presses a gentle kiss on your hand. "I mean it, princess, I adore you and I'll spend every day proving that to you" You're silent for a few seconds and Eddie bites his lips feeling nervous.

"I mean I get it if you don't feel the same way now, I messed up. Do... do you still love me?" You soften and he waits anxiously for your answer.

"of course, I still love you, Eddie. Fuck, you are so annoying" he beams at this, all dimples and there's a small smile on your face as Eddie walks you out of the trailer. Wayne is watching the scene with a smirk on his face and Eddie blushes at Wayne's knowing look.

"About damn time boy" he proceeds to ruffle Eddie's hair and he hears Wayne laughing all the way as he rushes to his bedroom still blushing.

❤️

[missmonsters2]

—Lips Over Your Nightmares

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares haunt you every time you close your eyes, and Wednesday offers a solution in the form of comfort only she is capable of.

Warnings: Soft!Wednesday. Possessive!Wednesday. Intimate. Wednesday ran out of patience. Emotionally charged confessions. Kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I said wednesday is soft for her girl and I will take no arguments about it. The act of kissing in this fic is peak wlw. I'm sleeping on the highway tonight and taking you all with me.

Count: 2.6k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Nighttime could be hellish.

It was probably why Wednesday adored it so much. 

You loved it too. There was something divine about the nighttime. People feared the dark, but you saw it as an opportunity to rest your weary eyes and bones. The night gave way to being invisible, and there were some days when that was all you could bear to be. 

But to Wednesday Addams, who loved the dark, you could never be invisible to her.

It was a blessing and a curse. 

To be seen by Wednesday—it was something more than many people could ever hope for. 

But to be seen when you wanted to be invisible? It was like being dragged without anything to hold onto. 

Nighttime was hellish, and you wanted to disappear into the dark as your nightmares plagued you until you couldn't even tell what was the dream and what was the reality.

But Wednesday Addams saw you. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

You've missed Enid's late-night studying session again. It's the second week in a row that Enid's gotten a text from you two minutes before the session started.

"I guess we can start," Enid told the group with a disappointed smile. "She's not coming today either."

"Fuck," Xavier sighed. "She's the only one who's good at art restoration. I was hoping she'd help me with my assignment."

Wednesday's face scrunched together mildly, and Xavier rolled his eyes. "Except for you, Wednesday. But you hate teaching me and I hate learning from you."

"I can't help it if you're stupid," Wednesday dully replied. 

"Not all of us can do it perfectly after being told what to do—told only once might I add," Xavier raised his brow at her.

Wednesday shrugged, which only seemed to irk Xavier more and to prevent them from bickering further, Yoko turned to Enid and asked, "Why isn't she coming?"

Enid shrugged, her lips quirked to the side as they pressed together. "She texted to say she wasn't feeling well and couldn't make it."

"She does seem tired lately," Bianca commented, her expression in deep thought as she recalled the last two weeks when she saw you. "Also, really quiet. Well, quieter than she normally is."

There were murmurs of agreement around while Wednesday sat silently. Of course, she also noticed, but she was waiting for you to say something to her. You always told her whatever was plaguing you, even when Wednesday told you she didn't ask. Wednesday was used to hearing your mundane thoughts or solving your problems. 

But there was nothing this time, and Wednesday couldn't figure it out. She tried to think back to see if anything had changed—if something had happened, but there was nothing. 

Two weeks of leaving you be was enough, though, Wednesday decided as she packed her things into her bag.

"What! Wednesday, are you leaving too?" Enid groaned. "But I need help with botanical sciences!" 

"Ask Bianca," Wednesday didn't even look up.

Enid looked at the siren, who had a deceitful, happy smile.

"I'd be happy to help you, Sinclair. Let's talk The Poe Cup negotiations first."

"Absolutely not!" Enid scoffed before turning back to Wednesday with pleading eyes. "Wednesday..." she whined.

"Ask Xavier," Wednesday didn't budge.

"But all he does is draw in class. There's no way he's doing well."

"I'll have you know I'm getting a C," Xavier looked affronted.

Enid merely stared at the sullen boy for a long moment before she turned back to Wednesday. "I'll just wait for you tomorrow after school."

Xavier was about to say something else when Wednesday briskly nodded, standing up and leaving the group behind without another word. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was completely silent on the other side of your door, and from its looks, it was dark as no lights were shining underneath it.

Wednesday knocked in three successions. 

There was no answer. 

If it were anyone else, they would've believed you weren't there and left, but not Wednesday.

No, she knew you far too well. 

This was a place where you could truly be invisible with no roommate.

Wednesday knocked insistently until she heard shuffling, an agitated huff, and footsteps approaching the door. 

The door only opened marginally. You looked mildly surprised to see her, but Wednesday supposed you had too little energy to manage anything more. 

There were dark circles under your eyes, and they looked puffy and slightly red around the edges from lack of sleep. Your skin was pallor, which suited someone like Wednesday, but she decided it was not on you. Your hair lacked its usual shine, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she finished scrutinizing you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly. 

"Are you going to just let me stand out here?"

"I'm not in the mood for company, Wednesday," you blinked slowly. 

It was new.

You were usually happy for Wednesday's company whenever she stopped by, and you often visited her dorm. 

"I have had enough of this," Wednesday glared at you through the gap in the door. "You will let me in."

"And if I don't?" You challenged back, and Wednesday almost wanted to applaud the snippy attitude you've mustered through the tiredness.

"Then I will wait out here and ensure you don't get a. Single. Wink. Of. Sleep." It was a threat that tugged at your nerves. You looked at Wednesday, and for a brief moment, she thought she won before you shut the door in her face. 

Disbelief clouded over Wednesday's eyes. 

Then, Wednesday began to knock incessantly over and over on your door. Her knuckles knock with a vengeance, and she'll be damned if you think she doesn't take absolute joy in torturing you. 

It worked because you open the door wider this time, as you stare at Wednesday with a glare.

"What part of 'I'm not in the mood for company' was unclear, Wednesday?" Your voice was gruff, and Wednesday could tell that you were still trying to not snap at her despite how tired you were. 

And that in itself was everything. It was like that all the time. 

You were always trying to be considerate of whatever feelings you thought Wednesday might have while gently pushing her to admit which ones she was truly feeling. 

Maybe that was why Wednesday could never leave you alone now.

You were a gateway to things Wednesday never wanted, and she genuinely thought you should pay for making her desire things she swore she'd never want. 

"Say you don't want my company then," Wednesday said haughtily. 

Wednesday knew you wouldn't—couldn't, even. You never would. 

Just as you were her exception, she was yours. 

You pursed your lip at her, starting to close the door swiftly, and Wednesday stuck her foot partially into your room, preventing you from shutting the door in her face again.

"Wednesday!" You called her name, concerned you might've hurt her when the door hit her foot, but the macabre girl used the opportunity to press her palm flat against your door and pushed it wide open.

She took a step forward menacingly, forcing you to take a step back. She took another step, and you took another one back. When she was inside your room fully, she used the back of her heel to shut your door.

The resounding click of it made you swallow.

"Wednesday," you clenched your jaw, fighting against something you weren't even really sure why. But you were terrified—of her, you don't think, but rather what she was capable of doing to your heart.

"I have been patient," Wednesday's voice is quiet, but her tone is sharp, expressing every bit of her lost tolerance. "I have waited for you silently."

Wednesday kept walking towards you, backing you up until your back bumped into your desk. She looked positively irritated. "I have even refrained from saying a single unkind thing despite them running through my mind at the sight of you moping at whatever has been keeping you up at night."

"How did you know—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Wednesday's eyes flashed dangerously at your insinuation. You shook your head.

"Then you must take me for a fool with endless patience," Wednesday glared at you. "I don't take kindly to the kind of games you're playing."

"I'm not playing anything—"

Wednesday cut you off again. "Then explain concisely what has been keeping you up and why you've been keeping it to yourself."

Silence filled the room as you didn't speak, but Wednesday had already waited this long. She could wait a little more. 

Wednesday watched how you gripped the edge of your desk, your finger tapping underneath in rapid succession before you closed your arms over her chest. 

The stance was defensive, but you looked more reluctant than wary.

"I'm having nightmares about you."

The admittance stunned Wednesday, and she didn't know how to take it. Initially, it felt like a compliment because nightmares were so fascinating and exhilarating to experience, and Wednesday hoped to have nightmares every night she slept based on that logic. 

But you were not her. 

Nightmares, illogically, were typically not desirable.

"Wednesday, I—" You swallowed. "I have feelings for you. You're the best and worst part of my days because I actually feel clinically insane everytime I see you, spend time with you and then have to face the fact that you're not mine and I'm not yours."

Wednesday's jaw clenched, and it was noticeable. She wanted to open her mouth and demand how you could feel the exact same way she did, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue on. 

"And I have nightmares about losing you," you confessed. "I have nightmares about losing you to Tyler or another deranged supernatural being. I have nightmares about losing you to Xavier or Enid or somebody like Tyler, minus the whole mass genocide. I have nightmares about losing you in every single imaginable way, only to wake up and realize you're not mine, and you can't lose what you don't have."

"I can't tell if the nightmare is when I'm asleep or when I'm awake." You put your hands to your face, laughing hollowly. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, burning as they were so dry from lack of sleep. "I think I'm going crazy."

Wednesday wanted to tell you that going crazy was supposed to be wonderful. But she, herself, has been experiencing the whirlwind of elation and torment you put her through and believed that going crazy wasn't as wonderful as she thought. 

But Wednesday decided then and there that there was no way up from crazy. And while it's unfortunate that she's not the brand of crazy like Uncle Fester, she's been driven mad nonetheless. It's the only thing that could explain all of this and everything that's about to come. 

Wednesday grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from her face. No visions plague her, and all she knows is that this meant her decision wouldn't end in misfortune and it wouldn't drive her down a lonely path. 

"Enid's not expecting me back tonight," Wednesday told you as she dragged you over to your bed. Her succinct tone leaves no room for you to ask any questions. 

"Um, okay?" You said anyway, thrown off by her response and feeling exhaustion saw at your bones, dragging the invisible knife back and forth.

Wednesday guided you to get into bed, and you complied. Resignation settled over you as you rested your head on your pillow. It was cold again with you being away from it, but it brought no comfort. 

You lay facing the wall, about to pull the blanket up to your chin, when you heard something drop against the floor. You turned your head and saw that Wednesday had set her backpack down, and now she was zipping off her sweater, hanging it on the pole of your bed frame, leaving her in her black long-sleeve.

Wednesday took her shoes off before using every bit of her vulnerability to steadily and carefully climb into bed with you. It was dark, with only a little light from the moonlight shining just barely into the room, and you could make out the barest hint of her features and knew she was staring intently at you, trying to ascertain if this was a boundary both of you could bear to cross. 

Her touch was slow and hesitant, revealing this was something she's never done before, but the moment you were in her arms, you clicked into place like a puzzle piece. 

Wednesday was cool against your body, but she was warming from your touch and shared heat trapped under the blanket. She smelt like rain and dry leaves, and you felt like you were going insane. You buried your face into her neck. 

Wednesday wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, allowing the things she's been desiring for a while to come to fruition. She couldn't tell if this was making her saner or driving her closer to insanity.

It was deliriously pleasant.

"Who said you're not mine?" Wednesday muttered into the shell of your ear.

It's suddenly not enough, and Wednesday now knew the answer was that it was driving her closer to insanity. 

Wednesday pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes that were so tired just moments ago. The dark circles remained, but you were wide awake, speckles of oblivion in your eyes.

Despite how everything else changed as you became sleep deprived, your lips still remained full and soft. 

Wednesday moved to close the gap, sighing softly as her lips slanted against yours. 

How could she feel like jagged glass, splintered and sharp, while you felt so soft, practically melting around her serrated edges?

Wednesday only pulled back marginally, cupping your jaw and the back of your neck. "Who told you that you don't already have me? I want names."

You couldn't even think straight with how her breath felt on your lips. You pushed forward again, pressing your lips against Wednesday's insistently.

Was it possible for reality to be better than a dream? 

Your lips slotted over Wednesday's over and over and over. Wednesday tugged at your bottom lip, smoothing over it with her tongue before it dipped at the edge of your mouth where your tongue met hers. 

It was dizzying, something that frequently happened to Wednesday when it was too warm. She usually hated the sensation of it, but, of course, as many things were exceptions when it came to you, this was one of them too. 

"Your nightmares are inane."

You couldn't help but laugh against Wednesday's lip. 

"I think I am actually insane," you grinned, and you saw a ghost of something similar on Wednesday's lips. 

"Sleep," Wednesday ordered you, kissing you chastely initially but ending up biting your bottom lip tenderly. Her hands pull you closer, her lips resting on your forehead. "I'm here, so nothing will plague you."

The softness of Wednesday is unimaginable, and you're nearly skeptical.

"But—"

"No." Wednesday countered bluntly. "I'm telling you that I'm here and yours. You may come to regret it, knowing how...difficult I am. But you're stuck with me. Congratulations," Wednesday tilts her head slightly, brushing against yours, "or condolences."

But you could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, and it was dark, and you were so tired, but you were close enough to hear Wednesday's heartbeat. 

Your lips tingle from Wednesday's kisses. You felt your eyelids grow heavy along with your body, and the way Wednesday shifted told you she was satisfied.

Nighttime could be hellish, but Wednesday Addams saw you—she always would. And all she had to do was put her lips over your nightmares.

[brinaarcadia]

AUGUSTUS SINCLAIR

"You do business as long as I have, and you learn to pick a brand name from the writin' on the wall."

An entrepreneur who puts profit above all else - ethics, honesty, and even the lives of others. Sinclair likes to keep a low profile and will happily exploit anyone and everyone in order to make a buck. In Rapture's heyday, Sinclair founded a number of money-making institutions through a firm called Sinclair Solutions, including the low-rent housing in Pauper's Drop and home testing of experimental Plasmids on desperate addicts.

As Rapture started to fall down around him, he saw a business opportunity: to gather up all the amazing scientific advancements discovered by the great minds of the city, bring them back to the surface, and sell them off to the highest bidder.

He needs you to secure his escape from Rapture, so that he can return to the surface and complete his plan. Unlike Andrew Ryan, he doesn't believe that altruism is evil, but simply unprofitable. He's helping you to help himself.

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 4

I know I said I was going to wait on posting this one, but it's got the most backlogged chapters so I figured I can at least put out this one for you.

It's extra long, like amount 1000 words longer than my usual. But I didn't want to stop half way through a specific section.

An elf gets his ears, Robin freaks out a bit, and everyone gets a little called out about their pre-conceived notions, but especially Mike.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The day had arrived and Claudia had offered to help get them all there, as Eddie’s van was full and Robin still didn’t have her license. She was in driver’s ed right now, thankfully. Her parents didn’t want her going to college without knowing how.

So Dustin, Will, El, and Mike went with Claudia and Robin, Max, and Lucas went with Steve.

Dustin had wanted to go with Steve, but it didn’t make sense as his mom was the other driver. So he pouted all the way to pick up his friends, but by the time Claudia had picked up Mike Dustin was vibrating in the front seat.

Lucas was picked up last.

He still didn’t have his ears so he looked crestfallen when he answered the door. He was wearing the pirate outfit he had told Steve he had.

“He’s being a piss baby,” Erica muttered. “Something about ears.”

“Erica Jean!” Mrs. Sinclair hissed. “We do not talk about your brother that way.”

Erica crossed her arms and pouted.

“Actually, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve said with a smile. “I have a solution, but I’m going to need your help.”

Both Lucas and Erica perked up at that. Steve patted his pocket with a wink.

“Of course!” Mrs. Sinclair beamed. “I told you Steve and Eddie were going to come through for you, didn’t I?”

Lucas blushed. “Yes, Mom.”

“Where do we need to be, Steve?” she asked.

“The bathroom would be the best place.”

She nodded and led the way, Lucas in the middle and Steve bringing up the rear.

Steve sat Lucas on the toilet seat and pulled out the thin box Eddie had given him. He opened it up so Mrs. Sinclair could see it first.

“Ooh!” she cooed. “I know just what we need. I’ll be right back.”

Steve turned around so Lucas could see them.

Lucas gasped. “Holy shit! What are they made of?”

“Silicone.”

“Do we need anything to affix the ears, Steve?” Mrs. Sinclair asked from her bedroom. “I have makeup glue if we need.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve called back. “I have spirit gum.”

She peaked around the corner. “Oh that’s even better!” She had her makeup bag in her hands.

“Actually Lucas,” Steve said eyeing the makeup bag. “Go change into your costume. I don’t want to smear makeup on your costume or accidentally knock off one of the ears and have to start all over.”

Lucas leapt to his feet and dashed out of the room.

“It was really nice of you to do all this for him,” Mrs. Sinclair told Steve in the wake of her son’s cartoon speed cloud. “It’s really made him feel special. To stand out in a way that feels good for a change.”

Steve smiled back at her. “He’s a good kid. It was great that I got to do something nice for him.”

Lucas came back a few minutes later, a blanket covering his costume. When his mom and Steve raised an eyebrow at him he blushed.

“I was worried about the makeup getting on the costume,” he admitted shyly.

Steve patted his shoulder. “I would have put a towel over it. A mom approved towel. I don’t think she’s going to approve that blanket.”

“Absolutely not!” She took off the blanket and handed them a ratty old towel to drape over Lucas’s shoulders.

“Thanks Mrs. S.,” Steve murmured and got to work. He applied the ears and then swapped with Mrs. Sinclair.

She applied makeup to the silicone to blend them to Lucas’s ears.

“All done!” she said triumphantly.

Steve whipped off the towel and pulled Lucas to his feet. He closed the door so that they could use the full length mirror that was on the back. He put his hands over Lucas’s eyes and gently steered him toward the door.

“You ready?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Lucas croaked.

Steve uncovered his eyes.

Lucas stared in the mirror for a moment or two.

“Baby?” Mrs. Sinclair asked. “Do you like it?”

Tears streamed down his face as he nodded. “I’m an elf, Mom...”

She hugged him tightly. “Yes you are, sweetie. And the best looking elf at the fair, no doubt.”

He nodded and then wiped his tears.

“How did you do this?” he asked Steve.

Steve smiled. “Jeff makes them.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Mrs. Sinclair cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Jeff?”

“Mom!” Lucas hissed. “I like talk about him all the time! He’s the other black member of Hellfire!”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “You talk about so many of those boys, I get them mixed up sometimes. But I’m happy he was able to help my baby out.”

Lucas rushed out to show the girls who gasped and oohed over Lucas’s outfit.

“How much did you have to pay for those, Steve?” she asked gently. “They can’t have been cheap.”

Steve shook his head. “Jeff did them for free because he knew what it was like to be told no just because of the color of his skin. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

She nodded and the two of them wandered out into the front room.

“Steve!!” Erica screeched. “I didn’t know you could sew like this!” She waved at Lucas. “What the hell?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You could have come, and maybe would have gotten a cool outfit too. Too late now.”

Erica gasped, wide-eyed that Steve would call her out like this.

Mrs. Sinclair patted her daughter on the head. “You’re the one that wanted to sleep over at Tina’s this weekend, sweetie. Maybe next year.”

Erica couldn’t deny her mother’s logic and was forced to concede. “Fine, but just know I’m going to be grumpy about it.”

Mrs. Sinclair kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I know, dear.”

“Come on,” Max said, “we’ve admired Lucas long enough, I want to go to this fair, please.”

Lucas and Steve shared a glance. “Uh-oh. She said please, we better go before she gets really mad.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Mrs. Sinclair bit her lip as she struggled not to tell the girl off for her language.

Max and Lucas piled into the backseat while Robin and Steve slid upfront.

*

The closer they got to the where the Renaissance Fair was being held, the more nervous Robin got.

“Steve?” she questioned. “Why are we heading to the burned down mall?”

Steve grinned. “We aren’t.”

Robin bit her lip. “No,” she mumbled. “I rode my bike on this road every day to get to work. This is the way to Starcourt.”

Lucas and Max leaned forward to see the road ahead of them.

“I think she’s right,” Max concluded. “This is the way to Starcourt.”

They pulled into the makeshift parking lot of the fair. It was pretty much a dust field with people in medieval getups directing traffic.

Steve pulled in where he was directed and they all piled out of the Bimmer.

They stood looking out at the field where Starcourt once stood, but was now a bustling center of outdoor activity.

“What the hell?” Robin gasped. “Where is the mall?”

Steve grinned. “This piece of land was always used for passing carnivals and the Renaissance Fair every year. When the mayor sold it to the Russians to build the mall it put a stop to a lot of summer activities the town once enjoyed. So after the earthquake they bulldozed the area and put back the way it was.”

“What did they do with the underground bunker?” Max asked, vaguely interested.

Steve scratched his cheek. “Filled it with uh, cement.”

Lucas and Max shared an appreciative glance and even Robin nodded.

Steve was the first to spot the rest of their group. Dustin, Mike, Will and El were waiting in neat little cluster for them.

Lucas tugged on the hem of his gambeson and ducked his head. Max looked over at him and rolled her eyes.

“They aren’t going to care,” she hissed.

Steve glared at her. “There has been evidence to the contrary regarding this very thing, so zip it.” He mimed zipping his mouth closed.

Max stared at him wide-eyed in shock. Robin tugged on her sleeve.

“Come on,” she told the younger girl. “Let’s got meet up with the others.”

Max huffed but did as she was told without protest.

Steve put his hands on Lucas’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Look, I don’t know how you feel. I can never know how you feel, but let me tell you something that those buttheads will probably never understand because they aren’t like you and me.”

Lucas nodded.

“Being a ‘nerd’ as they call it is not the be all end all of existence,” Steve said. “You can have interests outside of theirs. I know they gave you shit for joining the basketball team, but you are a good player, maybe even a great one if you keep at it. You won’t have the same experiences that they will and that’s okay.”

“But what if we stop being friends?” Lucas asked, his voice breaking.

“It’s going to suck for awhile,” Steve confirmed. “It won’t be easy and it will hurt sometimes when you least expect it, but you’ll make new friends with your same interests as long as you continue to be you.”

Lucas took in a deep breath and let out slow. “You’re friends were assholes though.”

Steve laughed. “And Mike isn’t?”

A small sunny smile peeked out from under Lucas’s cloud of worry. “Yeah, all right.”

They started walking toward the group with Steve’s arm slung over Lucas’s shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” Steve told him as they got close. “And know I will kick his ass if he says anything.”

Lucas huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Steve.”

They reached the crowd of their friends and waited for their reaction.

“Holy shit!” Will said. “That is an epic costume!”

And then Lucas fully reached the group and ears could be seen.

“What are you supposed to be?” Mike asked with a sneer. “There aren’t any black characters with pointy ears.”

Dustin scoffed. “He could be a Vulcan. There was a black Vulcan in ‘Search for Spock’!”

“That movie was so bad, dude,” Mike huffed. “It doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts,” Dustin protested. “It’s considered canon, therefore it counts.”

“I’m not a Vulcan,” Lucas said proudly, sticking out his chest, “I’m an elf ranger.”

“Are you a Drow then?” Mike asked. “You do know Drows are evil right?”

Dustin and Will’s jaws drop in shock and outrage.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “His skin isn’t literally black!”

Steve leaned over to the girls. “Does anyone know what a draw or whatever is?”

Lucas turned to Steve. “It’s a race of elves that live in the underdark, deep below where even the dwarves dare to delve. They’re straight up evil and very matriarchal.”

“Well that’s sexist,” Robin said putting her hands on her hips.

Mike rolled his eyes turned back to Lucas. “Well you can’t be Silvain elf, because they’re pale skinned and beautiful.”

“I’m a wood elf,” Lucas said, “my skin matches the woods around me, so I can blend in easier.”

Mike crossed his arms. “Show me one other dark skinned elf that isn’t you and maybe I’ll allow it.”

Just then a large van pulled up to the entrance in a skid, blaring metal music.

The four men got out and everyone was looking at them in stunned silence.

Eddie was dressed as a minstrel, wine dark puffy sleeves and leggings with a black tunic and boots. Gareth was a magic user in long, flowing purple robes that stopped two inches from the ground and beautifully carved wizard’s rod with a deep purple crystal in its grasp. Brian was a fighter with a metal sword at his hip and dressed in actual leather armor. Then the Party saw Jeff. He was dressed all in black with tight leggings, a short tunic and a black silk shirt that was covered by a short cloak. He had two silver daggers tucked into the tops of his thigh high boots.

He dropped the hood on his cloak to reveal that yes, Mike, he too had elf ears.

Jeff spotted Lucas and threw out his arms. “My kinsman! I greet you!”

Lucas turned and bowed low and Steve was forced to turn away to hide the smile at Mike’s stunned expression.

“Lord Kelnic,” Lucas greeted. “I understand these were a gift from you?” He rubbed the tip of one of the ears.

Jeff ran up to him. “Dude! How did you get them to match so well? I’ve tried every kind of glue to make them look like actual ears.”

Lucas blushed. “My mom used her makeup kit to blend the two.”

Jeff turned to the rest of Corroded Coffin. “And why didn’t we think of that?”

Gareth and Brian just shrugged.

Eddie on the other hand looked sheepish. “Because I thought makeup was just for girls?”

Jeff rolled his eyes and turned back to Lucas. “I’ll borrow my sister’s makeup for tomorrow. Can’t have shoddy looking ears next to my ranger kinsman.”

Lucas laughed.

Brian nudged Gareth in the ribs. “What’s Mike’s problem?”

Corroded Coffin all turned as one to see that Mike was standing there between El and Will looking like a rug had been pulled out from under him.

El patted Mike on the shoulder. “My mom says that people who judge someone by anything other than the content of their character are either too young to know better, or are immature. Grow better.”

She turned and started for the line that would grant them entrance to the Fair.

Lucas looked over at Steve and the two of them tried not to laugh at the absolute gobsmacked expression on Mike’s face.

“I’m not being racist!” he huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m not!” He looked around at all his friends, but none of them looked even remotely like they agreed with him. “He’s black so he should be black characters!”

Brian reared his head back. “Dude, how is that not racist?”

Mike looked around again panicked. “It just isn’t!”

Jeff walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. A feat that was a little hard for most of his friends these days with how tall he’d gotten.

“There’s this thing, Mike,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “called casual racism. It’s where all your upbringing and prejudices come out in casual ways instead of saying things like nigger and that blacks should be separate from whites. It’s oh he can’t play that character, the character is white. He can’t be an elf, elves are white. That’s casual racism and you better check it before it ruins a damn good friendship.”

Jeff stared him down until Mike was nodding his agreement. He turned to Will and Dustin.

“I wasn’t here at the start of this conversation,” he said, “but you two need to be better at calling out Mike’s bullshit. Because a few years on, he should be better not worse.”

Dustin and Will gave confused glances at each other.

Jeff scoffed. “Lucas told me all about the lovely little Ghostbusters incident. He straight up told you he wasn’t going to be Winston, but Mike here assumed he wasn’t going to be anyway because he’s black. So the fact that here we are and he’s still being a racist asshole?”

“We do call him out,” Will said. “And I wasn’t here for almost a year, I don’t know what happened in that year, but yeah he got worse.”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know either, man. Don’t look at me.”

Steve stepped forward. “I think you do know, Dustin and I was really disappointed when I heard about it.”

Dustin looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“After all, what’s a little casual racism when Lucas ‘betrayed’ you by joining the basketball team?” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The older members of The Hellfire Club looked chastised. Because they had all given Lucas shit for that.

“You still have time to course correct,” Steve said. “But make no mistake, any kind of bullying, is still bullying. Whether it’s about the color of their skin, the games they play, or the type of school subject they like.”

He pointed at Robin. “Band and orchestra is still people getting together and playing instruments like a metal band.” Eddie winced hard and shoved a lock of his hair in front of his face.

“Playing a sport is no different than DnD, planning, keeping track of stats, and working together are hallmarks of both.” Dustin and Mike shared a grimace and even Gareth and Brian looked uncomfortable.

“Being a genius at math or science doesn’t make you better than someone who is a genius at history or literature.”

To which everyone but Robin and Max looked at their feet. Because they had all made that mistake with Steve before this all started.

“I think we will all need to unpack some pretty garbage baggage,” Steve concluded. “But!”

All the heads shot up.

“We are here for a good time,” Steve said holding up his hand, “and as long as Mike apologizes to Jeff and Lucas I think we can move past this and enjoy ourselves today. Agreed?”

Everyone murmured their agreement, punctuated with nods. Mike looked down at his feet and kicked at a pebble.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t trying to be racist. I’ll try to be better.”

Steve looked over at Jeff and Lucas and they both gave him a thumbs up.

“Great!” Steve said cheerfully. “Now let’s get this show on the road!”

“Dirt path maybe,” Robin grumbled. “It’s like an old western out here. I swear to god Steve if I see a tumbleweed I am out of here.”

Steve laughed as they all met El in line.

Now that the heavy stuff was out of the way, it was time for some good fun.

****

My favorite line was El's "...Grow better." Because there is nothing more stinging then your girlfriend telling you to stop being an ass.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

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[fuctacles]

Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door. 

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time. 

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself. 

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows. 

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[unma]

I'm not going to be able to write my typical long rambles for a bit (need to catch up on important work), but here's a short list of things I wanna talk about with the latest canto.

Spoilers, of course.

The entire Canto taking place after the ending of Don Quixote (the first Don, I will not call him the Actual Don because our Don is as much Don Quixote as he is) is not something I expected, but makes so much sense and made for a wonderful story. There are themes of identity, struggling to live under a broken system and GOD THE FAMILIAL TIES. THE FIGHT AGAINST THE TWO MIDBOSSES + THE PRIEST HAD SUCH MAGNIFICENT STORY BUILD UP. AND THE PRIEST'S ENTIRE MOVESET. UGGGH I WANNA TALK ABOTU IT

Hey. Outis. What did you mean by that. We all know what I'm talking about, right? This is the first time I know of that she's actually given even a smidge of info about herself somewhat directly. Somewhat. Everything else is just in how she knows things and acts. Here she is asking a very specific question and god, I need to know more about her now.

Good job Sinclair. And everyone else. But good job Sinclair.

Vergilius with Sanson's face/mask is cursed.

I continue to feel so so bad for the Bloodfiends. They did the best they could in a world that gave them only two horrible options. I couldn't help but compare La Manchaland to the Tokyo Ghoul:RE ending, because the hemobars reminded me of the artificial meat, except in TG:RE it worked and here, well. We saw how that went. I think it's a great idea to start with the after of their solution; this isn't a situation with a possible solution, they tried that and failed. Who knows if there is one that works? Does it matter now that they're all dead?

I'm going to be very weird about Camille once this is all said and done, but I do want to note that the pretty boy being turned into a flower and having a name very clearly gotten from Carmilla the flower (and maybe the book? Haven't read it yet so idk if he's taken from there) is very cheeky. I still wish I could've besting him up myself. This isn't me critiquing the writing, this is me being weird.

The QTE in the ending cutscene of the boss fight was cool and really added to the feeling of fighting against and overcoming a clearly superior foe.

I wanna hug Don Quixote the First. He's such a ray of sunshine and deserved better. Even if he was somewhat delusional, at least he genuinely cared for his family.

What happened to Hong Lu's sister? Did she just vanish? I didn't notice until later on, so I'll probably need to go back and check myself.

Bari is the Librarian of Death (edit: Nameless Bookhunter, thanks for the correction AE)? Idfk and idc for now. If Bari ends up showing up again or a moot of mine decides they wanna talk about it, maybe I'll look into it.

The familial themes here are most certainly also going to be related to Hong Lu's story, which once more is a reason I really should get to reading all the books for this game.

Ryoshu accepting death from the possibility of fighting Don Qui the second was really funny.

The abno fights here are really good, and I love how Limbus is making unbreakable coins the standard from now on. Makes it so you can't just blaze through fights taking no damage, and these battles genuinely feel difficult. That's good. Their designs and mechanics are also pretty easy to understand and match with their ego gifts pretty well. God I wish we had more Rupture ids that could stack as much count as the Lasso abno.

Sancho fight was cool as hell. The clashable 10 speed skill was so good and made it feel like a massive improvement on the Cassetti fight. So good. On use coin power did mess me up a little given it doesn't show up in the clash numbers, but that was on me for not reading tbh.

Fun fact: final boss can be Meatlantern soloed really easily. So easy in fact that that's how I cleared it. Doing it with a full team didn't end well for me. The solo's also really consistent, which is nice.

Mili song is really good. As usual. I need to go listen to it again. I need an in-game mix. I need it. The childishness of Sancho's side of the tune compared with the seriousness of first Don's side is lovely.

Also. Please, in the final clash where you use Don's base ego. I hope you looked at the name of the ego and the name of Don the First's attack. Please. It's such a good detail. And it's so much better when you remember that Sancho was always the one making weapons for Don. He calls Sancho's lances much more graceful than his. It's so lovely. You can tell these two genuinely love each other. It's so good.

Also the fact that basically every fixer we went in with got wiped out by weakened Bloodfiends really shows just how powerful these bloodfiends are. Camille had to resort to using ego gear to survive. Sheesh.

That'll be all for now. Expect a long ramble on any of these points when I'm more free, aka never.