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imagrindylow · 10 months

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Dare

Happy Weasley Wednesday!!

Garreth Weasley / gn!Reader. 5k words

Content Warnings: Fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, injury, sickness. Summary: On a dare, Garreth tests one of his experimental brews on himself and lands himself in the hospital. The fear you have around his condition makes you decide to finally confess your feelings for him. A/N: There is a lot of Leander in this, I literally couldn't help myself. It was fun looking at his friendship with Garreth more.

~~~

Garreth mucking about with his potions ingredients trying to come up with new brews, or even just experimenting to see what could possibly happen when things were combined, was not a new or uncommon sight. On this day, he found himself in his room of requirement, doing the latter. He leaned over a bubbling cauldron, the steam flushing his face as he added pinches of this and that, just to see what reaction he’d be met with.

His best friend, Leander, sat sprawled out in an armchair near by, absentmindedly flicking his wand at the various seemingly random portraits that hung on the walls, tipping the witches and wizards in their frames and laughing at their startled expressions.

A fizzle and a crackling sound arose from Garreth’s cauldron, pulling Leander’s attention back to his friend. “What are you doing?”

“Oh ya know, just trying things out.”

“Was that supposed to happen?”

“Dunno. Just kinda throwing things in. Whats the worst that could happen?”

Leander shook his head. He was more than used to Garreth’s antics, but scoffed none the less at his friends disregard for inviting on whatever chaos could come.

Garreth wandered around his potting stations, picking stems and leaves from his various plants and tossing them into his cauldron along with the hodgepodge of things he had already added that he collected from the forest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting… but the pleasant aroma that arose as he stirred the mixture, was not it.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What?” Leander asked, watching with a look of intrigue on his face.

“It smells really good… For just an experiment, I’m really delighted it went well.”

“Yeah?” Leander asked, raising his brows, with a devious grin growing across his face. “Dare you to drink some.”

“Are you mad? Five minutes ago you were scoffing at me and now you want me to drink it?” Garreth sounded only mildly perturbed, and was mostly just teasing his friend. He couldn’t lie to himself, the temptation to taste it had already crossed his mind.

“You said it smells good. Doesn’t that mean it’s fine?”

Garreth looked around his workstation with the remnants of the ingredients he had added strewn about the tabletop. Nothing in the cauldron was inherently dangerous individually… Well, not very dangerous anyway.

“Ah, fuck it. I’ll do it.” He resolved. He smirked at Leander who was crossing the floor to stand by and watch more closely, and to get a whiff of the concoction himself.

“It does smell delicious…” Leander tilted his head, arching a brow and giving an approving grin.

He watched with his hands on his hips as Garreth dipped his ladle deep into the cauldron, gave it a final stir and lifted the utensil to his lips. He blew across the top to cool the mixture, the decadent rich scent right under his nose enveloped him, making him salivate.

“Here goes nothing.” Garreth said, pressing the ladle to his lips. His eyes squinted at the steam still floating off of the surface of the liquid. He tilted the ladle forwards, letting the sweet smelling liquid pour into his mouth, and he swallowed it.

Leander watched with bated breath for any reaction… And then Garreth’s eyes rolled back in his head. He took a staggered step backwards, dropping the ladle on the floor, before collapsing.

Leander sharply exhaled all of the breath from his lungs at the sight of this show. “Okay, so maybe it didn’t taste as good as it smelled. But that was a little dramatic, even for you.” He jested at his friend.

When another moment passed, and then another, and Garreth still hadn’t sat back up and laughed and yelled ‘gotcha!’ Leander started to panic.

He dropped to his knees beside his friend and shook his shoulders roughly. “Garreth.. Garreth! Oh my god what did I have you do? Fuck fuck fuck… GARRETH. GET UP.”

There was no response. He had to get him to the hospital wing now. Leander searched the shelves nearest the fireplace… Where the fuck is the floo powder? He didn’t want to spare the time to search too long, the shelves were kind of a mess... Leander cast levioso on Garreth’s unconscious body, hoping it would aide in bringing him to the hospital wing. He couldn’t even make it through the doorway without knocking Garreth’s head into it. Leander winced, lowered the other boy back to the floor, and scooped him up and hoisted him over his shoulder, opting to carry him instead, and made his way to the hospital wing as quickly as he could.

The trip seemed to take ages. Garreth was difficult to carry and the number of staircases was just outrageous. Leander’s steps became staggered by the time he had finally reached the faculty tower and once he made it to the hospital wing, he was on the verge of collapsing himself. Nurse Blainey rushed to them as soon as she caught sight of them. “Over her, put him over here.” she instructed him. “What happened Prewett?” She raised her brows and looked at him expectantly.

“I-I-I dared him to drink it, it was my fault. Is he going to be okay?” “Drink what, exactly, come on, out with it!” “Umm, I don’t know actually… he was just experimenting, throwing things into the cauldron… He said it smelled good, so I dared him to drink it…”

Nurse Blainey got to work while Leander tried to explain. She was muttering something about ‘blasted amateur potion makers’ and their ‘inability to brew up some common sense.’

The nurse’s first idea was to get him to vomit the potion back out. Leander stood back while the nurse tipped Garreth onto his side and unceremoniously prodded the back of his throat with her wand to trigger his gag reflex. This didn’t seem to work, he only drooled a bit. Her next attempt was pouring wiggenweld into Garreth’s mouth, down his throat. The liquid went down, but it didn’t seem to have an effect.

“Is he… is he going to be alright?” Leander asked. His voice was shaky and quiet, a mixture of anxiety, guilt and shame.

“How long has he been unconscious?” She asked, sounding worried, “This may be a job for St. Mungos.”

Leander looked horror stricken. His face lost all of its color as his eyes laid on his best friend laying still in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat before speaking, caught off guard by the gravity of her words. “Ugh, I dunno, must be going on 10 minutes…” He guessed, he didn’t know how long it had taken him to carry Garreth all the way here. “St. Mungos… that means this is really serious…”

“He’s poisoned himself.” She said point blank. “Go back now and retrieve a vial of whatever it is that he drank.”

Leander nodded. “Oh.. of course, I will. And then you’ll be able to reverse it?” He sounded hopeful.

“There are antidotes, but I don’t have every possible remedy on hand Prewett. Go get me the sample! Now! Off with you!” She ordered him.

He turned and hurried out of the hospital wing, sprinting back towards the room of requirement desperately hoping the door would appear for him. It had to, right? This was necessary. He was out of breath by the time he reached the hall where the door should be. The only thought in his mind was needing to help Garreth, fixing the result of his stupid fucking dare. The door appeared.

With shaky hands Leander pulled an empty vial from Garreth’s shelf and bottled a sample of the brew, corking it tightly, and began sprinting back to the hospital wing with it clutched firmly in his hand.

He took the stairs two at a time and made it back in seemingly no time. He was gasping his breaths as he handed the vial to Nurse Blainey. “Here… this is it.”

She nodded and took the bottle, uncorking it and smelling it. Her eyes narrowed. She couldn’t pinpoint what all was in it. “Very well. Back to class with you, now. I will do what I can, and if it comes to it, I’ll transfer him. Check back later.”

Leander didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to leave his friend alone especially when it was his fault he was even in this mess. But he didn’t have it in him to argue. The overwhelming guilt he felt had chiseled away at his typically combative nature. He took a few backwards steps, eyes locked on Garreth, before turning and heading out of the hospital wing with his head sunk low and tears pooling in his eyes.

~~~

You noticed right away that Garreth was missing from dinner when you arrived in the great hall. You assumed that maybe he got lost in time while working on an assignment and you expected he’d appear at any moment. You didn’t exactly have plans with him this evening, but dinner wouldn’t be the same without the two of you shooting little glances at each other from across the room, trying to make the other laugh. It was just one of the many little games you two always played.

You filled your plate and ate your meal whilst chatting with friends absentmindedly, drawing your gaze to the doors of the great hall and scanning and re-scanning the Gryffindor table every few minutes, just waiting for Garreth to appear. But he never did.

After dinner you caught sight of Leander leaving the Gryffindor table, and you hurry to catch up with him, knowing he was close with Garreth as well and would likely know what was up. You grabbed his shoulder from behind and he turned to face you.

For a moment you just look up at him. You saw it in his eyes, something was wrong. “What happened, where is Garreth?”

He was more than a little taken aback by your sudden appearance and he furrowed his brow at you for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck before he began to speak. “Um… He uh… Look, please don’t be mad at me, okay. I already feel bad enough…” You took a sharp breath in before exhaling slowly, trying to keep your composure. “Out with it Leander, what happened?” He couldn’t make eye contact with you as he spoke. “He was brewing a potion, after lunch, like, an experimental one. And... I… I dared him to drink it... and he just fell over. I took him to the Hospital Wing right away.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two of you as you stared up at him.

“Are you actually serious?” You shook your head and narrowed your eyes at him, gesturing with frustration as you questioned him rhetorically, “Why would you dare him to do something so stupid… ugh!! And why would he listen to you?”

You just couldn’t believe how either of them could be so senseless, so careless. Sure Garreth was a bit mischievous, but this was just something else. And Leander… You weren’t close with him but you had assumed, incorrectly apparently, that he had enough sense than to dare his friend to do something so downright idiotic.

You set your anger aside for the moment and became overwhelmed with worry over Garreth, you did everything you could to keep your mind from drifting to worse case scenarios. Leander snapping back at you pulled your head away from those dark thoughts.

“Look I already feel guilty enough and I already got lectured by Nurse Blainey.” He scolded you. “Now are you going to come see him with me or not, because that’s where I’m headed now.”

You scoffed. “Yes, I’m coming with you.”

The two of you made your way from the Great Hall up through the Faculty Tower and into the Hospital Wing. Although, when you arrived, it appeared all of the hospital beds were empty. You gave Leander a questioning look and his heart sank as though he knew something you didn’t.

Nurse Blainey saw you both approaching and walked towards you both to meet you. “I had to transfer him,” she said, looking at Leander, before she glanced at you.

“Transferred?” You asked, the look of concern on your face as you looked at the nurse started growing exponentially.

“To St. Mungos,” Nurse Blainey spoke. “I thought it would be the best option.” “Well, can… can we go visit him there?” Your voice was faltering, as you began getting choked up with your worry.

Nurse Blainey sighed, shifting her gaze between you and Leander. It was already getting late, you knew it was pushing it to even ask, but you were desperate to see Garreth, to see if he was alright. “Fine. Take the Floo Network. I’ll write you both slips, should you arrive back to the castle past curfew.”

You and Leander both began thanking her immediately. She walked over to her desk and started writing up notes for you both excusing you from curfew for the evening, and from a small container in her desk drawer, she gave each of you a small handful of floo powder.

They stuffed the excuse notes into the pockets of their robes and made their way to the fireplace. Leander went first, dropping the powder into the flames, stepping inside, and speaking St. Mungos Hospital, then disappearing. You followed right after.

Just a moment later the two of you were standing in the bustling and crowded lobby of St. Mungos Hospital. You didn’t speak a word to each other, just headed to the reception desk, where an older witch looked between the two of you. “Here to visit someone?”

You nodded. “Garreth Weasley.” You answered her. You watched as she scrolled through a long parchment with many names on it. “Weasley…” She searched the list. “Third floor, potion and plant poisoning ward.” She stated, then began giving directions to the closest staircase. You and Leander followed her instructions, heading down a long hallway, around a corner and up three flights of stairs. Once on the correct floor, the two of you headed to yet another reception desk, specific to that department, spoke with another employee, were instructed to take seats in the waiting area, and told that you’d be informed when you’d be able to visit.

The two of you shared a silent, concerned look. Neither of you had really anticipated this news… It had already been a few hours between the actual incident and your arrivals to the hospital. Why couldn’t you just go right back to see him now? Your mind was racing as you took a seat with Leander in the waiting area.

~~~

The wait was long, and mostly silent. Your thoughts were shifting between a few different things… anger at the idiot of a boy sitting next to you for causing this mess, and worry over the one you were here to see. Not to mention your feelings surrounding him. You knew you had a crush on Garreth before and always had, but now, overwhelmed with uncertainty over his condition, you really felt like this was more than just a crush. A lot more. What if this accident would keep him in here, in the hospital and away from you for awhile? That thought alone was unbearable, it made your stomach knot up just to think about.

You guided your thoughts to happy times you and Garreth had spent together to keep from dwelling on the terrible scenarios that kept trying to work their way into your mind. You thought of the first time he took you into Hogsmeade, just the two of you, back in fifth year shortly after you’d first met in Potions class. Gods that was so long ago. If this whole ordeal had shown you anything, it was that you needed to let Garreth know how you felt for him, finally.

As time passed slowly, you began to fidget and become more uncomfortable with the wait. It had been at least an hour since you took your seat in the waiting room, and you hadn’t gotten a single update since arriving. What was taking so long? Was something wrong?

You were slouched back in your chair, tapping your fingers on the arm rest and sighing with exasperation, apparently too frequently, because Leander eventually broke the silence, telling you firmly, “Cut it out already, will you?”

“Will you cut it out?” You snapped back at him, gesturing to his mere existence.

He looked puzzled. “I’m not even doing anything.”

“Your antics, your idiotic dares. Conjure up a brain, will you?” You huffed and turned in your seat facing away from him slightly.

He scoffed. “Yep, thanks, I totally needed that. So helpful.”

After several more long and excruciating minutes of silence, one of the healers walked out into the waiting area, and approached you and Leander. “You two are waiting to see Mr. Weasley, correct?”

You both stood up, nodding. “How is he? Can we see him?” You asked eagerly, anticipation rising for some hopefully good news.

“We’ve found an effective antidote and he will make a full recovery, and will be back at school with you first thing in the morning. But at the moment he is quite weak, and tired. He’d been sleeping, but is awake now. You can see him, one at a time. His room is down the hall and to the left, when you’re ready. Oh and do be considerate, it’s a shared room.” The healer nodded and headed away.

Immediately relief washed over your face and you turned to Leander, completely dropping the attitude that you had with him previously, and asked nervously, “Can I see him first?”

Leander narrowed his eyes and scoffed at you. “I’m his best friend, so I should go first. And besides, I need to apologize for all of this.”

You started speaking quickly, before your mind had time to process your words, “Well, I’m in lo-” You looked away and cleared your throat, trying to catch yourself before you said something completely stupid and embarrassing, but it was probably too late for that. “Um… Never mind.”

“Oh?” Leander asked with a smirk as a wide grin spread across his smug face. You didn’t have to finish your sentence. He knew what you were going to say. “Well if that’s so, I suppose you can see him first.”

You smiled at him and nodded, trying not to blush but really who can control that? “Thanks, Leander.” You told him, and headed down the hall in the direction the healer had motioned too.

The hospital room was a large one, with many beds and a couple of other patients, not dissimilar to the hospital wing back at the castle. You spotted Garreth right away and crossed the room to him quickly. He turned his head towards you when he heard the door open and gave you a rather surprised looking expression that grew quickly into one of happiness, despite the very clear appearance of exhaustion that was also present. He looked weak, was more pale than he typically was, and there was a bucket near his bed, indicating that at some point during his stay, he must have been getting quite sick.

You took a seat in the chair beside his bed. He looked at you with a lot of fondness as he spoke to you, quietly. “When they said I’d have a visitor, I did not expect you.”

You conversed in hushed tones, not wanting to bother anyone else in the room. “Well, Leander is here too. But they’re only letting us visit one at a time.” You sighed, feeling relieved to finally see that he’d be alright.

“Just couldn’t wait to see me back at school, eh?” He grinned, he was really quite glad you were here. “Well, it’s a nice surprise.”

His words almost always make you blush and this was no exception, but at the moment you still had a hard time wrapping your mind around his decision to try that damn potion in the first place… And now that you knew he’d be alright, it seemed like a decent time to bug him about it.

“Why’d you go and drink that potion? Why would you let Leander dare you into something so foolish?” Your words were quiet but stern, you narrowed your eyes at him, and watched his expression soften a bit as he took in your sentiment. He could see that you had been scared over him.

He gave you a warm smile, and spoke with a hint of teasing in his voice. He seemed flattered that you seemed to care so much. “It was pretty stupid wasn’t it?” He chuckled. “I have no good excuse, I just make bad decisions sometimes. I’m sorry if I worried you, though.”

You exhaled and sighed. “You did worry me! You really did.”

“Yeah. Well, It won’t happen again, I can promise you that much. Won’t be testing anything experimental on myself again. Nothing that experimental, anyway.” He still had a hint of humor in his voice that was irritating to you given the situation, as though he wasn’t taking this all as seriously as he should have been.

You didn’t reply, you were frustrated and emotional. You could feel tears coming on and you did not want him to see that. You got up and although you were frustrated, you spoke to him as calmly as you could, and excused yourself. “Leander is waiting to see you. I’ll send him in and I’ll be back once he’s finished… He’s got a lot to say, I think.”

Garreth nodded and you turned and headed out of the room and back towards the waiting area. Leander stood as you came towards him.

“Finished already?” He asked sounding more than a little shocked. He noticed your expression. “Everything alright?”

“It’s fine. He’s typical Garreth.” You said with a bit of annoyance. “You go and see him, I’ll wait and go back in once you’ve gotten a turn.”

Leander nodded and patted your shoulder as he walked past you and towards Garreth’s room. You sat back down and attempted to calm yourself. You couldn’t let yourself stay frustrated, you couldn’t, not if you wanted to tell him how you felt.

~~~

“Hey mate.” Leander greeted Garreth as he took the seat at his bedside. He began speaking right away, not even giving Garreth the chance to greet him back. He leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees, guilt plastering his face. “Look, I’m… I’m really sorry about all of this. Never expected this to be the outcome of that dare. I hope you can forgive me, I’ve been so worried.”

“Calm yourself Lee, I’m fine. And – let’s be honest – I’d have probably drank it even if you hadn’t dared me to.”

“Crazy bastard.” Leander chuckled, “You had better tell them that because they’re pretty pissed at me, you know?” He said and gestured towards the direction of the door. “They uh… Yeah I think you really scared them, I think they care about you a lot.”

Garreth smiled. “Yeah? I care about them too.”

“Well, I shan’t keep you from them, then. I’ll see you back at school in the morning, yeah? We’re alright, mate?”

Garreth nodded. “Of course we are. Definitely.”

“Thanks.” Leander said with a relived expression. He waved and turned back, heading out into the waiting area once again.

You were surprised to see Leander back so soon. He sat beside you. “He forgave me. I’m going to head back to Hogwarts, unless you want me to wait and accompany you back once you’ve finished speaking with him again?”

“You go on. I’ll be alright and don’t need you to wait around. Thanks, though.”

The two of you parted ways, and you headed back to Garreth’s room yet again. When you arrived at his bedside, you pulled the curtains surrounding his bed area closed, before pulling up the chair and sitting down again.

“Hey, you.” He greeted, as you sat, looking around at the closed curtain. It seemed he approved of the added privacy. “Look, I really am sorry to have scared you.” His mood was much softer this time. You immediately questioned in your mind if Leander had said something to him about your little accidental confession. “And, it really won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not… I really was worried. I couldn’t keep my mind from replying these awful worst case scenarios. I’d be… pretty lost without you.”

“Is that right?” He grinned and his cheeks blushed a faint pink. “Well, I have no intentions of going anywhere. So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst fate, I suppose.” You teased him with a bit of a laugh.

“No, it wouldn’t, would it?” He sighed and smiled at you.

You were quite pleased with the little back and forth. It really showed more than anything that he really would be okay after all. He was his usual self, fun and playful. You reached for Garreth’s hand and took it, squeezing it and looked in his eyes. “I want to be honest with you about something.”

“Go on.” He squeezed your fingers in return, a grin spreading across his face as he waited for you to speak.

You ran your thumb over his knuckles. “I care about you a lot.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit up, obviously pleased to hear you say it. The way he looked at you just made your breath catch.

“Yes.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual.” He was very matter of fact and spoke with a smile.

You didn’t say anything else for a moment. You weren’t sure if you really got your point across. You knew ‘care’ wasn’t strong enough of a word, but you were happy that he returned that sentiment. You were a bit lost in thought when he shifted over in his hospital bed and patted the edge for you to sit beside him. You raised your brows at him and he nodded, then you moved to sit beside him on the bed. He rested a hand on your leg, running his thumb back and forth across the fabric of your uniform. You could feel your face heating up with every gentle passing stroke of his thumb. You opened your mouth to speak and ended up confessing, “I more than care, actually.”

His face lit up. “I thought that might be the case, and the feeling is still mutual.” He moved his hands up around your waist and at that point you were ready to just give in to your feelings. You were dying to kiss him, and you were confident enough now that he wanted it too. You leaned forward towards him, gently cupping his face in your hands, you brought your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss.

This was the only true way for you to convey how you really felt. You let the passion behind all of your emotions come out in the kiss, and he eagerly reciprocated. His hands pulled you closer at your waist and ran up your back. You could feel him smile against your lips and he let out a quiet pleasured hum, like he was savoring every second. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding his gently and your fingers twirling in his hair.

When your kiss broke after several long moments, you both had wide grins across your face, looking at each other warmly, still holding each other close. You pressed another quick kiss to his cheek.

“And here I thought you were angry with me.” Garreth whispered, a glint in his eyes as he looked over you, fully soaking in the moment between you.

“I was angry earlier, but… I have a forgiving nature. Lucky for you.” You teased him, whispering back, your hand resting on his chest with his fingers laced through yours.

“That’s right, lucky for me, indeed.” He took a deep breath, speaking more seriously now. “I am very lucky that nothing worse happened. But I’m also glad my antics earlier brought you to me, like this.”

“It’s funny how things play out, isn’t it? I was scared to lose you, and couldn’t go another day without telling you how I felt.” You admitted, looking at him fondly.

“Well, I’m glad you did. Finally.” He laughed, though still trying to keep his voice down as not to bother the other patients.

“Finally?” You chuckled. “You could have confessed to me, you know, at any point.” You chided, holding back a laugh.

“That’s right, I could have. But I was a bit nervous.” He admitted, squeezing your hands.

“Too nervous to talk about feelings, but not too nervous to drink a random experiment?” You jested, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He put his hands up in mock indignation, and spoke with a smile on his face. “That’s me. I don’t make any sense, and I’m a bit reckless, but you know it’s all part of my charm.”

From somewhere on the other side of the curtain surrounding his area of the hospital room, a harsh sounding voice shushed loudly.

You and Garreth shared a look, eyes wide. He covered his mouth, realizing your conversation had been growing steadily louder.

“You aren’t wrong.” You whispered. “But, it’s getting late, and I really ought to get back to Hogwarts. I should be letting you rest, anyway.”

He gave you his best pouty face, but nodded, you were right after all. “You really are stuck with me, once I’m back to school in the morning.”

“Good.” You kissed his lips once more, quickly and with a bit of a giggle. You smiled and waved goodbye to him as you drew back the curtain and headed back to Hogwarts.

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #leander prewett #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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munsons-maiden · 2 years

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𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

Thank you so much for all the support on this series so far and your patience; all the lovely comments and reblogs and asks are making my days and I’m so happy about every single one of them🖤 I hope you enjoy this chapter! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world that might be more persistent than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending (I PROMISE!!!), fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~1 hour

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of attempted assault, canon-typical gore & violence, blood

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

[Wednesday, March 27th, 1986.

MIDNIGHT.]

Life’s not a game of D&D.

That’s what Wayne Munson used to tell Eddie. He’d said it when the cops had escorted a distraught sixteen-years-old Eddie back home because they’d caught him drinking a beer. He’d said it again when he’d picked up Eddie at the police station two years later because Andy Warren had snitched on Eddie’s drug dealing, and he’d said it when, a few weeks later, a letter from school had informed him that Eddie wouldn’t graduate. And the year after that, when a similar letter had found its way to the Munson trailer.

Wayne had never been one to get angry at Eddie, though.

He’d shouted at him once, when Eddie had still been a kid and he’d accidentally smashed the pane of the kitchen window with a baseball bat – but the way Eddie had flinched and shied away in response had stuck with Wayne Munson, and he’d never again raised his voice at his nephew.

It was the disappointment which stung, probably more than the words warning him not to veer off the right path even though Wayne knew, with all his heart, that Eddie would never wind up like the older Munson brother had.

It were those words, though, that came to Eddie’s mind now.

They were true.

While, as in life, D&D was an intricate pattern of choices following each other, tipping into each other like domino stones, the throw of the dice guided by the hands of luck determining the outcome as much as the player’s choice…some choices were a gamble.

You rolled the dice and hoped for the best, hoped luck would make you stronger than the monsters.

Sometimes you were lucky and landed a Crit Hit, a natural twenty defeating evil.

Sometimes, you weren’t, and the dice sealed your fate.

But Wayne had been right when it came to one crucial point.

When you died at the gaming table, there would be other games, other campaigns.

In life, there was only one campaign.

And no way to get back in once the dice had kicked you out.

[FIFTY MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

Don’t try to be cute, okay? Don’t try to be heroes.

Steve’s words still rang in your mind as you watched the three figures walking away from the Forest Hills trailer park, past the Welcome sign at the side of the road that didn’t look welcoming at all covered by tar-black creepers, your friends’ backpacks stacked with makeshift-weapons.

Nancy’s curly head, Steve’s broad shoulders, and Robin, fiddling nervously with the straps of her backpack.

The plan was a simple one.

You’d split into three teams.

Team Creel House in the Rightside Up with Max as Vecna’s bait, accompanied by Erica and Lucas.

Team Demobats with Eddie, Dustin and you, waiting for the signal to lure the swarm of bats away from Vecna’s lair in the Upside Down version of Creel House and towards Eddie’s trailer to clear the path for team number three – Team Crit Hit, with Nancy, Robin and Steve, armed to the teeth and ready to land the killing blow as soon as the bats were gone and Vecna was defenseless in the trance of his making.

A perfect row of dominos, waiting for the first one to be tipped.

Something felt…weird. Off.

As if you all should have been greeted by an army of monsters upon entering the Upside Down again.

But the Upside Down was calm and still, like the surface of a lake in a tranquil night.

In the distance, your friends had reached the tree line of the woods separating the trailer park from the rest of Hawkins, leading right up to the little hill and Creel House like the crown on top of it.

And with every step they took, increasing the distance, every second that passed…that sense of doom descended upon you, nestled in your guts.

As if something horrible was going to happen.

In your mind, the branches of the naked trees in the woods were turning into skeletal hands, reaching out for your friends.

In a matter of minutes, everything in this place would try to kill them. Kill all of you.

But above all else…it would try to kill Eddie.

Eddie, your songbird, who would soon be on the roof of that trailer to draw in hundreds, thousands of the very bats which had devoured him in your nightmares sweat-soaked night after sweat-soaked night for the past four months.

Nightmares…or something else. Something way more horrible than a nightmare.

Because nightmares, no matter how cruel, ended at some point. You woke up, and the horror was over.

But what if they had never been nightmares or threats at all, but…visons? Glimpses not of what Vecna wanted to do to Eddie or what you feared most, but at the future itself?

Voices floated over to where you standing at the side of the trailer, and your fist tightened around the can of gasoline you’d been holding, its contents emptied on the dead grass in a ring around the Munson trailer, ready to be set aflame once the bats had arrived to keep them trapped and diverted.

“…looks so cool.”

“As if she was destined for another dimension.”

Eddie’s voice pierced the gloom and fear in your heart as you turned to where Dustin and Eddie were sitting on the steps leading up to the Munson trailer.

Eddie was holding his Warlock guitar in his lap, the deep, dark red of the instrument a splotch of color amidst the obscure half-dark of the Upside Down.

“You think you can teach me when we’re out of here? To play guitar?” You could practically feel Dustin vibrate with his excitement, and Eddie’s surprised smile in reply as he scanned Dustin’s face.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I still got my first guitar. It was an acoustic one. It’ll do for a start.”

“Wait, you’re not gonna teach me with that one?”, Dustin inquired with a nod at the Warlock guitar.

There was a beat of silence as Eddie gave Dustin a playfully shocked once-over. “Hell, no. You gotta start slow. Like when you learn to ride a bike. You’re gonna start with the old acoustic guitar. It’s your metaphorical training wheels. Gotta earn this beautiful sweetheart here.”

You smiled as Eddie gently patted the polished surface of the instrument in his lap, before his gaze flitted to Dustin, who was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. It was obvious, even from the distance, how anxious the boy was.

“You know,” Eddie began slowly, a small smile curving his lips, “I could show a few chords, though.”

“Right now?” Dustin’s head snapped up.

“No time like the present,” Eddie shrugged, “They didn’t even RT to tell us they’re in position yet so, uh, guess we gotta pass the time some way.”

Hadn’t you known Eddie so well, you might have fallen for his lighthearted, decidedly bored tone.

But you knew him better than you knew the pages of your favorite book, better than your own heart.

And you could tell he was scared – trying hard to play it cool for Dustin’s sake, probably fighting the overpowering urge to pace around like a trapped beast.

You could see the tremor shaking Eddie’s hand when he patted the spot on the concrete step below, gesturing for Dustin to sit between his legs so he could show the boy how to hold the guitar, and your heart was overflowing with affection at the gesture.

Eddie had always taken care of others. Had given them a safe place in Hellfire when they’d been lost in the shark tank that was Hawkins High, a place where they wouldn’t be judged or scorned upon.

You didn’t know much about Eddie’s past, but you knew enough to fill in some blanks. To know that, when Eddie could have become cold and uncaring and mean just like the world treated him…he had chosen kindness. He had chosen to remain gentle instead of letting the vile words and the bullying he’d had to endure harden his heart, and he’d chosen to look after others when it would have been so much easier to just take care of himself.

You wished you could tell Eddie, who kept insisting he wasn’t a hero and would never be, how much of a hero he already was, for being himself in a world that tried to change him – and for giving others a place and the courage to be themselves as well. Hell, he’d done the very same thing for you, without you even noticing it, you realized now.

It was so easy, to let your guards down around Eddie, to be yourself. As easy as breathing. As easy as loving him.

You stayed in your spot around the trailer’s corner, not wanting to interrupt the moment between the two, and your heart swelled even more, like the sea come high tide, at the happy little smile on Dustin’s face as he sat on the step between Eddie’s legs.

Eddie would have been the most amazing big brother.

“Whoa, careful, man,” Eddie cautioned as Dustin’s arms shot up to make room for the guitar, and with the same gentleness as if it were a wounded little bird, Eddie slowly placed the guitar in Dustin’s lap.

“’Kay, you put it on your thigh, and then your left hand goes here –“ he explained as he took Dustin’s hand to place it on the guitar neck, “And the other goes here. There.”

“And now?”

There was a distorted clang of the guitar’s strings being pulled and a strangled sound ripping from Eddie that sounded as if he’d stepped on Lego while walking barefoot, and you pressed your hand in front of your mouth to catch the giggle threatening to spill and give you away as Eddie exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, Henderson, careful.”

“Sorry! Sorry. What now?”

“We start with a few simple chords. Gimme a sec.”

“Old Macdonald Had A Farm?”, Dustin proposed, giving Eddie a look over his shoulder, and even from your spot half-hidden behind the corner, you could sense the offended glance Eddie was giving Dustin.

“If you’re ever gonna propose to play Old Macdonald Had A Farm on my sweetheart,” Eddie retorted, “You gotta e-i-e-i-o yourself to another D&D club ‘cause you’ll be banished from Hellfire’s game table for the rest of your life. Goddamnit.”

Dustin giggled, before Eddie reached out to place his hands over Dustin’s still hovering over the guitar’s strings, guiding the boy’s fingers apart before placing them over the strings on the guitar neck.

“We’re gonna start with the first riff of You’ve Got Another Thing Comin, that’s an easy one. ’Kay, like that – that’s an F – and then with your right hand, you do this –“, he steered Dustin’s other hand over the strings, the first note floating into the air, “And then you switch the left one here, to B –“

A second note, and then a third one, joined the white spores floating through the air, the guitar’s soft sounds obscured and dulled by the weird atmosphere of the place, and for a few moments, you listened to Eddie’s voice, giving instructions and explaining the notes, accompanied by the soft tinkling sounds of the guitar, slowly, the same seven notes repeating before Eddie announced, “Yeah, that’s good. There, try on your own.”

“Now?”

“’course. Who’s gonna judge you, the monsters?”, Eddie snickered, but it didn’t sound mocking at all.

There was a pause before the first note warbled into the air, then the next, slow and stumbling but definitely a melody, and when the final note of the little riff floated into the air, Dustin threw Eddie a questioning, proud little grin over his shoulder.

“Dude,” Eddie grinned, giving Dustin’s head a gentle shove, “That was good!”

“I think I could learn it.”

“Sure. We’re gonna make a guitarist out of you in no time.”

“Suzie’s going to love it,” Dustin grinned, before the smile slipped a little. “Steve says girls love guys who can play instruments.”

Eddie gave Dustin a dubious glance as he took the guitar back into his own hands, fingers working to tune the instrument a final time for the big moment as his eyes narrowed.

“Are you tryna learn to play the guitar to impress a girl or because you want to learn it?”

Dustin hesitated. “Both? I mean…it doesn’t hurt, right?”

You waited for Eddie to muster one of his usual witty retorts, anything…but he didn’t.

There was a beat of silence. When Eddie spoke up again, his voice had lost its playfulness, his tone gentle but stern. “You shouldn’t do things to impress others. Ever.”

“It’s just a tiny little thing,” Dustin protested, but Eddie’s hand gently game to rest on the boy’s shoulder, the silver rings glinting in the half-light, and Dustin fell silent again.

“It’s not. It’s not just a tiny little thing, you hear me? The way you dress, the things you like, the way you’re passionate about the things you enjoy, those aren’t little things. The sum of those things makes you you. And you should be proud of them, of who you are. If you actually wanna learn to play the guitar, because you think it will be fun, I’m gonna teach you. Right away. Tomorrow, if you’re up for it,” Eddie chuckled. “But I need you to promise me something, ‘kay?”

With Eddie’s head turned to face Dustin, you could only see the back of his head, his mane of dark curls spilling from the bandana almost ink-black in the dim light of the Upside Down. But you didn’t need to see his face to know his expression was stern. There was something strange in Eddie’s voice as he gently settled a hand on Dustin’s shoulder.

As if he urged the boy to listen.

As if it was the last chance to tell him.

Dustin seemed to sense it, too. His smile slipped, his expression growing serious.

“Never change, Dustin Henderson. Not for anyone. Not ever. Promise me?”

The words were like a punch to your gut.

They sounded like goodbye.

“I…yeah,” Dustin uttered, surprised, but you didn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation.

You spun around, your hand pressed in front of your mouth to suppress the sob already lodged at the back of your throat, the blood roaring in your ears –

The crackle of static pierced the air, followed by Nancy’s urgent voice through Dustin’s walkie.

“They’re in position. You can start diverting the bats.”

“Alright,” Eddie replied, rising to his feet alongside Dustin, who was already in the process of shutting off the walkie again, and Eddie’s gaze met yours as you took a step around the corner.

Only then did you realize you were still holding the empty canister in your grip, fist tightened around the metal handle hard enough to make your knuckles go numb.

“Gimme a sec,” Eddie murmured as Dustin already started to climb the ladder to the roof, and you watched him break into a little sprint towards you.

“You ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world, monster slayer? Might dedicate it to you if you cheer loud enough for m-“ He cut himself off as he reached you, the grin slipping from his face as he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked gently, prying the empty canister from your hand to lace your fingers with his own.

“You were saying goodbye,” you whispered, choked already by the stupid tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Why are you saying goodbye?”

“No, no, no, I didn’t. I just…I dunno, I wanted Henderson to know. That’s all. It was the right moment.”

“You feel it, too,” you breathed. “You can feel that something will happen.”

“Shit, I’m scared out of my mind. But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you, no matter what, remember?”, Eddie inquired softly, raising his free hand, the one with your green silk ribbon tied around his wrist. “You said it always found its way back to you. So will I, sweetheart. Always and forever, ‘kay? Just like you’ll always find your way back to me.”

With the softest smile, he tapped his index finger against his guitar pick dangling around your neck, before he tucked it underneath the collar of your Hellfire shirt for safekeeping.

And with his eyes on yours, he drew the zipper of your own combat vest closed a little higher.

“It’s gonna be metal. And in two months, when we graduated and we’re skinny dipping in the ocean on some Californian beach by night, we’re gonna laugh about it.”

Eddie’s hands snaked up to cup your cheeks while he leaned in, his lips capturing yours for a kiss, searing and passionate and desperate.

So very desperate, his lips moving against yours while he pressed closer, chest to chest, racing heartbeat against racing heartbeat, plunging you into sweet oblivion for a few blissful seconds as your eyes fluttered closed and your senses zoned in on the movement of Eddie’s soft lips on yours, his scent, memorizing the moment.

And once more, you wished you could freeze time right now. Freeze this moment and place it in the glittering world of a snow globe behind thick, polished glass. Keeping it safe.

You memorized it, the way it felt like whenever Eddie kissed you, like sparks and glitter and sunlight rushing through your veins. The way his breath hitched when you reciprocated the kiss, as if he were still surprised by the fact that you were kissing him back. The way his hands were warm on the sides of your face, the way his thumb grazed your racing pulse before he gently angled your head to deepen the kiss, your own fingertips brushing over the fabric of the bandana tied around his head before tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

The way he tasted, of Yoo-Hoo and the faintest trace of cigarettes, of himself.

It was over too soon.

Tears pricked your eyes as Eddie untangled himself from you, his umber eyes shimmering with his own panic as they found yours, holding your gaze as he gently placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you. See you in a few, monster slayer,” Eddie smiled.

I love you, too, you wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in your throat, suffocated by the tears which threatened to spill from you.

Eddie turned to race away, towards the ladder resting against the side of the Munson trailer, the strings of his guitar strapped to his back caught the dim light of the lonely street lamp flickering a few feet away, shedding its pale beam across the space.

Don’t let this have been the last kiss, you silently begged, raising your head towards the skies to combat the tears of panic, a plea at the stars, just like you’d done that November night after you’d broken his heart.

For the briefest of moments, your mind flitted back to that night in November, when you’d been with him on this very roof. When the skies above hadn’t been an endless void, but a glittering sea of stars. When you’d first seen the door with its stained-glass roses – and the Mind Flayer’s spidery silhouette looming right above Eddie. Watching him.

Vecna watching him, finding your weak spot, the one thing in the world which’s loss would thoroughly destroy you.

It was that night, you realized, that Vecna had picked him.

Keep him save.

But there were no stars in the skies arching over the Upside Down.

Only darkness.

But something else stirred awake at your unspoken plea.

Not something in the frozen world around you…but something from within your own chest, your own soul, the darkness which had been nestling there ever since Starcourt – the part of Vecna’s powers you’d stolen – like a sleepy cat raising its head, yellow eyes blinking open to see who’d roused it from its slumber.

And just like at the clearing, with Eddie’s gentle voice guiding you towards that sliver of darkness within your heart, your eyes fluttered closed.

This time, though, for the first time…there was no fear or repulsion when you thought about the darkness.

Something had changed, a few hours ago.

A knife in itself isn’t a bad thing. It can’t be good or bad, it’s just a weapon. It’s a matter of who wields it and for what cause that determines a weapon’s purpose. In those three times these powers have been activated, it has been to protect. Not once did they flare to life to attack.

Eddie’s words were still present in your mind, the truth you hadn’t seen those past few months because fear and panic had been clouding your mind.

All those months, it had been Vecna who’d sent the headaches and nosebleeds, the hallucinations and nightmares that had haunted you like a horde of demons – not darkness you’d ripped from him.

You could feel it react to your thoughts, something alive and conscious yet bound to you, part of you. It laced around your mind like tendrils of black mist, weaving around your thoughts like a cat weaving around its owner’s legs in greeting.

Like a companion.

The realization crossed your mind like the sudden flash of a shooting star cutting through the darkness of your panic.

It wanted to save Eddie, because you wanted to save Eddie.

It loved Eddie, because you loved Eddie.

And all of a sudden…you didn’t feel so alone anymore in your endeavor to protect him.

To your own surprise, you could feel a tentative smile tuck at your lips.

The high-pitched noise of the amplifiers positioned on the Munson trailer’s roof as Eddie connected them to his guitar tore you from your thoughts, and you craned your neck to get a glimpse at him as the first few notes of the guitar riff pierced the eerie silence of the Upside Down.

[MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie had believed they could do it.

That it was possible, to break the curse, set the girl he loved free from her demons and end the horrors haunting Hawkins.

That he could take you to prom, to the beach, whisk you away from small-minded little Hawkins.

But then everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Like a row of dominos collapsing on each other.

And once the first domino had toppled over…there was no way to stop the rest from falling, too, one after the other.

He’d bought you more time – in exchange for all of his own. That’s why people called it buying time, after all. It came with a price.

It was the words within the pages of his favorite story of all that came to his mind, in the end.

I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of the world alone.

He was only sorry that this one lifetime had been such a brutally short one.

[THIRTY MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

The song Eddie had chosen wasn’t soft and slow like the metal songs he’d turned into ballads when he’d played for you Saturday after Saturday to ward off your nightmares while you’d slept in his bed.

It wasn’t an unspoken confession of love he drew from the strings of his guitar right now – it was a declaration of war.

It was a battle cry.

You’d always known Eddie Munson was a force of nature when it came to the things he loved. It had always drawn you in, his unwavering, infectious joy and passion – for D&D, for music and playing the guitar, for metal and art and stories.

But as you watched him now, you realized that Eddie was made for this.

The rooftop of his trailer became his stage, his spotlight the crimson bolts of lightning slashing across the fabric of the starless skies above, illuminating his pale features, making the metal on his hands and his wrists glint.

With a euphoric smile on his lips, he threw his head back, wild dark curls flying around his handsome face and skilled fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar as he let himself get carried away by the music.

You could easily imagine him playing for a crowd of thousands.

He looked beautiful.

Ethereal.

Like a god of war having arrived to wage his wrath upon the human-turned-monster reigning over this dark mirror realm – and win.

When he began to sing, his dark voice beautifully raspy as it laced with the guitar’s tunes in the cold air, it felt like it was thrumming right along your veins.

“End of passion play, crumbling away

I’m your source of self-destruction.”

You could feel the rage against Vecna in every word, every note; the desire to hunt and kill and hurt this monstrous being which had hurt Eddie – and Max, and you, and all the other victims, destroying life after life, silencing heartbeat after heartbeat. Breaking bone after bone.

Not Eddie’s rage, but your own, you realized, his song pulsing alongside your own heartbeat.

“Veins that pump with fear, sucking darkest clear,

Leading on your death’s construction.”

It sounded scratchy and powerful, his beautiful dark voice weaving the lyrics with the melody he drew from his guitar to form the siren’s song that would lure Vecna’s army of bats away from their master, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless for your friends’ bullets to land the killing blow.

“Taste me you will see,

More is all you need,

Dedicated to

How I’m killing you.”

It was evident why Eddie had chosen this song.

He was quite literally flipping Vecna the bird, in his very own Eddie way.

And watching your songbird caught up in his music he so loved, so passionate as his fingers danced over the strings of his beloved guitar and the lyrics spilling from his lips as Dustin took his place at the edge of the roof, binoculars raised and gaze already trained on the western skies, towards Creel House, you couldn’t help the wide, happy grin tucking at your lips at the infectious joy Eddie was radiating.

“Come crawling faster.”

Tearing your gaze away from Eddie, you squinted, following Dustin’s line of sight to the western sky in the distance, the dark thunderclouds rolling in to herald the storm to come.

And there, above the treetops of the nearby woods…were the first bats.

The ones which must have been closer – only a few, trailblazers for the swarm which would soon follow suit.

Winged death.

And a cruel one, at that.

“Obey your master.”

Over the noise of Eddie’s music, you didn’t hear the sound of the door to the trailer creaking on its rusty old hinges as it was being opened.

“Your life burns faster.”

Neither did you hear the footsteps behind you, drawing closer.

“Obey your

Master

Master.”

A hand settled on your shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of your own combat vest as your heart dropped with shock and you whirled around.

Coming face to face with a pair of steel blue eyes, bloodshot and crazed with madness.

“Master of puppets, I’m pulling your strings.”

You opened your mouth in shock, but the shellshocked gasp was cut off as Jason’s hand shot out to wrap around your throat.

There was no chance for you to call out for Eddie, to warn him and Dustin.

“Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams.”

“Game over, slut.” Jason’s voice, low and calm like that of a preacher during his Sunday morning sermon, was barely audible over the noise of the music.

But the look in his bloodshot eyes changed, growing darker, hungrier even than before as they locked on a point behind you.

On Eddie.

Too diverted by playing bait for a swarm of monsters on the roof at top volume to notice the ones which had followed you through the gate from the other side.

“Blinded by me you can’t see a thing.”

With Jason’s hand squeezing your throat, cutting off oxygen and making the first stars dancing in your vision as panic swept over you, you closed your eyes and reached out to rouse the darkness nestled within your soul to command it, wield it like a fairy tale knight his flaming sword – but you were too slow.

Jason slammed your head against the trailer’s wall.

“Just call my name ‘cause I’ll hear you scream.”

Stars burst in your vision as the side of your face hit the wall, the pain of the impact hitting you like one of the crimson bolts of lightning above to split your skull as Jason finally let go of your throat.

“Master

Master.”

You slid down the wall, falling like a puppet with its strings cut, your muscles disobeying the desperate command to climb back to your feet while the world spun around you as if you’d been strapped to a carousel, going faster and faster and faster until the world was split into two, three images, all dancing over each other.

Three Jasons looming above you, raising their head like a creature sprung straight out of the cover of one of Eddie’s D&D books, six pairs of eyes locking on the rooftop of the trailer.

“Watch the slut,” he commanded, and in your daze, you followed his gaze to the second person standing on top of the steps to the Munson trailer, his baseball cap casting a shadow across his face, only the flash of his teeth visible as gave you a leering grin.

“My pleasure.”

Andy Warren.

With a nod Jason turned towards the ladder leaning at the trailer’s side, ready to climb towards Eddie and Dustin on the roof – before, one fist already clamped around one of the ladder’s steps, he paused.

You fought the nausea, fought for your hands to splay on the dead grass, fingers digging into the cold earth as your vision started to clear, three Jasons becoming one again while his free hand disappeared in the pocket of his letterman jacket.

“Come crawling faster.”

Help me, you pleaded at the darkness in your soul, reaching out but finding nothing but skull-splitting pain in your head, the ringing in your ears and the roar of your own blood mingling with Eddie’s song, loud enough to drown out the havoc on the ground at his feet as his own eyes and Dustin’s were locked at the distant skies, the first of the bats soaring towards you all across the treetops of the woods.

“Obey your master.”

And through the haze creeping in at the edges of your vision, more lights burst in front of your eyes as Jason pulled his hand out of his pocket again – only it wasn’t lights.

“Your life burns faster.”

It was the glint of a lightning bolt catching on the polished metal surface of whatever it was Jason was holding.

A gun.

Jason had a gun.

No. No, no –

With panic morphing into raw, unfiltered terror, the surge of adrenaline momentarily conquered the pain and the daze of the blow to your head as you crawled across the grass towards Jason, ready to climb to your feet and stop him –

“Be a good girl and stay here, little slut,” Andy drawled. The tip of his sneaker hit your side as he kicked you down into the grass again, hard enough to force the air from your lungs for a second time and plunge you into a world of pain as you felt your ribs cracking, the sensation vibrating through your body as the impact forced you on your back.

“Obey your master.”

There was no air, no strength left in you for a warning scream – but Eddie and Dustin wouldn’t have heard it, anyways. The music was too loud.

And the last thing you saw as your senses were slipping, like water running through your hands as tears of panic and despair ran down your cheeks and fell into the grass, was the glinting gun clamped in Jason’s fist as he climbed the ladder to the roof.

To Eddie.

Just as the first trailblazers of the swarm reached the trailer park.

***

There was never much going on in Eddie’s mind when he played the guitar or sang.

There was only the music, a current washing through him, stronger than the strongest weed could ever be as it infused him with the kind of ecstatic happiness that made him feel like he was flying, like the world was small and far away and the music his wings.

There were only two things that could make him as happy, as alive and awake. Making music – and being with you.

And fucking hell, he was good.

A little bit of self-hype in the face of a slow, painful death currently drawing closer in the distance on leathery wings, he figured, was okay.

It definitely was the most metal concert in the history of the world.

In this moment, Eddie felt more metal than Ozzy himself.

He’d wanted to take you to the Hideout one day so you could see him play with Corroded Coffin…but he wasn’t sure if anything could ever top this.

Most. Metal. Ever.

And in the haze of endorphins and serotonin and all the other -ins currently flooding his system as his fingers danced over the strings of his guitar, his muscles guided by reflexes more than anything else and the lyrics of the song spilling from his lips, it took a few split seconds for Eddie to notice the flash of movement in the corner of his eye.

And when he finally did, it was too late.

The song was cut off, the final note floating among the white spores dancing in the cold air as Eddie froze mid-movement, his eyes locking on the icy blue ones of Jason Carver – before they flitted down.

Coming to rest on the gun aimed right at Eddie’s face.

“Hey, freak,” Jason spat.

His fists were clutching the gun so tightly that his knuckles were white – but there was no tremor running through his hands.

He was as deadly calm as the atmosphere of this dark dimension.

“Jason,” Eddie replied quietly, fighting hard and failing miserably to banish the quiver of panic from his voice as he slowly let go of the guitar strapped around his torso to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender – in the hopes to keep Jason’s focus from straying to Dustin, who was cowering on the roof somewhere behind Eddie.

And if Jason was here, had followed through the gate –

“Where is she,” Eddie breathed, his eyes leaving the barrel of the gun to read Jason’s.

There was not a single spark of sanity left in them.

Nothing, not even the moment he’d realized Vecna had caught you in a trance, could compare to the raw terror gripping Eddie now, like a numbing, freezing, icy wave.

Not for the first of the murderous swarm of bats drawing closer with every second, not even for the gun aimed at his face, but at the thought of what Jason might have done to you, the image of that September night when he’d found you in the woods conjured up into his mind once more.

The smirk on Jason’s lips made Eddie want to throw up.

“Your little slut’s in good company. Andy’s taking care of her until I’m done with you.”

It felt as if someone had injected the icy water of Lover’s Lake straight into Eddie’s veins.

But before he could muster a reply, a high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek pierced the frozen air, making his gaze flit towards the woods, the first black dots against the backdrop of the dark skies illuminated by those eerie crimson flashes of lightning, before his eyes found Jason’s again.

“Listen,” Eddie tried, his voice trembling as hard as his hands, still raised in a gesture of surrender, “This thing that hurt Chrissy and Patrick and Fred Benson? It’s here. It lives here. And we’re here because we want to stop it. Make sure it won’t hurt anyone ever again. And right now, this thing – this, this demon – is sending its army of monsters right here so we need to get away from –“

“SHUT UP!” Jason’s roar came out of nowhere, making Eddie jump. “Don’t you dare say her name. Any of their names.”

Another high-pitched shriek echoed through the air, drawing closer and closer – but Eddie didn’t dare pull his gaze away from Jason again to check how close the bats already were.

He needed a distraction. He needed to get that fucking gun out of Jason’s hands, get Dustin and himself away from the roof and to you before the bats or Andy or whatever shit would happen next could hurt you, hurt any of them.

“DON’T MOVE!”, Jason hollered, and Eddie’s heart dropped to the floor a second time as he realized Jason had noticed Dustin somewhere behind Eddie.

“He’s telling the truth,” Dustin began quietly, his voice even. “Eddie didn’t hurt anyone. He’s trying to help. The demon –“

“The demon you summoned,” Jason hissed, his cold eyes locking on Eddie’s again. “You and your little cult. The boy’s in with you, right? Him and Sinclair. Your acolytes.”

“We don’t have time –“

“Dustin!”, Eddie hissed to silence Dustin, draw Jason’s attention away from the boy and back to himself as he slowly inched to the side, to put himself between the barrel of Jason’s gun and Dustin.

Time was running out.

Judging by the sound of shrieks and screeches filling the air, there were seconds left until the first of the bats would arrive at the trailer park – and minutes until the rest of the swarm drawn away from Creel House would follow suit.

“I know what you did. Sold your soul to the devil to make fires with your mind. But you know what? Fire won’t be fast enough. Not against a bullet.”

“You know what else will be faster? These things,” Eddie hissed, the shrieks filling the air growing louder by the second. But Jason didn’t budge, didn’t let his focus on Eddie falter.

“They’ll eat you alive,” Dustin breathed.

“Yeah?”, Jason sneered, taking a step closer towards Eddie, “Let them try. I got enough bullets. But the first one –“

There was a resounding click as Jason cocked the gun.

“The first one’s for you, freak.”

***

Pain. The world was ablaze with blinding, white-hot pain thumping through your skull, your ribs, charging through you with every beat of your pulse and every labored intake of breath as you fought for your muscles to obey your desperate commands to move, to somehow get the fuck up from the ground and race after Jason, terror clouding your muddled senses.

Your fingers sinking into the cold, dead ground of the Upside Down, fingernails breaking and teeth gritted with fierce determination, you dragged yourself towards the ladder, Andy’s leering chuckle sounding from behind you as he watched you struggle and fail to climb back to your feet.

There was something warm and sticky running down the side of your face – but whether it were tears or blood, you couldn’t tell. Didn’t care to tell.

There were shrieks in the distance, neither human nor animal. You didn’t need to look at the western sky to know what it was. The first bats, heralding the murderous swarm to follow suit. And the screeches were drawing closer fast.

You needed to get up.

Your hand splayed on the dead grass, and with a suppressed hiss of pain as your cracked rib protested at the movement and your skull felt like a glass vase shattering on the floor, you dragged yourself up to your feet.

“Aw, look at you, little slut,” Andy cooed. “Are you in love with the freak?”

A low wail ripped from you as Andy grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking you backwards, against him.

“What do you see in that creep, anyways, huh?”, he crooned into your ear, his hot breath stale as it hit the side of your face, overpowering panic gripping you as Andy’s free hand clamped around your jaw, forcing your head up at the three silhouettes on the roof. Dustin, cowering on the ground behind Eddie, his hands raised – and Jason, holding Eddie at gunpoint.

“Jason’s gonna blow a bullet right into his ugly face. Send him straight down to Hell where he belongs.”

Help me, you pleaded at the darkness, but the haze clouding your senses was too strong, the spinning sensation too fast. The darkness didn’t heed your call.

Your senses were still reeling from the blow to your head, the crack in your ribs, the panic shrouding your mind in impenetrable fog as Jason’s shout rang out from the roof, the words muddled by the ringing in your ears, high-pitched and growing louder and louder.

Only that it wasn’t in your ears, but in the air.

And Andy was ripped away from you.

With his iron grip holding you upright gone, your legs gave in once more and you tumbled back into the grass as Andy’s scream rang through the night air, the crack of a gunshot ringing through the air, too loud –

But it wasn’t Jason who’d shot, you realized, momentary relief surging through you on another wave of adrenaline as you raised your head from the grass as a second gunshot sounded, like the crack of a whip, and a third, lacing with Andy’s screams.

The bats had him in a chokehold.

Right now, there were only a few of them, half a dozen in a blur of pale leathery wings, the horrors from your nightmares come to life. Andy’s bullets had missed them.

They were holding him on the ground, paper-streamer-tails wrapped around his limbs like ropes. His fist around the hilt of his gun loosened as one of the creatures wrapped its tail around his throat to silence his panicked screams, and the weapon fell from his hand, useless against the monstrous creatures, anyways.

More of them shot down from the skies, and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for them to get you next.

But they didn’t.

There was a muted wail of pain ripping from Andy, nearly drowned out by the cacophony of screeching and hissing.

When your eyes flew open again, it was to the gruesome image of the bats sinking teeth and talons into Andy’s chest, blood splattering – but none of the creatures attacked you.

As if they didn’t even notice you were there, helpless and struggling on the cold ground mere feet away.

Another flash of lightning zigzagged across the skies above, everything too bright, too loud, a pandemonium of noise and light and nausea.

Your eyes fell on something small, discarded in the grass.

Andy’s gun.

***

“Call them back.” Jason’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the screeches of the bats, over Andy Warren’s agonized, throttled wails as those…those things were eating him alive.

Eddie needed to get down there, needed to get to you, and get you and Dustin away from these things –

“I SAID CALL THEM BACK, FREAK!”

There was a streak of panic mingling with the hatred in Jason’s scream now as he waved the cocked gun at Eddie’s head, making him shrink back, still blocking Dustin from the madman’s line of vision, “CALL THESE FUCKING THINGS BACK!”

And through the daze of panic, it dawned on Eddie that Jason thought he’d been commanding them with his guitar.

“I can’t.”

“CALL THEM BACK OR I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!”

Andy’s screams were growing louder, more agonized, more nauseating with every second.

Before Eddie could muster a reply, tell Jason he couldn’t…the clap of a gunshot pierced the air.

***

You couldn’t remember how you’d managed to climb back to your feet to throw yourself onto Andy’s discarded weapon, or the feeling of your fingers closing around its hilt.

But you remembered the feeling of grim determination flooding you as you’d raised the gun, aiming at the figure on the roof, the green of his letterman jacket marking the bullseye.

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d ever aim a gun at something else than a monster, at another person – but Jason was as much of a monster as the creatures devouring Andy Warren behind you, his agonized, muted wails dying down, drowning in the cacophony of screeches and the noise of flesh being ripped from his bones.

But the horror of Andy’s death cries, the hissing, screeching bats, the Upside Down…it all blurred into insignificance as you cocked the gun, your arms trembling with the remaining strength the adrenaline in your veins managed to rally.

There was not a single second of hesitation.

When your index finger settled on the trigger, your mind’s eye didn’t conjure up the memory of the look Jason had given you that September night as he’s forced his legs between yours, pressed you against the picnic table.

No.

It showed you the memory of Jason, hovering above Eddie, your songbird slumped in Andy’s grip and dark curls spilling over his shoulders to hide his bloodied face as Jason raised the crowbar, the glint of silver moonlight catching on metal.

His words, spat at Eddie.

Let’s give the Freak a taste of his own medicine. I want to see how many bones we can break before we need a new crowbar.

You pulled the trigger.

***

The shot was a miss, the bullet not even grazing Jason before it hit the amplifier behind him, a rain of sparks flying in the air as the device died with an ear-shattering screech to momentarily rival the noise of the bats on the ground, the ones drawing closer above the woods.

But it was all the diversion Eddie needed.

Jason noticed his mistake too late.

With a roar of rage ripping from Eddie, the guitar soared down, Jason’s bloodshot eyes widening as they locked on Eddie’s – and Jason grunted in surprise as the guitar knocked the gun from his grip.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze as Eddie and Jason watched as the gun slid across the rooftop, the scraping sound of it drowned out by Andy Warren’s dying cries as the bats continued to devour him.

The shellshocked moment was broken when Eddie’s eyes met Jason’s, abysses of rage and madness staring back.

Eddie lunged towards the discarded gun, having come to a stop at the edge of the trailer’s roof – but so did Jason, throwing himself onto the weapon just as Eddie reached it, and together, they plummeted from the roof.

The impact made blinding pain bolt through Eddie as he landed on his side, right on the cracked ribs Andy Warren had left with his crowbar, the force of it muting Eddie’s pained scream as stars danced in his vision, but he couldn’t wait for the pain to ebb.

He needed to get back to his feet and get the fucking gun before Jason could, and he needed to find you.

A hiss of pain ripping from Eddie’s throat, he rolled over, onto his stomach, elbows digging into the dead grass of the lawn as, through the pain exploding in his side, he fought himself up to his feet. A wave of dizziness swept over him before he caught himself, one hand splayed against the trailer’s side to steady himself.

The first thing he saw when he blinked back the tears of pain was Andy.

Or…what was left of him.

There was a twitch running through the guy’s hand, sprawled on the ground, coated with blood, as the bats continued to consume him, the wet sounds of teeth and talons tearing through skin and muscle and tissue too loud.

Eddie felt acidic bile rise in his throat as he averted his gaze, the horrid image already burned in his mind, joining Chrissy and her broken bones in his own collection of nightmares to haunt him. He would endure them all, as long as when he woke up drenched in sweat and tears with a scream on his lips, he would only have to turn and see you slumbering peacefully next to him.

Eddie could endure whatever shit would come his way, as long as you were there beside him.

But he was too late.

Eddie’s eyes locked on yours, wide and terrified in Jason’s chokehold, the gun pressed against the side of your head, a sickening grin twisting the jock’s freckled features as his cold eyes met Eddie’s.

“Game over, freak.”

And in the sky behind Jason, the swarm of bats had reached the edge of the woods.

***

He’d been over you before your muddled mind could catch up with what was happening, kicking the gun out of your grip with ease before grabbing the weapon and dragging you off the ground, your struggle weak, movements sluggish as if you were stuck in mud.

The barrel of the gun was cold against your skin as Jason pressed the weapon against your temple now, his arm locked around your throat to keep you in a chokehold, your back pressed against his chest.

Your vision blurred, coming in and out of focus before your eyes found Eddie’s.

There were tearstains glittering on his pale cheeks, and the cut on his brow you’d mended with the fish hook had ruptured again, fresh blood running down his temple, a few stray curls sticking to the crimson rivulets as he pushed himself away from the trailer’s wall, swaying a little on his feet while his hands shot to his side as his face contorted with pain, the spot where Andy’s crowbar had hit home back at the boathouse to crack Eddie’s ribs.

“Let her go,” Eddie breathed, his eyes travelling from yours to Jason’s, wide and pleading.

Help me, you screamed once more at the darkness you’d ripped away from Vecna, reaching out to grasp it, rouse it like you’d done in the boathouse, but you couldn’t reach it through the muddled daze in your mind.

If Jason had realized what had happened to Andy, he didn’t care.

The sickening sounds of the bats feasting on what was left of Andy were swallowed by the noise of the swarm, drawing closer by the second.

They’d tear you all to ribbons – if the bats occupied with Andy’s remains didn’t tire of him to do the job before the rest of the swarm could reach you.

Eddie moved to dart towards you before Jason’s hiss made him freeze once more. “Don’t. Move. Or I’ll kill her.”

The nausea churning in your guts was overpowering at the feeling of Jason’s hot breath hitting the side of your face, the barrel of the gun pressed so hard against your temple that you could feel the bruise forming beneath the metal already.

“I followed you because I wanted to kill you, Freak. For what you did to Chrissy. But I think I got a better idea.” Jason’s grip around your throat tightened, making darkness creep in at the edges of your vision as you gasped for air. “So much better. You took Chrissy. I’ll take your little slut. It’s fair, don’t you think?”

Eddie’s umber eyes were wide with terror as they locked on yours, tears spilling from his eyes – but his face blurred beneath your own tears as Jason forced you to the ground, your knees hitting the cold dirt and pain burst through your body as his chokehold around you loosened to grab a fistful of your hair, so hard that if felt as if he’d rip your scalp clean off.

The click as he cocked the gun vibrated through your throbbing skull –

“I did it.”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, having reached its breaking point, Jason’s grip on you stilled.

“I killed Chrissy,” Eddie repeated quietly, his panicked gaze flicking to you before it settled on Jason again, and horrid realization hit you about what Eddie was doing.

Because Jason was so caught up in his twisted vigilante fantasies, in his own version of the story painting him a tragic hero and Eddie the monstrous villain to defeat. And Eddie was giving him what he wanted, a shot in the dark to buy more time and keep Jason occupied.

“I summoned a demon and made a deal. Create fires with my mind. And in exchange, he wanted lives. He chose them, I brought them to him. Fred, Patrick. Chrissy.” Eddie’s voice was growing steady as he spoke, the skilled dungeon master taking over to weave the desperate lie. Only his hands, curled into fists at his sides in an attempt to hide the tremors running through him, betrayed his panic and despair. With a small nod at you, he breathed, “The demon wants her next. She’s under a spell.”

“A spell,” Jason echoed hollowly. “Chrissy was under a spell.”

It attested Jason’s descend into madness that he truly believed the absurd fairy tale Eddie was weaving for him.

And maybe, just maybe…it could work.

“That’s why Chrissy went with you. You put her under a spell.”

No, you wanted to hiss at Jason, Chrissy went to buy drugs because she knew you wouldn’t care enough to help her.

“Is – is she under that spell now?” Pain shot through you as Jason gave you a little nudge, his fist still in your hair to keep you from falling face-first to the ground, drawing a weak cry from you.

His jaw set with grim determination, Eddie said, “Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you. Your little slut came to the boathouse. She –“

“Do you think she’d have ever wanted anything to do with Eddie The Freak?”, Eddie spat, and your heart squeezed in your chest at his words, echoing those he’d used in the cafeteria that day when he’d faced off Jason for spreading his vile, ugly lies.

It was exactly what Jason wanted to hear.

This wasn’t about Chrissy, or even you.

It was all about Jason and his ego, his hurt pride. And it had always been.

And Eddie, clever, empathic Eddie, knew exactly how to wield Jason’s narcissism in his own favor.

It dawned on you that Eddie wasn’t trying to buy more time to figure another way to save you both.

He was trying to paint you as the damsel in distress in need of saving, playing Jason’s game, and rendering himself the villain so Jason could be the hero he saw himself as.

So Jason would let you go.

There was a beat of hesitation, of Jason’s grasp around you loosening – before it tightened once more, ripping your head back while he bent down to you, his stench of sweat mingling with the tang of blood in the air as, his breath stirring your hair, he sneered, “You love her.”

There was an incredulous, maniacal laugh bubbling from Jason’s lips. “Eddie The Freak is in love. You know what? I don’t care if she’s under a spell. You’re not. You took Chrissy. I’ll take your slut. Say bye-bye.”

It happened too fast for your muddled mind to catch up.

Eddie’s eyes widened, tensing as his hands shot out as he darted forward as if in an attempt to tackle Jason to the ground, rip him away from you before he could pull the trigger – but someone else was faster.

There was a low grunt as Jason’s grip around you vanished, and you fell to the ground, hands splaying in the cold dirt to catch your fall as you whirled around. To Dustin.

He must’ve made his way down from the roof while the rest of you had been diverted, snuck up on Jason. And with a roar, Dustin raised the branch he’d picked up from the ground, ready to swing it at Jason for a second time.

But this time, Jason saw it coming.

And he was so much stronger than Dustin.

The roar morphed into a wail of pain as Jason’s fist connected with the boy’s face before you could command your muscles to move and stop him, and Dustin slumped to the ground.

And before you could charge at Jason, he whirled around, his fist connecting with your cheek – and in a rain of stars, you fell to the ground, and the world went dark.

***

Eddie had never been violent.

He’d always been a small kid, the punching ball for the bigger kids, too weak to ever even land a blow in return until puberty had struck, and he’d shot up, becoming tall enough for his height and his metal clothes to ward off any more physical attacks.

And even now, tall as he was, he was lanky. And no matter how strong he was, he probably wasn’t strong enough to best Jason, the jock, in a fight.

But despair and adrenaline and rage, the kind of blind rage Eddie had never felt before in his life before he’d ripped Jason away from you that September night, were like his very own superpower running through his veins as he charged, his fist clamping around the collar of Jason’s letterman jacket to yank him away from you and Dustin, his free hand already curled into a fist to land the first blow.

There was a split second of grim satisfaction at the sensation of his rings slamming against Jason’s cheek, metal meeting bone as pain shot through his fist at the impact.

The feeling didn’t last.

Jason’s crazed eyes flashing with fury, he attacked.

Eddie was too slow.

Before he could duck away, Jason’s fist slammed into his broken ribs, and Eddie’s scream was muted as the air was squeezed from him at the pain searing through his body, his legs giving in as Jason crashed into him.

***

Wake up.

It wasn’t a voice, exactly.

It was a feeling, something nudging and urging you from within, black mist battling the one numbing your mind and senses as you realized the shred of Vecna’s – of your – powers had finally been roused.

And it was stronger than the ringing in your ears, the pain in your skull, the spinning carousel of your senses; a tether of steel anchoring you amidst the storm that pushed your senses like a tiny little kite.

Your eyes flew open, your vision sharpening, colors crashing back to you as your eyes locked on the sky.

It was the color of a fresh bruise, crimson flashes zigzagging across like angry welts on skin, black thunderclouds rolling in fast over the nearby woods –

No.

Not thunderclouds.

Bats.

Hundreds, thousands of creatures like the ones which were still ripping the flesh from Andy Warren’s bones at the end of the yard.

And they’d nearly reached the trailer park.

It was the final realization to make the rest of your senses snap back to reality, pierce the haze clouding your mind.

Eddie. And Dustin.

You pushed yourself up from the ground, eyes snapping up to Dustin, rolled up on his side and obviously dazed by the blow to his head.

“Dustin, can you get up?”, you pressed, clambering to your knees as your eyes scanned your surroundings for Eddie.

He was on the ground mere feet away from you, Jason on top of him, pinning him into the dirt with his own weight as Eddie struggled against the hold.

There was a swift movement as Jason drew back his fist for another punch – but the blow never followed.

Instead, there was a flash of something, glinting in the sparse light, and your heart skipped its next beat as you fought yourself to your feet, far too slow to reach Eddie in time, your body going numb with shock.

Because clutched tightly in Jason’s fist, the serrated blade glinting eerily in the half-light, was a hunting knife.

***

Eddie’s name rang through the air on your scream, your voice breaking with panic.

Reflexes taking over, Eddie’s hand shot out to stop the trajectory of Jason’s knife as it soared down towards his exposed throat, adrenaline taking the wheel.

He didn’t feel pain as his fist wrapped around the jagged blade of Jason’s hunting knife mid-air.

He didn’t even feel the blood welling up where the serrated metal was sinking into the skin of his palm, dripping down on him like warm summer rain, Jason hovering right above him, his weight pressing Eddie to the ground.

In that moment, Eddie was certain not even Vecna’s eyes could hold so much madness and evil as Jason’s did right now; glaring abysses of nothing but hatred and bloodlust, his features twisted into a crazed grimace as his other hand, the one which had been pinning Eddie’s left arm to the ground, flew up, gripping the knife’s handle with both hands as he leaned his entire weight on it now, driving it closer to Eddie’s exposed neck, inch by inch, pain now flaring from the deep gash – but if he let go now, Jason would kill him.

The tip of the serrated blade grazed Eddie’s throat, cold metal biting the skin right above his collarbone as he realized he was losing, horribly losing this fight, the dice falling on a natural one to seal his fate at the hands of Jason Carver.

Eddie’s other hand, the one not wrapped around the blade, groped at the dead grass at his side, for a stone, something, anything to use to get Jason and his knife off of him.

Eddie could feel blood welling from the cut on his neck, collecting in a little pool in the hollow above his collarbone as Jason pushed the knife further, Eddie’s strength fading, the pain searing in his palm clutching the serrated blade growing unbearable, making him scream –

“It’s funny, to see you struggle”, Jason hissed, spit dribbling from his lips.

By now, he looked more like a rabid beast than a person.

There.

Eddie’s fingers brushed against something in the grass, cool and smooth, the familiar feeling of it beneath his fingertips like discovering a friendly face in a crowd of strangers.

He didn’t need to look to know what it was. Hope flooded him as his hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar. It must have come loose when he’d tumbled from the roof.

“Just like your little slut struggled, in the woods.” Jason sneered, before a lewd smirk tucked at his lips and his voice morphed, becoming as calm as the surface of a pond. “She missed out. I would’ve made her feel so much better than you could ever have, freak.”

Eddie knew Jason had meant the words as a final stab, a final I’ve won, before his knife would slit Eddie’s throat.

But the memory Jason’s words conjured up, of you, struggling as Jason pinned you against that picnic table, his hands forcing their way underneath the hem of your cheerleader skirt right before Eddie had ripped him away from you, was what tipped the scales.

With a blazing surge of rage, Eddie swung the guitar – just as Jason was tackled off of him.

***

You didn’t remember how you’d managed to climb back to your feet, how your trembling legs had carried you across the dead grass, staggering towards Eddie and Jason.

There was only blind despair and white-hot fury fueling your movements as, with a roar of all the pent-up anger and hatred at Jason Carver, you crashed into him, tackling him off of Eddie like Eddie had ripped him away from you back in the woods that fateful September night six months ago.

The impact catapulted you to the ground alongside Jason, his contorted face a demonic mask as he used the momentum to roll on top of you, his hands closing around your throat –

***

The guitar’s strings released a distorted tone into the half-dark when Eddie slammed the instrument into the side of Jason’s head, hard enough for the impact to splinter his beloved guitar with an ugly crunching noise that reminded Eddie of the sound of Chrissy Cunningham’s bones snapping on his ceiling, and Jason was knocked off of you, slumping in the grass beside you like a limp rag.

With a silent thank you at his beloved guitar, Eddie let the pieces fall into the grass, pulling you to your feet with a swift motion as his uninjured hand came up to your cheek, his eyes finding yours, scanning you for injuries, but there was no time to check, or grasp what had just happened, or gather you up in his arms.

“WE GOTTA GO!” Dustin’s howl mingled with the noise of the swarm, of thousands of wings flapping in the air as they descended upon the Forest Hills trailer park.

There was no time to check on each other, to set the ring of gasoline on fire as initially planned to form a second barrier against the bats. The trailer’s reinforcements would have to do.

His hand gripping yours, Eddie dragged you towards the trailer.

And then the bats were there.

Ready to feast.

***

It had been Dustin’s idea to use the veranda door instead of the front door, the canopy of the roof and the metal fencing you’d fastened around to form a cage the perfect first barrier against the vicious swarm of monsters hot on your heels when Eddie slammed the fence’s door closed with the rattling of metal lacing and the furious screeches of the first bats as they slammed into the fence.

Their frustrated screeches rang in your ears as Eddie locked the fence’s door with a quick movement, jumping back before the creatures’ claws reaching through the gaps of the metal could catch him.

You jumped as one of the creatures smashed into the fence right in front of your face, and with only the fence wire between you and the beast, you stared in horror.

Up close, they looked even deadlier than in your nightmares.

Serrated claws made to slice through bone in a fellow swoop, eyeless faces opening up to a sea of razorblade-teeth, the putrid stench of rotting meat clinging to their pallid, leathery skin making your guts churn with nausea.

They weren’t beasts of prey. No, beasts of prey hunted to survive.

Those creatures…they were made to kill for the sake of killing.

Slowly.

Cruelly.

The images your mind conjured up, of those serrated, hooked claws tearing through Eddie’s skin, through muscle and sinew and bone as he screamed in agony, pinned you in place before Eddie ripped you from your trance, his gentle hands pulling you backwards into the trailer.

Another door slamming shut, another chain rattling as Eddie put the lock in place, the scrape of metal against metal barely audible against the cacophony of screeching, hissing, screaming.

The noise of the bats hailing against the door, the walls, the roof was that of a hailstorm as the three of you caught your breaths.

When you’d reinforced the trailer with the metal plates, you’d been certain it would hold.

Now you wondered if that had been a terrible miscalculation.

“Shit,” Eddie panted, breaking the shaken silence before he turned around to come face to face with Dustin and you.

Blood was splattered across his throat, dripping from a shallow cut above his collarbone and soaking the fabric of the Hellfire shirt peeking out from under the combat vest. Dirt and grass and spores had caught in the dark curls spilling from the bandana around his head, and more blood was running from the gash on his brow which had ripped open again at some point as his chest heaved with every pant as his eyes flitted from you to Dustin and back, assessing the damage.

Eddie opened his mouth to utter a reply, but he was interrupted by Dustin’s shout, “EDDIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”, making Eddie and you jump, and your heart froze in your chest as you stared at the spot on Eddie’s side Dustin was frantically pointing at.

On the polished wooden hilt of Jason’s knife lodged there.

“JESUS H CHRIST,” Eddie called out with a squeal rivalling the bat’s shrieks outside as he pulled the knife out of his side before you could protest, mind racing with panic because you should never, ever, ever take the weapon out of a stab wound because it would only further the blood loss, your hands trembling uncontrollably as Eddie let himself sink to the ground and you moved to rip open the zipper of his combat vest to assess the damage, Dustin shouts high-pitched beside you, “Holy shit! Holy shit!” –

But when you pushed the vest aside to assess the damage Jason’s knife had done beneath, there was no blood. Not a single droplet.

The three of you fell silent again, the havoc of the bats raging outside momentarily blurring against the ringing in your ears as all of you stared at the pearly white fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt.

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie whispered, one hand pressed over his heart in shock, “Holy fuck.”

“Dude,” Dustin agreed on a trembling breath.

“How –?”

“The vest,” you murmured, lifting the side of the padded fabric, the two frayed holes where the blade had gone clean through, a hair’s breadth past Eddie’s side.

“Guess you were right about pulling up the zipper, huh,” Eddie stated weakly, and you raised the broken zipper in your hand.

“I broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie gave you a shaken grin, “It did its job.”

Another beat of silence, before Eddie rose back to his feet, swaying a little with residual shock before his gaze travelled from Dustin to you to assess the damage, before he croaked, “Anybody hurt?”

Dustin cocked an eyebrow. “Dude. Everybody’s hurt.”

A noise made you start, something slamming against the front door with more fervor than before, and your eyes met Eddie’s.

“We need get out of here.”

“It worked,” Dustin breathed, hands coming up to his head with a wide, bewildered grin on his face, “It fucking worked!”

There was unspoken understanding crossing between Eddie and you.

Because with the noise of the bats trying to find their way into the trailer…you weren’t so sure whether you shared Dustin’s optimism.

And the dark feeling in your guts was right…somebody had to keep the bats out of the trailer and away from the gate before they could wreak havoc and bloodbath over the Rightside Up Hawkins.

It wasn’t over yet.

With a subtle nod at you, Eddie turned to Dustin. “Okay, Dustin, get your ass through the gate. See if you can reach Erica to check in with them. We’re gonna be with you in a minute.”

“What? Why?! It’s only a sprained ankle. I fell a little weird when I jumped off the roof, that’s all. I can still –“

“Dustin,” Eddie interjected, more vehemently than probably intended, his voice strained as he tried to speak over the havoc the swarm was wreaking outside, “For once, do what you’re told, ‘kay? You’re limping, for fuck’s sake. What are you gonna do if these things come in here, argue with them?!”

To your surprise, Dustin actually clamped his mouth shut and heeded Eddie’s command without another attempt to change his mind, limping over towards the makeshift rope dangling from the gate in the middle of the living room as Eddie watched him, swatting a few of the spores away from his face before he inquired gently, “You need some help, man?”

Dustin gave him a grin over his shoulder.

“How? Are you gonna yeet me to the other side?”

“If you keep that tone, I might,” Eddie snickered while he watched Dustin start climbing, before turning back to you, and all the lightheartedness left his face, the mask stripped to reveal the terror beneath, before he raised his hand to cup your cheek.

His jaw set when his umber eyes locked on the gash on your brow where Jason had slammed your head against the trailer’s wall.

“It’s just a scratch,” you murmured.

“It’s not.” Eddie’s low voice was trembling so hard it was breaking. “What else…?”

“A concussion. A few broken ribs, pretty sure” you flinched, giving him a lopsided smirk, “Now we match.”

You reached out to grab Eddie’s other hand, coated with the blood running through his fingers and dripping to the floor, and you winced as you gently pried his fist open to reveal the deep cut running through his palm as Eddie let out a pained wince of his own.

“Uh, guess I’m officially Kas The Bloody-Handed now, huh?”, Eddie announced weakly. “Though I can’t handle another fish-hook-situation.”

There was no time for stitches, anyways.

Judging by the noise of the swarm pounding down on the trailer…you needed to get ready to fight.

With a small nod, you reached for the first-aid box Eddie had deposited on the kitchen aisle when you’d all went through the gate a few hours ago.

It was so Eddie, to think of something as small yet so significant like that little first-aid box.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat as you unrolled one of the gauze strips, and Eddie watched as you started to wrap the material around his palm, as firmly as possible to staunch the bleeding.

A few seconds longer, and Jason’s knife would have cut right to the bone.

The thought of Jason falling victim to those things ripping at the trailer’s outsides held that familiar feeling of dark, grim satisfaction. This time, though, there was no guilt, no shame about it.

“Monster slayer?”

At his softspoken words, your head snapped up from the bandage, meeting Eddie’s eyes which were swimming with concern, the silent question within. Are you okay?

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Your whisper was swallowed by the noise of the bats hailing against the walls, the roof, hacking and clawing at the metal reinforcements in their search for a way inside.

But Eddie had heard you, anyways.

“I dunno,” he said gently, his uninjured hand grasping yours. Watching you, he brushed the pad of his thumb over your wrist, the soothing little gesture you’d already become so used to, “Do you want him to be?”

Jason had been unconscious, knocked out by the blow to the head with Eddie’s guitar – but the bats would do to him what they’d done to Andy. The memory of it, the wet, squelching sounds of flesh being ripped from bones, made your guts churn and bile rise in your throat. You didn’t yet know what to feel about both of their cruel demises. But after everything they’d done, would have done…you couldn’t find it in you to pity them.

Not right now.

Maybe not ever.

All that mattered right now was that Team Crit Hit would be able to kill Vecna, that your friends and Eddie were safe.

“I want him to never hurt anyone ever again,” you finally replied.

“He won’t,” Eddie soothed, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, a moment of quiet understanding passing between the two of you, his presence a sanctuary amidst the raging storm as the tears you’d been fighting to hold back stole themselves into your eyes after all, hot against your cheeks as they ran down your face and mingled with the blood still seeping from the gash on your brow.

“He won’t hurt you again.”

Before you could muster a reply, something slammed against the front door again, with such force that the hinges gave a low groan, making you jump apart, wide gazes meeting.

In wordless understanding, the two of you jumped to grab the makeshift weapons you’d spread out on the kitchen table.

Two spears, hunting knifes strapped to sticks.

And two shields, long nails driven through the metal of trashcan lids.

They’d have to make do.

Spear at the ready, your fingers clammy as they wrapped around the handle of the trashcan-lid-shield and the last remnants of dizziness not yet having receded from your senses, you positioned yourself beside Eddie in the middle of the Munson trailer’s living room, right underneath the gate, your back pressed flush against his as you listened to the noise of the bats trying to claw their way into the trailer.

And if those serrated claws could cut through bone…

Eddie’s skin was warm against your own as he angled his hand holding the makeshift spear, his pinkie linking with yours in a silent gesture of reassurance.

“It won’t hold forever, will it?”, you breathed.

Eddie swallowed. “No. It won’t.”

You nodded, panic threatening to sweep you away all over again.

“But it doesn’t have to,” Eddie added. You couldn’t tell whether he believed the words. “Only until they burned him to a crisp.”

“Yeah.”

And as if on cue, the ear-shattering noise…

Stopped.

As if the swarm had frozen mid-movement.

In the silence which settled over the trailer, you could hear the roar of blood in your ears, the thundering of your heartbeat as it mingled with the sound of your and Eddie’s ragged breaths in the air as you listened.

Waited.

And in the silence, there was a soft flutter, travelling up the walls. Travelling up towards…

“The roof,” Eddie whispered, and you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. His head was raised, umber eyes scanning the ceiling, a single beam of light from the gate falling across his face to illuminate his profile. “They’re on the roof.”

There was another horrid realization dawning on you.

Whereas the Demodogs had hunted like…well, like animals, in a way…

The bats seemed to have a level of understanding which decidedly exceeded the wit of the Demodogs.

A scraping sound made your head snap up to a spot in the kitchen ceiling.

To the air vent above the stove.

“They can’t get in there,” you breathed. “That’s not possible.”

But even while you spoke the words…you knew it was.

The vent’s seal was pushed away from the outside, clattering to the kitchen floor with a noise that rang like the crack of a whip in the shaken silence of the Munson’s trailer.

Before you could react, tear yourself out of your panicked daze, Eddie did.

A feral roar spilled from him as he darted towards the kitchen, the first of the bats already clawing their way through the air vent – but before they could get through, Eddie slammed the spiked trashcan-lid-shield over the opening, hard enough for it to hold, sealing the vent.

With a shaken little grin, Eddie turned back to you, brushing a stray curl away from his lips. “There. Fixed it.”

“There are no other vents, are there?”, you breathed, and Eddie’s face fell the second realization hit you like a truck.

There were.

In Eddie’s bedroom.

The thought passing between the two of you, you both whirled around to dart towards Eddie’s bedroom, a weird, screeching sound ringing through the air like nails drawn across a chalkboard, as if something big from outside were tearing at the metal plates barring the windows.

The second the two of you burst through the doorway to Eddie’s bedroom, glass shattered, and the bedroom window burst into a million glittering pieces raining through the air as something big sailed through, landing on the carpet in the middle of the room.

It had ripped the metal away which had barred the window.

And as if time had frozen alongside you, Eddie and you watched in quiet horror how the thing cowering on the carpet raised its head.

It was Jason.

He looked like something which had already died and clawed its way from its grave.

Blood was spilling from a gash in his temple where Eddie’s guitar had broken the skin on impact when Eddie had knocked him off of you, and cuts were marring his face, tiny shards of broken window glass sticking out from the side of his face, his neck, like thorns from the skin of a monster.

And where his eyes should have been, bloodshot and burning with hatred…were two black holes, weeping blood.

The bats had taken his eyes.

“Please -” It was barely more than a whisper, a strangled sob, spilling from Jason’s lips.

Then, everything happened at once.

As Eddie pushed you behind him to shield you, the swarm broke through the shattered bedroom window like a deadly tsunami of fangs and talons, sweeping over Jason to drown him within. His strangled outcry was cut off amidst the pandemonium as Eddie pushed you backwards through the door, out of the bedroom, the first of the bats already flitting through the door, followed by a second one, before Eddie could slam it shut.

In the tiny hallway, there was no room to wield the spears, Eddie already trying to pull you back and place himself between you and the attacking bats as you raised your shield, readying yourself for the fight –

But the attack never came.

Just like with Andy Warren outside, the bats sailed past you, the tips of their wings brushing your cheeks like a soft caress as they pounced on Eddie, faces opening up to bare rows and rows of needle-sharp fangs, Eddie’s own shield gone, stuck to the kitchen ceiling to block the path through the air vent.

With a howl of fury, you slammed your own shield into the bats to knock them off of Eddie, your spear clattering to the ground as your other hand reached to grab one of them by the tail, ripping it away from Eddie who lashed at the second creature with his own spear, the blade driving clean through the thing’s wing to pin it against the wall as the nails of your spiked shield impaled the second one.

In perfect synchrony, you both darted towards the metal plates stored in the kitchen should any of the barriers around the trailer break so you could fix it from within, Eddie grabbing one of the corrugated sheets while you grabbed the nail gun, and the bedroom door was barred anew in a matter of seconds, just in time before the old wood could give in and tear from its hinges.

There was no time to assess your handywork, though.

“GUYS!”, Dustin’s shout from the Rightside Up rang through the gate, barely audible over the havoc the rest of the swarm was wreaking on the bedroom door.

“WE’RE BUSY!”, you shouted back as Eddie and you retreated towards the gate, remaining weapons raised – his spear and your shield, readying for the storm to come, terror gripping your senses and adrenaline flooding your veins.

Your sudden scream rang through the air as pain, searing, white-hot pain shot through your skull like a lightning bolt, your shield clattering to the ground as your hands flew up to press against the sides of your head because you feared the bone might shatter like Eddie’s bedroom window if you didn’t.

Pictures flooded your mind, images of Nancy and Robin and Steve, tied to the walls by tar-black creepers wrapping around their limbs, their throats, like mice in the hold of constrictor snakes, throttling them as they struggled against their force, bound and helpless.

Memories. No, not memories.

It was happening.

Right now.

Your name rang through the air on Eddie’s desperate shout, and the pictures stopped, Eddie’s face coming into focus as he knelt in front of you on the ground, his hands folded over yours.

“We’re losing,” you whispered.

“What? What are you-”

“He’ll kill them,” you sobbed, “He’ll kill them all.”

“No,” Eddie breathed, “No, listen – he’s –“

“I SAW IT!”, you cried. “I – images from the hivemind. He’s killing them right now.”

“Monster slayer, listen to me –“

Scrambling back to your feet, “I need to help them.”

“Wait a second –“

“There is no second, Eddie!”

“LISTEN TO ME, GODDAMNIT!”, Eddie shouted, his hands settling on your shoulders with a gentleness so opposed to his raised voice, his eyes pleading as they locked on yours. “Sweetheart, please, think. He shows you what he wants you to see. That’s what he does! He’s a master-manipulator –“

“She’s right.”

Dustin’s voice, trembling with panic as it floated through the gate, made your heads snap up towards him, standing beneath the gate on the Rightside Up, his walkie in his hand.

“Erica called. Things escalated. There – Chance and a few of Jason’s friends attacked them. At Creel House. They’re gone now, but…they broke the Walkman.”

Max’s only chance to get out of the trance.

Your eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“It’s real,” you whispered. “I can go out there.”

“The bats –“

“They won’t hurt me. They didn’t attack. I don’t know why but they stayed away from me when they attacked Andy, and they stayed away right now when they attacked you. You saw it yourself. It’s…it’s like they don’t even see me. They won’t hurt me. It’s…it’s logical, I’m carrying a part of their hive. They think I’m with them.”

You bent down, grabbing the remaining spiked shield from the floor. “I need to save them.”

“I know”, Eddie breathed, voice shattering as tears streamed down his face. You barely heard the words over the noise of the swarm still trying to get through the bedroom door. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. No, you need to stay here. With Dustin. Go through the gate. Go to Fred’s gate. I’ll meet you there. We’ll all meet you there. Okay?”

“But –“

“Eddie,” you pleaded. “Please. Please, listen to me. Go through the gate. Promise me you’ll go through the gate. Promise me you’ll get Dustin and run.”

There was a split second of hesitation, Eddie’s eyes scanning yours, before his hand came up to cradle your cheek and his lips crashed on yours in a final, desperate kiss filled with all the things there was no time left to say.

I love you. Promise this is not good-bye. Promise you’ll come back to me.

Your fingertips brushed over your green silk ribbon tied around Eddie’s wrist. Your lucky charm.

Pulling away from the kiss, you gently placed the spiked makeshift-shield in Eddie’s uninjured hand.

He wasn’t one for spears or swords.

He’d always been someone who protected instead of attacked.

You hoped he’d realized it made him as heroic and brave as a person could ever be.

“See you on the other side, monster slayer”, Eddie breathed.

And with a last glance at Eddie, his beautiful umber eyes shining with terror as he watched you go, you turned and raced out of the trailer.

***

Seconds bled into minutes.

One minute into two, into three.

The blood still gushing from the cut in Eddie’s hand was starting to soak through the gauze you’d wrapped around his palm, staining the bedsheets tied together to the makeshift rope as his fist tightened around the fabric, his uninjured hand clamped around the trashcan-shield’s handle.

There was the noise of the bats trying to get through the barred door of his bedroom, of Dustin frantically calling for Lucas and Erica on his RT, the silence on the other side, all of it blurring into white noise as Eddie’s mind was reeling.

There was something wrong.

Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, gnawing at the back of his mind.

A thought lost in the fog of adrenaline and terror about everything that had happened, the horrors of Andy and Jason’s gory demise, and above all, the terror of knowing you were in danger.

While he was staying behind.

Again.

Not quite running again, but not fighting, either, no matter how hard he’d already fought, how he’d proven that maybe he wasn’t that guy anymore who ran as soon as danger arose.

But helpless, because he couldn’t be with you.

Because you were right; the bats didn’t touch you and if he’d went with you, the monsters would have killed him in a matter of minutes, shredded him to ribbons like they’d done with Andy and Jason.

It still broke Eddie to know you were facing this final battle on your own.

***

You wouldn’t have had to worry about the bats entering the trailer as you left, you realized as you slipped through the door.

Most of the swarm were still in Eddie’s bedroom, trying to get to the gate in the living room.

Trying to get to Eddie who, by now, would have made true of his promise and climbed through the gate, back to Dustin and the safety of the Rightside Up and on his way to the designated meeting point at Fred’s gate you’d all agreed upon.

Out of the danger zone.

And the rest of the bats which were clawing at the trailer’s walls, the roof, the fencing you left behind as you sprinted down the path to the road leading past the trailer park…they’d noticed you, but didn’t react.

As if you were one of them.

The part you’d stolen from Vecna protected you, once again helping to save those you loved.

Amidst the panic, there was gratitude for that darkness.

You weren’t alone.

Your breath forming little clouds in the toxic, freezing air of the Upside Down, legs burning and lungs on fire while your head felt as if it were being split apart by a drill from within, you raced into the woods lining the street.

Fog was crawling over the dead leaves on the ground, crawling up the naked trees like Vecna’s creeping vines as it grew thicker with every second, your panting filling the eerie silence of this place.

Frozen in time, like Sleeping Beauty’s cursed kingdom.

Your body was screaming in pain, but you were propelled forwards by the image of Robin, Nancy and Steve tied up, choking beneath the force of the black vines pinning them to the walls of Creel House, a horrid mirror image of Vecna’s lair, the lost, broken souls pinned to their pillars like dead butterflies, the colors gone from their once vibrant wings, muted and dull and stripped of everything they’d once been.

Eddie was safe for now, and so was Dustin.

And you begged all the higher powers that might listen to let your legs carry you fast enough to save Max and the rest of your friends.

This time as the pictures forced their way into your mind, making your body go numb as if you’d been plunged into a freezing lake, it knocked you off your feet.

The floor tilted as you tumbled into the dead grass, the blinding headache making you hiss in pain as it felt like your skull was split open so the images could pounce on your mind like the bats on the Munson trailer.

Of Max, suspended in the air like a fragile little puppet on its strings, her hair the color of flames in the dim blue light of the camping lantern barely able to keep the darkness in the attic of Creel House at bay.

Her eyes were white, rolled back in her head, lips parted with a muted scream.

And her bones…her bones started snapping.

Her fingers. One by one.

Her left arm, the sound resounding through your skull, like the sound of twigs being snapped in two. Then the right one.

Her legs.

You’d seen what had happened to poor Patrick, had seen Chrissy’s broken body.

But Max, who’d endured so much, the fierce girl with fire in her hair and fire in her heart, brave in the face of danger, who’d outrun the monster already…

It couldn’t be happening. It was a trick. Vecna was in your mind, tricking you once again, another trance to stop you because if the bats knew you’d left the trailer, so did he, of course he did.

Blood started running down her cheeks in crimson rivulets, so bright against her pale, freckled face.

As vibrant and bright as the life fading from her.

You could feel it, draining away like water down a tub.

No, not draining away…

Sucked out of her.

No. No, this isn’t real, not real, not real –

Before you could scream her name, the vision stopped and you rolled onto your back, ringing for air.

[FIFTEEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie knew something bad had happened. He felt it in every fiber of his being, as the noise of the bats wreaking havoc on the blocked door to his bedroom, the walls and roof…stopped.

The pandemonium of wings beating against the outside of the trailer, of blood-curdling screams and hissing filling the air and of talons scratching and tearing at the metal plates reinforcing the tailer’s outside…it all stopped.

Deadly silence fell over the place, broken only by Eddie’s labored breaths, the wild thumping of his heart against his broken ribs.

The bats…the bats were leaving.

And the feeling which had been gnawing at the back of Eddie’s mind hit him like a speeding truck.

Realization, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.

You’d connected the dots – but you’d all connected them so horribly, horribly wrong.

The bats hadn’t attacked you, yes. But not because they’d recognized the part of Vecna’s powers you’d stolen, marking you as part of the hive.

No.

It had been a trap all along.

To lure you to Creel House, to his lair, trying to save your friends.

Vecna wanted to hurt you.

His monster slayer had run straight into Vecna’s waiting arms.

And his bats, those horrid creatures…they were leaving to follow.

To tear you and the rest of your friends to ribbons, just like he’d done with Andy and Jason.

But Eddie wouldn’t let them.

***

As you rolled over to scramble back to your feet, the seconds draining away like your friend’s lives in the creepers’ chokehold, Max’s life in Vecna’s, thunder rumbled through the air, louder than any storm you’d ever heard.

Only it wasn’t thunder.

The ground was moving.

And even before the ground split open, Creel House Cracking apart like the shell of an egg, you knew it hadn’t been a warning, or a threat.

What Vecna had shown you had been real.

You were too late.

And Max, clever, fierce, sarcastic Max who never let anything get her down, who never hesitated to fight tooth and claw for those she loved…

Max was dead.

[TEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT.]

In Little River, Louisiana, there sometimes had been hurricanes.

They’d went on for days, and when they’d moved on, there had of the Little River trailer park.

It had happened twice, as far as Eddie could remember.

He also remembered that feeling, when the noise of the wind and rain against the sides of the community shelter they’d had to seek refuge in had stopped, and they’d all stepped outside and the air had felt…calm. Clean and peaceful, in that odd way it did after a storm.

Eddie felt like that right now, with all of the panic which had dazed his mind only moments before just fading away, making room for a strange serenity.

“EDDIE WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”, Dustin shouted through the gate, and Eddie’s eyes flitted up to meet the boy’s blue ones, wide with panic, his cheeks wet with tears.

They stared at each other. Rightside Up and Upside Down, frozen in their place for a single shared heartbeat like two ships passing in the night.

Eddie knew he would never reach Creel House in time in to help you fend off the bats, and even if he did – those things couldn’t be fought. There were too many of them.

Except…he didn’t have to.

Because Vecna wanted him. He wanted to kill Eddie to hurt you – and if Vecna was as petty as Eddie hoped he was…revenge would be the first box to tick off his to-do list.

All Eddie had to do was cause some havoc. Lure the bats away from you and your friends and back to him.

And run.

Because every second he’d manage to run to divert the bats and Vecna was time for you and the rest of the party to escape, to potentially kill the monster.

And if there was one thing he could do better even than play the guitar, Eddie figured, it was running.

Maybe this was why he’d been running all his life.

Running away from everything, not knowing that he was running to you.

Running away all his goddamn life so in the end, he would be able to run now and buy you more time.

“EDDIE COME ON!”

“Go to Fred’s gate.”

“What?!”

There was no time.

Eddie bent down to grab the makeshift spear discarded on the ground, his heart racing with the knowledge of what he was about to do.

“EDDIE!”, Dustin screamed as Eddie raised the spear.

The blade caught the crimson glow of the gate as it whirred through the air.

“EDDIE, NO!”

The makeshift rope fluttered to the ground on both sides of the gate, the bridge between worlds severed. Eddie could only hope it was enough to keep Dustin out of the Upside Down.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

What Eddie had always done from the moment he’d met you in the woods, what he’d wanted to do from the second he’d ripped Jason away from you.

“Keeping her safe,” Eddie replied softly, his eyes meeting Dustin’s. “Go to Fred’s gate. Wait for the others. I’ll meet you there.”

They both knew it was a lie.

“No. No, you promised her you’d go through the gate.”

“Yeah, I did.”

It was funny, how history repeated itself in the smallest ways.

Only days ago, Eddie had watched Nancy jump into Lover’s Lake after Steve, her bravery bordering on recklessness.

As unambiguous a sign of true love as those cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’d always understood why Nancy had done it. He’d known that he’d have done the same for you. No hesitation.

Eddie would have dived right into that cold, dark lake for the sliver of a chance to save you.

And that’s what he was doing now.

His eyes fell on the green silk ribbon you’d tied around his wrist only hours ago in the calm before the storm. It felt like an entire fucking lifetime ago.

He’d been so certain he’d never break a promise he made for you.

Eddie gave Dustin a sad little smile.

Goodbye, Dustin Henderson. Look after those lost little sheepies for me, ‘kay?

Eddie didn’t need to say the words.

He knew Dustin, the boy who, at some point along the way, had stopped being a friend to become a little brother to Eddie, understood.

And with the spear and shield in his hands, Eddie raced out of the trailer.

Onto the battlefield.

***

Max is dead.

Before you could react, let the realization settle in, you felt it.

Pain.

Not yours but Vecna’s.

***

The Warlock guitar lay broken on the ground, two parts dangling from the strings.

But Eddie didn’t need a guitar to divert the bats.

There were a million other ways to draw them in – make Vecna sic them upon him.

With a howl of rage, Eddie drove the tip of the spear down, into one of the black creepers running through this eerie realm like blood vessels, covering the dead grass at his feet.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU WANTED, RIGHT?! I’M RIGHT HERE!”

The thing hissed, an eerie sound amidst the quietness, as Eddie pierced the spear through the slick black thing for a second time, the bats nowhere to be seen in the skies.

“I’M HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” His voice echoed across the trailer park’s mirror image as he kept attacking the creepers on the ground. “I’M HERE YOU FUCKER! COME AND GET ME! YOU WANT ME, DON’T YA?! I’M –“

The words were cut off as something wrapped around Eddie’s ankles.

And pulled.

The impact as he slammed into the ground momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs, pain bolting through his cracked ribs as he struggled to get back on his feet, realizing that he couldn’t.

The creepers.

The creepers on the ground had grabbed his ankles, chaining him to the ground.

Eddie lashed at them with the blade of his spear, cutting and slashing while they slithered up his legs, faster and faster, panic rising in his chest – as his eyes locked on the tree line right across the street, the wood surrounding the Forest Hills trailer park.

The naked trees looked…wrong.

Movement travelled through them, all along the edge of the woods.

The horrid realization had hit Eddie that it had been a trap.

The bats weren’t in the sky.

And they’d never left.

They’d hidden in the trees at the edge of the woods, waiting for him to take the bait in his blind, all-consuming fear for you.

A thousand eyeless faces swiveled in his direction as the swarm broke away from the trees.

Panic was clawing its way up his chest as Eddie frantically hacked away at the creepers pinning him to the ground, hard enough for the strings tying the knife to the staff to come loose.

There was no time. He grabbed the knife, the gash on his palm ripping open again, blood pooling through the already soaked gauze and running down his hand in wet rivulets as Eddie drove the knife into the writhing black substance of the creepers again and again, hacking them away piece by piece, too slow.

They fell away, their hissing sounds swallowed by the cacophony of the swarm of bats soaring across the street and towards him.

A tidal wave of wings, of talons and teeth.

Before Eddie could scramble back to his feet, it reached him.

And swallowed him whole.

***

Images were pelting on your mind in rapid-fire frequency.

Robin and Steve, throwing Molotov cocktails.

Nancy, cocking her shotgun as the stench of burning, rotten flesh filled the air, Vecna’s roars of pain.

And then, you felt them.

Hundreds, thousands of…of beings, neurons in a network.

Wasps in a hive.

A thousand consciousnesses becoming one.

The swarm of bats.

Having bided their time.

Waiting, hiding in the trees.

And then, they weren’t hiding anymore.

They were attacking.

Eddie had been right.

It had been a trap.

And you’d both fallen for it.

“I’ll take your songbird. I’ll break him, bone by bone. And when I’m done, I’ll shatter his mind the way you shattered his heart, little thief. And maybe then…I’ll put him out of his misery.”

That was why the bats hadn’t attacked you.

Because their master had held them back.

And once again, you’d been stupid enough to fall for his tricks.

No. No, no, no –

With Eddie’s name ripping from you in a broken, desperate scream, you raced down the hill.

Into the woods.

Towards the trailer park.

But even then, you knew you were too late.

***

They were upon him.

A maelstrom, trapping him in their midst, a pandemonium of wings slapping his face, talons reaching for him, as, with a scream of fury and despair, Eddie grabbed the shield from the ground, slamming it into the nearest of those creatures in an attempt to keep them away, keep them at bay.

But there was no way he could.

There were thousands of them.

Their movement made the world around him tilt with vertigo as he leashed out with the knife, the tails of one of those creatures already wrapping around his wrist mid-movement to restrain him, and Eddie screamed as they ripped him to the ground, the bones in his wrist crushed beneath the creatures tail as more of them pounced down.

Tails wrapped around his other wrist, his ankles, pinning him to the cold ground, writhing and struggling and helpless as pain took over and his vision blurred with his tears.

And then, the rest of the swarm hailed down on him.

[MIDNIGHT.]

The scene unfolding in front of you when you broke out of the woods, Eddie’s name carried through the air on your broken scream, was one you’d seen before.

So many times. Night after sweat-drenched, tear-soaked night.

In your nightmares, though, Eddie had screamed. Battle cries fusing into dying ones.

Nothing like the horrible silence pressing in from all sides as you raced across the road, down the gravel to the Munson trailer.

They made room for you, the sea of wings and teeth and talons parting for you.

Of course they did.

That’s what Vecna had always promised you.

To take Eddie. Making him pay for what you’d stolen, knowing that nothing would ever be able to break you like losing Eddie could.

It was only logical to grant you the front seat as he did it.

“EDDIE!” The scream shattered as you let yourself fall to the ground beside him, the last of the bats letting go of him and darting into the air before you could rip them away, your knees hitting the dead grass, wet with rain –

No, not rain.

There was no rain in the Upside Down.

It was blood, Eddie’s blood, soaking the dead grass. Soaking his Hellfire shirt, blossoms of red unfurling on the white fabric where the combat vest was glaring open because you’d ripped away the zipper only moments before everything had went to hell.

The bats had fallen silent, locking you in this moment as they drew their circles in the air around the two of you, keeping you at the eye of the storm.

The sound of your name leaving Eddie’s lips was the ghost of a whisper as his umber eyes found yours.

“Eddie. It’s – it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Your hands pressed over the wounds on his chest in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding, stop the flow of blood that was pooling beneath your palms, running through your fingers, warm and bright, the life draining out of him too fast. “We’ll get you out of here, okay? You need to hold on, Eddie. You gotta hold on because we can get you out of here, patch you up like – like at Skull Rock, okay? We’ll –“ Your words were cut off with the sobs you were trying so hard to suppress for his sake.

“Gonna need…a lot of fish hooks,” Eddie pressed, his voice so weak, but his lips curved into the ghost of one of his radiant sunshine-smiles like always when he tried to make you laugh, set you at ease.

No fish hook in the world could mend those wounds.

You both knew it.

You both knew this was the end.

With a sob ripping from you, you shuffled closer, gently cradling the back of his head as your other hand brushed away a few stray curls from where they’d stuck to the blood seeping from the bite wound on his cheek.

Eddie’s eyes, those beautiful umber eyes, were glittering with the tears spilling down his face, mirroring the ones you so desperately tried to hold back for his sake.

“’M sorry,” Eddie breathed. His voice was frail, crumbling away beneath the agony of his wounds, “’m sorry I broke my promise. I thought –“

“I know,” you breathed, softly shushing him. “I know. It’s okay, Eddie. It’s fine.”

Nothing would ever be okay again.

You gently reached out with your free hand, catching the tears that were running down Eddie’s face, the pad of your thumb caressing his cheek as, his eyes firmly locked on yours instead of the swarm swirling around you in the air, Eddie whispered, “Did we win?”

No. No, you didn’t.

Max was dead.

And you could feel Vecna’s presence even now, a dark shadow eclipsing everything in this realm. His wrath, the pain of whatever wounds Nancy and the others had managed to inflict on him, yet not enough to kill.

“Yes,” you breathed, forcing a smile on your lips to carry the lie, “Yes, we did. We won. Nancy landed the Crit Hit. They’re all okay.”

The smile of relief on Eddie’s lips broke you into a thousand pieces, before it turned sad. So deeply sad. “’M sorry I’m not gonna be there to take you to prom.”

“Eddie –“, you sobbed.

“Promise me…promise me you’ll graduate,” Eddie breathed. “Promise me you’ll…go to the beach. Live your life, ‘kay? Be happy.”

You would never be again.

Not without him. Not without Eddie, because Eddie was your happiness. He was your sun to light the day and the moon to illuminate the night and the stars to guide you through the dark.

And all of this light…it was dying. Fading away.

When it was left, there would only be darkness left.

An eternal void, right inside of your chest.

“You need…you need to promise me, monster slayer,” Eddie choked, his eyes pleading as he forced out the words. You could see how much it pained him to speak.

“Eddie –“

“Promise you’ll be happy again. Promise you’ll never lose that…that beautiful laugh of yours, ‘kay?”

There were no words. You couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, your world ending yet the one you were in kept spinning as you forced yourself to nod, forced the tears away because if they started falling, they’d blur your vision and you couldn’t let that happen because you wanted to see Eddie, wanted to see the radiance of the soft smile he gave you despite the agony he must have been in; wanted to see the light in his beautiful umber eyes before it would forever be snuffed out.

“I need…to hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you choked out. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Because you wouldn’t lose your laugh.

Eddie would take it with him wherever he was going now, into the place where you couldn’t follow no matter how much you wished you could.

The lyrics of Max’s song came to your mind.

If I only could make a deal with god, and get him to swap our places…

You would. Without a second of hesitation.

But there was no god in this realm filled with horrors.

Only Vecna.

And Vecna didn’t make deals.

He only took.

“I love you-hoo, monster slayer,” Eddie whispered, blinking against his tears. “It’s always been you.”

The words faded into the air, barely more than a susurration. Soft like a spring breeze.

And the light, this radiant light in Eddie’s beautiful umber eyes, all the sparks and life which had been there, so vibrant…it was snuffed out.

Just like that.

You wanted to catch it like fireflies in the summer night’s air, trap it in a glass and put it back into Eddie’s eyes.

But you couldn’t bring it back.

There was no power in the world that could.

What stayed behind was the tenderness with which Eddie had always gazed at you, the ghost of his soft sunshine-smiles on his lips as if even his final breaths, so happy that you were with him, joy had won over the agony of his wounds, the terror of death.

But Eddie…Eddie was gone.

Vecna had made true of his promise.

He’d taken the most precious thing away from you after all.

He’d taken away your songbird.

He’d taken Eddie from you.

The scream which had been locked within your chest ripped free.

Of agony and loss and rage, clawing at you, ripping out of you from deep within, from the spot where you could feel something break.

Shatter.

Irreversibly, into so many pieces, that you would never be able to mend them, breaking and breaking until they were too small to break any further.

Like sand was made.

Maybe your heart would turn into a beach, to contain the ocean of darkness which spread through you, numbing your body as you keeled over, your face pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his soft curls tickling your cheeks. The warmth had not yet started to fade from his skin, his scent of soap and chocolate and the faint traces of cigarettes still clinging to him beneath the metallic tang of blood.

“I love you, too,” you choked out, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck, the angry red marks the tails of the bats had left there, before you placed the softest of kisses on his lips. “I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

You curled up on the hard ground, Eddie’s blood on the grass as cold now as the rest of this dark realm, and rested your head on his chest, above the spot where his heart had fluttered so beautifully against your palm only hours before.

Your favorite tune in the world, silenced forever.

You stayed like this. Curled up against Eddie’s side, your head resting on his chest, sobs ripping through you as the bats kept drawing their circles around the two of you, the flutter of their wings filling the air with soft rustles as the spores drifted all around you like fresh snow, settling in Eddie’s curls, in your lashes, on your cheeks.

You waited for them to cover you whole.

Find their way into your lungs and suffocate you like this grief was, this all-consuming grief tearing you apart.

To make it all stop.

To let you follow to wherever Eddie had gone.

***

Death, stories had taught Eddie, was supposed to be gentle.

It was supposed to be a warm, dark current to immerse him, make the agony of his wounds stop – but how could it ever be gentle and peaceful knowing that he’d leave his monster slayer behind in this horrible, freezing dark realm? How could it be peaceful when Eddie knew the girl he loved more even than he loved music and stories would stay behind, after going through so much already, left alone to weep over his body in this horrible place full of monsters?

I’m sorry. Eddie’s fingers found your green ribbon tied around his wrist; the silk soft beneath his fingertips. It was still there.

I will always, always come back to you, monster slayer. I promise.

The second promise he’d broken.

I’m so sorry, sweetheart.

When Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, there was only darkness. All around him.

The kind of darkness that was eternal, stretching on and on and on.

A void.

And Eddie was…afloat?

No, not afloat.

There was water, covering the ground all around him, but it didn’t soak him. He didn’t feel it.

He didn’t feel anything.

The agony of his wounds was gone – and so were the wounds, he realized as his hands shot out to his face, his chest.

“What the –“

The whisper travelled through the air, filling the silence of this place, mingling with the soft sloshing sound of the water beneath him as he rolled to his side, hackles raising.

There was something else there. In the darkness with him.

He could feel it, a looming presence.

Watching him.

He climbed back to his feet, the water at his feet gurgling happily, its echo floating through the eerie silence of this void.

And when Eddie turned around…

Something had changed.

There was a table, amidst the darkness, its legs sinking into the water.

A single, large table, like those in the Hawkins High cafeteria.

And on the table…

“What the fuck,” Eddie whispered, grasping one of the little figurines placed on the tabletop to examine it – just as a movement made his head snap up and his attention zone in on the figure at the head of the table, rising from a lonely chair, behind a black-and-silver dungeon master’s screen positioned there.

Eddie’s dungeon master screen, he realized, the doodle of the skull with the flash of lightning and the bat wings staring back at him from where he’d taped it to the plastic years ago. It had been the first draft of the Hellfire Club logo.

And the face surfacing from behind the screen, the lonely figure rising from the throne at the table’s head…

It was a little boy.

Seven, maybe eight years old, with the most unsettling eyes Eddie had ever seen.

The vibrant blue of blooming forget-me-nots dotting the sides of hiking trails in the woods around Lover’s Lake come summer.

A dark premonition or an educated guess, but…Eddie knew who the little boy was.

“Hello, Edward.”

Eddie flinched at the sound of that name, placing the little figurine of the Mind Flayer back on the table in front of him, watching the boy tilt his head with a quirk of his lips, the ghost of a devious smirk that was so weirdly out of place on the child’s serene little face.

The boy’s arm shot out as he tossed something, and Eddie caught it mid-air, something small and hard. Like a pebble stone.

When he opened his palm to assess what it was he’d just caught, Eddie’s eyes widened.

Resting in his palm was a crimson D&D dice.

“Will you play a game with me, Eddie?”, Henry Creel asked.

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

------

I SWEAR ON DUSTIN’S MOTHER THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING NEXT CHAPTER! Thank you so much for reading, for commenting and reblogging and sending all the lovely asks about this series. Thank you for sticking with me for fourteen chapters - here’s to the final one yet to come; I hope to have it ready for the weekend. Love ya 🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #joe quinn

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exquisiteserotonin · 8 months

Text

Precious Possessions, Chapter 2

It's Wednesday and Dave's ready to get a little more dirty. So I bring to you Chapter 2 of my Dave York Fic.

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Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Pairing: Dave York X F!Reader

Rating & Warnings: Explicit (18+, MDNI!), Slow burn, sexual tension, dirty, smutty talk, masturbation, finger fucking, public sex (sort of?), Not beta'd --- any weird grammar things and tense shifts are on me.

A/N: Also thank you to my slut collective who always throw out inspiration on the daily. I love you witches. @sparklefarts38 @legendary-pink-dot @best-little-secret @basicoccult

Chapter 2: Starving

The next day of the conference wore on you like a trek through a theme park on a hot summer day. You typically loved conferences, treating them as a mini vacation that happened to include mandatory workshops and trainings. Learning and absorbing brand-new information was inspiring and invigorating. Yet each new presentation you attended that day seemed to grow unbearably long. A nervous energy emanated from your body, manifesting in you through repeatedly crossing and uncrossing your legs, wiggling and bouncing your foot, and tapping your pen repeatedly on your notepad.

A frustrated heat welled up in you as you realized your thoughts were turning to Dave. The space he was taking up in your brain was unexpected. Your watch and the slow hands of the analog clocks found in each meeting room reminded you of how far away you were from 7:30 in the evening.

When lunch time arrived everyone buzzed around you with an excited energy relieved to have a break. You grabbed a plate of salad from the complimentary lunch served to the conference attendees and searched for the quietest corner to enjoy your meal. To your disappointment, your coworker Brad found you. His plate and silverware clanked as he set it down in front of you.

“How has your day been?” he asked, his teeth almost blinding you with how white they were.

“I don’t know,” you answered between bites of your salad. “All the sessions just seem to be running together.”

“It’s only day two and you’re already experiencing conference fatigue?” He joked with little success, eliciting a polite smile from you.

“It must be that time of month,” you shrugged, finishing your salad quickly. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to grab an aspirin from my room.”

Brad raised his hands, backing up slightly in his chair, squirming with discomfort. As you suspected, this made him uncomfortable enough for you to make your exit. The way the temples of your head began to throb revealed that your escape was only a half lie. You excused yourself and darted towards the elevator. Other hotel guests filed in behind you, checking in with their heavy, space-taking luggage. You backed yourself into a corner and closed your eyes, placing your fingers lightly at your temples. You shifted sideways as more people flooded in, leaving little room between yourself and the next person.

“You OK, firefly?” The gravelly whisper of a familiar voice reached your ears.

You looked up to see Dave standing before you, dangerously close.

“Dave, hey,” you greeted, relieved to see him. “It’s just a headache.”

“You know, I have something for that,” he said and you felt him shift his weight until you felt his hip press against yours.

The throbbing of your headache dulled and you fought with yourself to hide the moan you so desperately wanted to release from your mouth. A tingling sensation tip-toed down your shoulders, stomach, and irresistibly, inconveniently down to your core. As you held each other’s gaze, you felt his smug smile drawing you in and tempting you.

“You know what?” The satisfaction you got from challenging him was unmatched and you smiled back. “I think I can take care of it for the time being.”

Feeling brazen and empowered, you brushed your fingertips along the side of his left pant leg, until your hand began to take hold of his hip. He knitted his brows down to glare at you, his hand meeting yours quickly to grip your wrist with one of his large, weathered hands. The way he stared you down, gripped your wrist, and shook his head indicating no without a word electrified you even more. It shot through your body from the tips of his fingers, its electricity awakening every cell in you and your heart thumping loudly in your ears.

The elevator rocked back and forth as it moved upwards. Engrossed in each other, you barely noticed or acknowledged as the other guests left the elevator. You backed away from him a few steps, his fingers rippling open to release you from his grip. In only a matter of seconds, you knew you’d be arriving on your floor.

“We’re still having that meeting at 7:30, correct?” He asked as he cleared his throat and as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Still on,” you confirmed as you felt the warmth of his body heat overtake you as he stepped closer behind you.

“Then you should save your energy,” Dave said, leaning his head close to yours, his breath caressing your ear.

His hand gently brushed the back of your skirt, the back of his fingers just brushing your ass. The faintness of his touch was enough to leave you nearly breathless and yearning for more of it, so much that you hitched your breath with a quick gasp.

“Noted,” you breathed, looking up at him with a nod of your head before you stepped away.

Despite the slight dulling of your headache, you still gulped an aspirin upon returning to your hotel room. You lowered yourself to the fluffy sheets of your hotel room bed. Noting the time on the clock: 12:35 pm. It reminded you how quickly you had gulfed down your lunch just to get away from Brad. You closed your eyes, promising yourself it would only be for a moment. The ghost of Dave’s soft whisper against your ear haunting you. The power of your mind helped you to imagine his whisper as fingers traveling down your blouse to your skirt. An achy longing began to beat at your core as you thought of him. You began to slide your hand down the length of your skirt and gathered it in your hand, pulling it upwards. You drew your fingers up your thighs, walking them closer and closer to your underwear. All the while, you imagined his hand, his weathered fingers as your breath quickened. You pushed your panties to the side, sliding your fingers to your clit, feeling how your folds were coated with your slick because of him. Because of Dave.

You squeezed your eyes shut, keeping the image of him in your brain. The memory of how his massive hand gripped your wrist, his fingers large and commanding. You let yourself imagine his hands touching you, dipping inside you, fucking you, and savoring the taste of you on his fingers while he chanted your name as he worked on you, beckoning you to come. Your orgasm crashed over your body, setting you on fire and wrapping you in warmth. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting your breath come down to a natural pace as you relaxed from your wave of pleasure.

You stood up, pushing down your skirt. You met your reflection in the large, gold framed mirror. Your hair was disheveled and a rosy glow painted your cheeks. You gave yourself a quiet laugh, thinking wistfully of the solo activity Dave York had just inspired. Your fingers caressed the soft, silky fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles as best you could. You took one last glance at your watch, realizing you had just enough time to make it downstairs for the rest of the day's presentations. You left your room letting the door close gently behind you, hoping the pace of the afternoon moved faster than the morning. Begrudgingly, you knew the specter of Dave’s touch and breathy whisper would haunt you for the remainder of the day.

✦✦✦

Somehow, you managed to survive the day without driving yourself crazy about what awaited you at 7:30 pm. Every inclination you had was to wear the sexiest outfit you owned, but that was impossible since it was hanging in your closet at home. The only option you had was a tawny colored, form fitting sweater dress you packed. You pulled it on over your head, shimmying the fabric down your body. Its luxurious fabric hugged your curves perfectly and despite it having long sleeves it clung to your cleavage, enhancing it in the most enticing way.

You looked at yourself in the full-length mirror, satisfied and confident in your look. Your long waves fell like a waterfall down your back, your shortest waves kissing your clavicle. Your make-up was simple and served to enhance your favorite features. You stepped into a pair of cream colored booties with a little bit of a heel, knowing it would bring attention to the little peek of leg that would reveal itself through the knee slit on the right side of your dress. You bit your lip, your reflection staring back at you with a mischievous understanding of why you brought this outfit to a professional conference.

This is the kind of outfit that would get you fucked.

You carried that thought with you from your room to the elevator, and downstairs towards the bar. Head turns that turned into intense gazes in your direction gifted you with even more poise and tenacity as each step you took brought you closer and closer to the bar. Your eyes skimmed the bar, searching for Dave. Taking a seat at the bar, a little fleck of disappointment turned in you when you were unable to find him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked.

“Scotch please,” you replied, “on the rocks.”

The bartender nodded and walked away to get a few more orders before bringing you your own. A sudden burst of self-consciousness washed over you as you waited for your drink. Upon the bartender’s return, he handed you your drink along with a knowing wink and a small slip of paper. The edges were clean and folded sharply, evidence of the meticulousness of the messenger. You laughed at yourself as you opened it wondering why you hadn’t exchanged numbers with Dave. Your professional mind took over and deduced that he simply didn’t want to be tracked. You talked yourself into thinking that this made sense for someone in the intelligence field. You took a long, large sip of courage from your glass before opening the note. Small, slanted print greeted you as you did:

I’m at the far corner to the right of the bar.

You found him with your whole body, your eyes settling over him in the dark, isolated corner. Your eyes poured over every feature of him from his clean shaven face, to his Romanesque nose, to his intensely dark brown eyes which were staring right back at you. You walked towards him, unhurried, carrying your scotch in one hand and your handbag in the other. You approached the quiet and secluded booth for two. He never lost eye contact as he stood up to greet you, taking your scotch from your hand, sipping the remainder of it, before setting it down on the table. The coldest of shivers traveled through your body as he pulled you towards him with a gentle beckoning of his hand on your elbow. The shivers left you frozen as he brought his face close to yours, kissing you lightly on the cheek until you felt his lips brush against your ear.

“Look at you,” he growled as you closed your eyes, feeling his hand roam to your right hip, where his fingers traced the curve of it with the lightest of touches, “getting pretty just for me.”

You parted your peachy-pink lips to respond, but for the first time in your interactions with him you found yourself speechless. The feeling was so novel as though you were being hypnotized to succumb to his words and motions.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he stated, drawing you in with his wickedly attractive grin that had imprinted itself in your brain. “There’s a place I’m going to take you, somewhere more private.”

Dave was the kind of man people would warn you about. Your closest friends would tell you that he was a walking red flag if they knew. Any level-headed woman would and should know better. And then you thought to yourself:

Maybe I just don’t care.

You trembled with a charged excitement moving through you and arousing every cell in your body. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a demand. It was a simple and true statement. Both of you knew it. You would do anything he asked.

“Ok,” you confirmed your gaze connecting indelibly to his, “take me.”

A rush of cold air bombarded you as you stepped out of the hotel. You cursed yourself, wondering why you hadn’t grabbed a coat from your room. Dave perused you up and down, admiring your figure before he took off his own thick coat and draped it around your shoulders. The unexpected, but calculated gesture made you shiver more at his touch than from the cold. After this he moved past you toward a black sedan, opening the door for you.

Your dress stretched against your legs, giving Dave the perfect view of your right leg from the slit on the side of your dress. He followed you, joining you in the warmth of the car. Not a second had passed since you buckled yourself in and you immediately felt his immense hand slide onto your knee with a tight grip. With no knowledge of how long it would take to arrive wherever Dave was taking you, you placed your hand on top of his and began to slide his hand further up your leg.

“You dirty, little slut,” he whispered to you with a growl, “are you gonna show me how wet you already are for me?”

“Dave,” you panted into his ear as you felt his fingers massage up your thigh, “the driver…”

From the side of your eye, you swore you could see the driver smirk when you whispered Dave’s name. Your breaths continued to quicken as his hand continued to rub up your thigh.

“Don’t worry I pay him for discretion,” he uttered, and you could have moaned at the thought that this was all a well-executed plan. “Just give daddy one little taste.”

You squeezed your thighs together before opening them again. His thick fingers rested on the lush skin of your inner thighs. His half-closed, ravenous eyes asked you again.

Just one taste.

And so, you opened for him feeling his fingers brush against the silky fabric of your underwear. You kept your eyes on him as his fingers met where the fabric had become dewy with your desire. You rolled your pelvis forward, eager, and desperate for him to do something. He raised one coy brow at you, caressing you and making the spot grow with your heat. That dangerous dimple revealed itself as he tempted you with a wanton grin. You needed more. You needed him to give you more. As soon as you moved your hand to grip his forearm, the car came to a quiet stop. You shuddered as he took his hand away from your thigh. You followed his every move as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking his fingertips. A little taste of you.

“You taste sweet,” Dave growled, the vibrato making you quiver all the way down to your toes, “can’t wait to taste all of you.”

Dave opened the door and reached his hand in to help you out. Once you were out of the car you used one hand to smooth out the bottom of your dress and the other to grip Dave’s jacket around your shoulders. The strong grip of his hands on your hips as he rocked his pelvis into your ass was so surprising that it made you gasp louder than the cold air meeting your bare skin.

“Fuck, Dave,” you whispered, “are you trying to kill me?”

“Hm,” he paused in contemplation, “not if I don’t have to.”

The two of you stood before a quaint little whiskey bar repurposed from an old Craftsman home. Globe lights danced on strings in the December air as you walked up the brick stairs. Inside, perfectly placed lights of amber and gold set the room aglow with warm luminescence and shadows. He had made a reservation. You shivered as he took his coat from your shoulders handing it to the hostess. How was he able to have this so elaborately planned? The feeling settled in your abdomen simultaneously vexing and intriguing.

You followed the hostess to a quiet u-shaped booth situated at the back of the bar. Atop a round table made from knotted driftwood, stood a table sign with the word “reserved” written in modern calligraphy. You had barely taken your seat when a server came to your table with a bottle of Macallan rare cask and two empty whiskey glasses.

“Wow, pulling out all the stops,” you said, mesmerized by the expensive whiskey selection that was poured into your glass right before your eyes. “You do this before you bed all your conquests?”

He grasped his chest with a feigned expression of heartbreak, “Oh if that’s all you were, I wouldn’t have wasted my time bringing you here knowing I could’ve had you begging me to come to your room the afternoon we met.”

“And if I had wanted you there that night,” you stalled, gently biting your glossy lips, “we wouldn’t have left my room at all today.”

“And that, firefly,” he said with a tip of his glass towards yours, “is exactly why you’re more than just a conquest.”

It felt like a date but you didn’t want it to. The mess of feelings running inside you could have been easily curbed if you had just fucked him. You’d done it before, you could do it again. Fuck and forget.

“How did you get into intelligence, anyway?” He asked, relinquishing a deep sigh from you. “Because and, forgive me, you don’t seem the type.”

“Meaning?” You furrowed your brow at the statement.

“Well, you’re hot for one thing,” he stated, provoking a laugh, “but you don’t bullshit; you’re sharp, calculating, even.”

You took a sip to ponder your response to his question.

“Well I was always good at everything computers,” you explained, “building them, taking them apart, and figuring out how they worked.”

It felt so easy to be telling him your story. His eyes were rapt with attention

“In high school I got good at hacking,” this reveal had him move in closer to you, “even better at getting away with it.”

It felt like you were being asked to access a file that was stored away in your backup hard drives. You never expected anyone to want to hear about your angsty, adolescent techno rebellion.

“You know, it started small at first: messing with the school online newsletter, changing my friends’ grades,” you smiled as the sweet nostalgia took over you. “My best work though was getting a pervy teacher fired who’d made rapey comments to me and my friends.”

“A vindictive streak,” he said admiringly as his hand took purchase on your knee.

A jolt of excitement shot through you as he said those words, in the way he said them. Did he get off on that? Revenge. It wasn’t the best of your personality traits.

A slow sip of the Macallan.

“Karma’s a bitch,” you said dryly with a shrug.

An impressed grin.

“My parents said I needed to channel my talent into something productive and lucrative,” you shrugged, “so here I am.”

“Here you are,” he was so close you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.

It took only one look of his pouted lips for you to dive forward to kiss him. His tongue pushing your mouth open while his right hand pushed your hair back from your face. You gripped that hand leading it to the base of your neck. You pressed your hand on top of his, desperate to feel his strength imprint itself on you. The needy groan that escaped him as you did had you snickering with consuming gratification. Falling into each other with breathless desire, you let his mouth go but not before pulling his bottom lip with an eager bite.

“Bad girl,” he groaned, as he tugged you almost impossibly close to him, the heat that rose from both of you intertwining. “You get off on it don’t you? On not getting caught?”

Your heart hammered loudly in your ears as Dave’s hand glided up the slit of your dress. His fingers made quick work of finding the spot he had made wet in the car. Your cunt ached and drummed with anticipation for his touch. You swallowed a deep breath when you felt his thick fingers sweep over the fabric, teasing you as he used his finger tips to play at the edges. You nodded at him, with pleading eyes.

“Let’s see how much you get off on it,” he growled his head pressed to yours as he slipped his fingers under the velvety soft fabric of your underwear.

Your thoughts began to swirl in the rich amber of whiskey in your glass as his fingers rubbed at your entrance. You rolled your neck with a deep exhale before placing a secure hold on your glass with your left hand. The wave of exquisite sensation washed over you as you felt his finger glide inside you, finding your clit in a matter of seconds. You brought your glass to your lips, taking in a long sip of whiskey to obscure the moan that threatened to escape from your mouth. The slow burn of the whiskey paired with the sinuous ecstasy that formed from his was almost too much to bear. You could do nothing but roll your hips forward begging for more of his fingers with your body.

“Firefly, you dirty, fucking slut,” he whispered to you through gritted teeth, “you fucking love this, don’t you?”

Your hands gripped at the fabric of the bench beneath you, your brain barely registering what he had just said. All you could concentrate on was your desperate attempt to slow your ever-quickening breaths.

“Answer me,” he demanded in the quietest whisper while tortuously denying you the attention his fingers were giving your clit.

“Yes--I, I love it,” you whimpered

Your body ignited with a luxurious heat at each touch of his fingers at your core. You felt yourself surrendering to him as he continued the deep ministrations within your body, worshiping your clit.

“You fucking love that you’re about to come right here in public,” he growled his nose pressed to the side of your face, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “I was a fucking stranger to you yesterday and now you love how I already know how to make you come undone. You’ve never felt this good before have you?”

Jesus, fuck. You thought to yourself as you nodded. True. It was all true.

He rocked his pelvis towards you, his fingers moving relentlessly. “Fucking answer me, firefly.”

“I’ve never felt this good, Dave,” you wanted to cry.

“Good,” he said, his voice gravelly and low, “you wanna come now, baby?”

“Please.”

With another sinful grin, he crooked his fingers inside you, bracing you with the weight of his body. And you came undone, your entire body trembling and the quietest moan escaping your lips as you clenched around his fingers. You reached out for your glass to drink the last bit of whiskey. You breathed out a long, slow exhale feeling the burn and bliss of the whiskey and your orgasm.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he groaned as he released his fingers from your center.

A gasp vibrated out of your throat, and you relaxed back into him. Everything around you looked hazy with delight, like a dream sequence in a film. You watched as Dave licked his fingers, savoring the taste of you that left its mark there. You felt your pussy clench again at the eroticism of the moment, of how good he must be with his mouth and tongue, and how big his cock must be. You tip-toed your fingers to his pants, cupping his bulge, feeling it grow in the palm of your hand.

“It’s time we get out of here, firefly,” he spoke with the stoic conviction of a man ready to complete the most important mission he’s ever been given.

“What are you going to do with me?” You leaned to him, whispering your delicately chosen words into his ear.

He turned to you, his stare low and focused with lust, “I’m going to make you mine, possess this cunt in ways you’ve only dreamed of.”

You smiled with satisfaction as though you’d been waiting a lifetime for someone to growl those words at you. He stood up and your gaze poured over his entire body as he pulled out his wallet, leaving a wad of bills on the table that you assumed as far more than the cost of whiskey. He held out a hand to you and you laughed like it was a joke, knowing well you didn’t need or want the feigned gentlemanly gesture. You gathered his jacket around your shoulders again to protect yourself from the biting air. He slipped one possessive hand beneath the bottom of his jacket to grip your ass and then your waist, holding you close to him the entire, short ride back to the hotel.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal characters #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york #dave york smut #dave york x f!reader #surburban murder daddy #juice bar collective #juice collective

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cloverdaisies · 9 months

Note

hi.. please could you do a juyeon angst with the song nearly witches by panic at the disco i love your writing by the way, thanks

sending all my love ;)

🧸 - anon

NEARLY WITCHES ☆ L.JY

a lee juyeon angst ! only read if you would like to shed a tear or two ! f! reader !

# GHJH 🧸 anon you little gem, thank you so much! i love this song a lot as well i couldn’t believe my fkn eyes when i saw the request ! how do you know i liked p!atd ?? WHO ARE U ?? YOU ACC KNOW ME but sorry for the long wait! here it is <3 THE SENDING ALL MY LOVE?? MY SIGN OFF?! reveal yourself at once ?? who are you >:(

Ever since you’d met, he’d only shoot up with your perfume, it was the only thing that made him feel as good as you do. The sweet scent of vanilla, pine, sandal wood surfaced every sweet memory. The exact way the little things in life would bring the biggest smile to your face, holding hands walking through a local park lit up in a pinky-tangerine blend from the sunset. Watching as you giggled when a small butterfly landed on the tip of your little nose lightly blowing it off with loving laughter. Or how you'd huff and puff in little fits of cute frustration when things didn't go your way, because there sure was one thing, you never admitted when you were wrong.

After what seemed like heaven, a relationship gifted to you by god's most important angels, things soon turned into glamorous hell. You two fought over trivial things like money, who is cheating on who, where the fuck had he put your car keys. Arguments soon outweighed the bliss, going to sleep on separate sides of the bed and failing to whisper goodnight to each other. The little actions, that made you leave him, forever.

A small envelope had been shoved through the metal slot of what used to be both Juyeon’s and yours home, but now it was just him the entire place was desolate. Like Jay Gatsby, the grand walls of his home were built entirely for you, his Daisy. Without you, between the polished spruce walls of your victorian style home, it was completely empty, eeringly quiet. He never let a spot of dust touch your paintings, inspecting them everyday knowing how hard you’d worked on him. The hole in his heart couldn’t bare to remove them, it was the only thing you’d left, along with a small bottle of your perfume which he sprayed when he felt he was the most lonely. The pain he felt without you, was unbearable, everyday he perfected his appearance hoping one day you’d show up at the door and return to his arms - but after 5 years, he decided there was no hope.

Juyeon reached to pick up the letter, immediately recognizing the handwriting on the front and scrambling to tear the envelope.

DEAR JUYEON LEE

you have been cordially invited to a night service to celebrate the wedding of:

(your name) & partner

at: oak tree hall, west avenue

date/time: Wednesday 17th January, 7:00pm

RSVP: 000-000-000

Immediately, he felt his heart shatter like fine glass, falling to his knees, with tears threatening to spill from his familiar cat-like brown eyes. Crumpling the page into a tight ball before booting it across the halls, landing with a light thump on the preserved wooden flooring.

You’d found someone knew, even worse, you’d been planning to marry someone that wasn’t him. He’d tried to do the same, but every woman that lied in his satin sheets were gone the next day because they could never compare to what you were, an angel sent especially for him - you were perfection in its finest form, everything he ever wanted and he still couldn’t give in after all these years. He only had one regret, and that was you. The love he felt for you, he would never feel again.

For days, Juyeon moped in your memories, finding a small scrapbook of yours that he’d kept neat ever since you’d left. With messy black hair laid between the pillows of the bed that once belonged to both of you, he flicked every page of photos that captured your happiest memories. With a bitter sigh, he reached to his night stand to grab that small bottle of perfume you’d left, which he used so sparingly to prolong its life. However, as he held the bottle up in front of his face and whined to himself when he saw that there was no more than a small drop left in the bottom of the glass container.

4:00pm, the miniature grandfather clock on his bedside chimed, it was Wednesday 17th January, while Juyeon refused to accept the invite you’d sent him, thinking it was above unordinary that you’d dare invite your ex to a wedding with your new partner, he was still in cahoots with his conscience on showing up.

He’d waited years to see you, despite the setting, it was his only chance to see you after all this time and perhaps maybe there was just one chance he could win you back, however he knew that was impossible, this was you showing him that you’d moved on, this was your spiteful move after all this time, the pain he caused you, you were giving back after years and yes it hurt him - like a shit load of bricks collapsing on him all at once, that was your intention, despite the fact you didn’t know that all he wanted was you, he waited all this time.

Juyeon couldn’t pass up on the chance to see you, for the first time in 5 years, probably the last time he’d see you in many to come. So he rose from the cream satin sheets of his grand bed and waltzed to the bathroom with a glint of ambition in his once dull eyes.

Showering, shaving the stubble he’d grown after days of not looking after himself so much since he knew you wouldn’t be visiting anytime soon. He neatly organized every strand of his hair to perfection before sighing and observing himself in mirror. A gorgeous man, he was, however over the years he was seeing that less and less, feeling more lonely and unwanted everyday which made him lose any sense of esteem he had left.

Juyeon had collected a huge wardrobe of clothes for himself, filled with neat shirts which the maid had ironed every day by his request, along with dresses for you which he’d bought in your size to surprise you with when you returned. Browsing each suit he owned, navy, maroon, pin stripe, grey, he eventually settled on a neat black suit he’d bought in case he ever had to attend something like a wedding - never guessing it would be yours. It had double rows of buttons and was paired with a long sleek black tie, the color complimented his every feature.

And by the time, he’d decided with himself it was around 6:20pm, he went to collect the chauffeur from his quarters and was met with a high look of confusion from the man when Juyeon had mentioned he needed to attend a wedding.

“Who’s wedding are you attending sir?” The chauffeur noisily asked from the front seat of the car, the sound of rain pattering on the metal roof drowning out his gruff voice.

“It will be (your name) and her new fella of sorts.” Juyeon attempted to separate his emotions from his speech, using a calm tone in order to avoid spitting the words from his lips.

“I’m so sorry sir, I thought one day she would return to you, not dare meet somebody new.” He replied with a saddened tone in his voice, attempting not to sound like he was sucking up to his employer in any way.

“Yeah, well I guess it’s life, people move on.” Juyeon grumbled closing off the conversation as they arrived outside Oak Tree Hall, the place you’d always decided you would be getting married. An old but grand building decorated in marble, surrounded by foliage and every kind of flower the earth has to gift.

Exiting the car and telling the chauffeur to come back at a certain time, Juyeon took a sharp breath of hesitance before taking another step towards the building. Guests spilling into the building from the ceremony which he wasn’t invited to, the chaos of jazz music sounding from every window that had been pushed out ever so slightly.

The bar was a disaster, with men and women queued chaotically trying to purchase an ounce of liquor. The dancefloor already full with people jovially swinging to the tunes in the background. To Juyeon, it was a huge mess and could never imagine this is what his own wedding would be like, he knew deep down that you probably thought that too. You were a character of elegance and class not whatever this disaster in front of him was.

He looked around for you, scanning the crowd with hopeful eyes until he saw the beautiful satin white gown fit for the most gorgeous bride trailing across the ground. You too were looking around over the crowd, as if you were trying to spot someone, he noticed how gorgeous your every feature still was, unchanged, his heart felt as if it was putting itself back together until he met your gaze. Your eyes landed on him, you couldn’t believe he was there, how badly you wanted him there, yet you thought he wouldn’t show. He looked the same, unchanged, he was gorgeous, his every feature still perfect. You wished you could run to him, you wished you could escape what you’d fallen into but you were frozen in time.

“My parents are over there darling, shall we go see them?” Your newly wed, pulled at your arm it wasn’t a question it was a demand and you were ripped from the gaze of your past lover.

Juyeon sighed to himself, however this seemed to bring him some clarity, you had moved on, now he can too, there was no way he would be getting you back and that was how he saw the close of your relationship together.

He sat down at one of the tables, where his allocated seat seemed to be, retrieving a glass of red from one of the servers waltzing the room.

He watched you greet each table, anticipating your arrival at his own, eventually you would be walking over slightly not managing in the little heels you’d worn. You smiled politely at him when you caught his eyes, he smiled back with no concern as the groom looked him up and down with slight jealousy in his eyes.

“Who’s this?”Your new partner asked, pointing towards Juyeon with a stern voice, noticeably irritated by his well kept demeanor and good looking features.

“This is Juyeon, an old school friend of mine!” You lied, Juyeon didn’t react physically but was confused with the false introduction, yet he went along with it nodding to your words.

“Congratulations.” Juyeon smiled, shaking his hand firmly, seemingly shutting the mouth of your partner with a polite yet passively aggressive interaction.

“Thank you.” Your partner smiled, looking behind him slightly to roll his eyes before snapping back to the conversation.

“Mày I have this dance?” Juyeon asked bravely as the song changed to a slower ballroom song, looking at your new husband for approval before he nodded and Juyeon took your hand.

His hand cupping yours, set sparks flying through your every vessel and his too, the shear feeling of his warm skin refreshed every memory. His scent was masculine, the same aftershave he’d always used overwhelming your every sense. You’d also always worn the same perfume, Juyeon being able to take in the scent as he closed into your neck, clasping one of your hands with his and placing another hand on your waist.

“Hello there, liar.” Juyeon spoke first, causing you to chuckle slightly as he’d always maintained the same humor over the years.

“I had to lie, if he knew I invited my ex he’d kill me.” You replied, with a sad laugh looking up at his concerned expression.

“He doesn’t need sorting out does he? He’s not hurting my sweetness is he?” He asked snidely, almost hissing out the words, the terms of endearment flipping your guts upside down in excitement.

“N-no, nothing like that he’s just a bit of a control freak. I love him though, it’s tolerable.” You replied, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance, unable to look at him as you think you may pass out if you did, due to his beautiful face and nature.

"That's not something you want to be saying about someone you've just married." He laughed, sending joy to your heart with the shear sound of voice.

"I guess not, is it?" You replied sarcastically, still not being able to look him in the eyes, as you swayed on the dancefloor.

As the both of you moved across the dancefloor, it was evident the song was coming to a close. It’s been years since you’ve felt the comfort of him, years since you’d felt this way. Finding the strength to look him in the eyes and almost melt into his touch. It was magical, the way he held you, the way he looked at you as if you were the only woman in the world.

"I've waited years for you." Juyeon replied shortly before going to speak again. " So if you change your mind you know where I am. Goodbye my sweetness."

With one last squeeze of your waist he let you go on the last string of the song, stunned for words, you wished you could run after him and kiss him until time ended, but your new husband had already whisked you away. Pulled away from what you didn't know you'd always wanted. You’d made a huge mistake, and as you watched Juyeon leave the room you couldn’t help but feel your heart break. Years were wasted with a man that could never make you feel the way he did, an unforgivable amount of time had passed and it was your fault. You’d put him through so much pain you wished you could take back, but you were trapped, it was too late.

It was too late for you both, hands in his pockets he walked out into the night, maybe one day you’d return, a singular tear fell from his eye. It was time to move on.

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captain-lessship · 1 year

Text

Creepy Pt. 5

You yawned as you rolled over, eyes barely open when you noticed it: a hand.

“What the fu- Oh. Hello, Thing.”

You had met Thing a few days earlier when Wednesday asked if you could fix his favorite nail polish bottle that he couldn’t get the brush out of.

The hand signed an apology, before pushing a small note to you.

“It’s alright and thank you. Also, did you do something new with your cuticles?”

Thing signed a ‘Yes, thank you for noticing’ before dropping off your pillow.

“Oh, let me get that for you.”

You hopped up and opened the door for him, “Tell Wednesday I hope she enjoys Out Reach Day and that hopefully we get put together, if you could?”

Thing gave a thumbs up and tapped and tipped down the hall. You walked to the note, stretching as you went to pick up the note and read it.

You grinned as you read it, you took it with you as you got your uniform, which was slightly wrinkled. Ironing wasn’t your strong suit.

As you got dressed, you thought about the note. All it asked was to be listening for any information about the case but how she opened it was odd: It had a tone of endearment. Finally, after brushing your teeth and hair, you were completely ready.

You found Wednesday and Enid in the courtyard, you smiled as you walked up to them.

“What do you think your jobs will be?” You asked.

Wednesday looked at you, “I think this is rather stupid that we are expected to work for free.”

Enid sighed, “it’s called volunteering.”

“Not when you’re volun-told.” Wednesday said. You laughed lightly.

Enid looked at you two, a smile growing on her face and a glimmer appearing in her eyes. She knew. You looked at Wednesday, who looked back.

Enid was suddenly jerked away by a few of her other friends. Opening a conversation between just you and Wednesday.

“I got your note from Thing this morning.” You whispered.

“I say we skip the jobs and go to the library.”

“Typically, they hand out jobs at the library and those are the first offered up as trades. That way no one would suspect a thing.”

“Very deceptive. It will be easier without interference.”

You thanked Mrs. Thornhill as she handed you your envelope. You opened yours.

“I guess I got lucky.” You showed it to her. Library.

She showed hers to you and your eyes lit up. “You got my favorite store!” You told Wednesday about it. “Honestly, I will find information and you see if anything out of place is in there. Maybe something could trigger a vision.”

Wednesday nodded, “Divide and conquer.”

Wednesday was walking with Enid when she began to think about how she said she’d never be like her mother. She felt a odd sour sense but pride could be pushed slightly down the list of her priorities if it meant that she got to be around you.

Wednesday sighed when she turned, “Enid, trade with me.”

“What? No way!”

“Ajax is working at the antique shop.”

Enid sighed, “Oh you so owe me one.” She grabbed the envelope and turned around. Off to Pilgrim World.

You walked into the library, checked in for your job and began scanning the books for anything that looked like it might help. You quickly found several old history books and you pulled them from the shelves. Walking to a quiet corner, you sat down and began reading. You grabbed out your notebook from your backpack and turned to a new page.

You had hit a interesting piece of Crackstone history. Burning witches? Could be just plain puritan bull but you had a feeling. You thought it best to take the book to Wednesday and ask her about it.

After ripping the pages from your notebook, You looked around before grabbing up the books and putting the ones you didn’t need back. You then breathed in and slowly change the now half used notebook into the book that you were essentially stealing.

You walked to the front to see the head librarian asleep. You simply walked right out the door and off you ran to Uriah’s Heap.

You flung open the door to the shop and looked for her but you saw Enid and Ajax, staring at you.

“Where’s Wednesday?”

Enid looked at Ajax, then at you. “Pilgrim World. We traded.”

You nodded, “Alright well. I guess I will be seeing you two.”

Now you had to break into the only moderately interesting thing this town had. You scanned the wall, thinking about how you could get up and in there.

You took a few steps back and took a running go at it, jumping as high as you could, your hand slapping into the wood pillar. It worked! You got the idea from remembering when you and Ajax went indoor rock climbing. You’d have to thank him again later.

You did this interchangeably as you scaled the wall. When you got to the top you saw a house that you could probably jump onto. Your ego was too inflated by your success on the wall, causing you to recklessly jump.

You missed it by two feet, landing on the ground, air getting knocked from your lungs. Your back and pride would be bruised.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend.”

You looked to your left to see a boy, outfit stained a brown color and Wednesday cleaning whatever it was off of him.

“Ticker?”

“Wednesday.” You smiled, “I brought you something. Nice outfit.”

“Hush. Is it in your backpack?”

“Yeah just give me minute to grab it. I think I slipped a disk.”

Wednesday shook her head in slight endearment, “I will get it for you.” She took your backpack from beside you and slowly helped you up. You th asked her before looking at the boy.

“Who are you?”

“Eugene.”

“Ohh. Okay, your the guy with the bees?”

“Yea!”

“Cool, um. What’s on your shirt?”

“I threw up. I ate too much fudge.”

“Three pilgrims boys tried to humiliate him. I made them change their minds.” Wednesday said, flipping through the book and scanning the note book pages. “We have a meeting house to break into.”

Wednesday, you and Eugene snuck to the closed off meeting house, went around the back to see it locked it up.

“Give me your retainer.” Wednesday said to the boy.

“Why? Your teeth are really good. Not as straight or white as Eni-“

“Now.”

The boy handed over the retainer and Wednesday picked the lock with it, then handed it back to the boy. After telling the boy to keep watch, you both went in.

You instantly got weird vibes and the smell of staleness nearly gagged you. Wednesday looked around before stopping at a painting that looked very familiar. She noticed the book and then saw it in a display case.

When she looked at it, you opened it. She grabbed the book, disappointment radiated off her when she opened it and flipped through the pages. She said something about Etsy when the door was opened.

You all were caught. Some super sleuthing on your all’s part.

With more information and the knowledge that the meeting house was not the original, Wednesday and you walked to the Weathervane for her to ask someone about it. You opened the door for her, hearing the bell chime as you two walked in. Wednesday walked to the map brochure stand and pulled one from it, looking for something when you heard a familiar voice.

“I thought you were supposed to be at Pilgrim World.”

It was Xavier, dressed in a uniform.

“I deserted it while my sanity was still intact.”

He offered her a cup, ignoring you.

“I am actually here for Tyler.”

Tyler? He sounded familiar but then again, it was a basic name.

“I told you he was bad news.”

Wednesday responded, then rang a bell. Another boy appeared, “You rang?”

Xavier scoffed and you stared at him. Wednesday asked for help, putting down the map, asking where the original meeting house is.

“There.” The boy said. You had to admit that he made you feel a touch insecure.

“Thank you for the help.” She said before turning to you, “Ticker.”

You both started walking away before he stopped you both. “The ruins are kinda tricky to find. I could take you when my shift ends at two.”

“We need to be back before two. Principal Weems would hang us by the ankles.” You said, annoyed tone coming out, causing Wednesday and Tyler to look at you.

“That sounds enticing. We need to keep a low profile. I know my way around the great outdoors.”

“Don’t tell me you were a Girl Scout?”

“I could eat Girl Scouts for breakfast. I actually have an uncle who went to prison for that.”

You walked a few steps behind her, thinking about the coffee shop guy.

“As much as I love the storm cloud demeanor, what is wrong?” She asked.

“It’s nothing.”

She stopped and looked at you. In only a few seconds, her cool eyes broke you.

“He was flirting with you. And I had a strong temptation to punch him.”

“Be more creative and don’t worry, I have no interest in him in any fashion. He is simply a Jericho encyclopedia. “

You sighed, “I know. I am sorry.”

“There is no need for an apology. I think it would been a rather interesting sight to see you lunge at a barista.”

You smiled, “Crack his coffee pot.” You joked mainly to yourself. You saw a small, so small upturn of the corner of her lips.

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wastemanjohn · 3 months

Note

y'know I thought I was all done but I got one more thing to add to my earlier (lengthy -- sorry!) response to the wincest wednesday askbox scattergun, and that's on the topic of familial lexicon:

mundane headcanons, I hear you say? how about this one that is gospel in my heart: there are dozens, if not HUNDREDS, of songs that sam hears in his brother's voice before anybody else's.

there's songs for bathtime and bedtime, songs to make sam sit still while dean clips his sharp little fingernails, songs for when dad's been gone for so many minutes, way past the little hand on the eight and the big hand on the four. there's songs for waiting in the car while dad pumps gas or digs deep holes or lights fires that make dean go pale and a little sweaty, so his palm slides clammy-cold over sam's. there's songs for walking home from school, songs that sam gets to hear vibrating up to where he's perched on dean's shoulders, and songs whispered against his temple when sleep won't come.

(later, when he's older, there's songs for counting cadence during PT and songs for walking back to the fence to reset the pop can targets and songs for when he's fought with dad and screamed himself hoarse. there's songs for hanging out the window to the waist while dean does a conservative seventy-five of roads graded for fifty. there's songs dean sings to and for himself, but he doesn't mind if sam listens in.)

like, for sam, pete seeger didn't sing "little boxes"; dean winchester did. paul simon and art garfunkel didn't sing "cecelia"; dean winchester did. bruce springsteen didn't sing "atlantic city" and arlo guthrie didn't sing "alice's restaurant massacre" and warren zevon didn't sing "roland the headless thompson gunner" (besides, sam's pet theory is that warren's probably a hunter himself, or at least a well-informed civilian); peter schilling didn't sing "major tom" and elvis didn't sing "suspicious minds" and roy orbison didn't sing "all I have to do is dream". joan baez didn't sing "with god on our side" and tom paxton didn't sing "lyndon johnson told the nation" and hoyt acton didn't sing "greenback dollar" and fleetwood mac sure as hell didn't sing "the chain". phil ochs didn't sing "the highwayman" and john denver didn't sing "country roads" and dusty springfield didn't sing "I only want to be with you". dean winchester did; word-perfect, every time.

sam's a connoisseur of the entire dean winchester discography. no matter what anybody else (the radio included) says, sam knows how those song go.

sam knows that the song goes, "my sammy lies over the prairie, my sammy lies over the sea, my sammy lies over the prairie, so bring back my sammy to me"

sam knows that the song goes, "a-round her neck/ she wore a yellow ribbon/ she wore it in the springtime/ and in the month of may/ and if you asked/ her why the hell she wore it/ she wore it for her young marine sent far, far away"

sam knows that the song goes, "I've got some fine memories of san angelo/ and I've seen some beauty queens in el paso/ but the best lookin' women that I've ever seen/ have all been from kansas and all wearin' jeans"

sam knows that the song goes, "we've hauled some barges in our day/ filled with lumber, coal, and hay/ and we know every inch of the way/ from albany to far below"

sam knows that the song goes, "my father was hung as a horse thief/ my mother was burned as a witch/ my seventeen sisters, they run the whorehouse/ and I'm a cocksucking son of a bitch"

sam knows that the song goes, "oh, my darling/ oh, my darling/ oh, my darling clementine/ you are lost and gone forever/ dreadful sorry, clementine"

sam knows that the song goes, "so take my tip before you ship to join the iron gang/ don't be too gay in botany bay, or else you'll surely hang/ "or else you'll surely hang," says he, and after that, jim jones/ way up upon the gallows tree, the crows will pick your bones"

sam know that the song goes, "bye, baby bunting, daddy's gone a-hunting, gone to fetch a gator skin, to wrap his baby bunting in"

(sam's twenty-three and newly dead so he doesn't know the next time a song from dean's back catalogue gets sung in a whisper against the thin skin of his temple, hair pushed back behind his ear so maybe he'll hear: bring back, bring back, oh, bring back my sammy to me, to me; bring back, bring back, oh bring back my baby to me)

!!!! SCREAM! ANON YOU ARE FUCKING *COOKING* this is so beautiful 😭😭😭😭 gosh. I'm screaming. EVERYONE READ WHAT ANON SAID PLEASE BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS REARRANGED BY THIS

#😭😭😭#THE LAST PARAGRAPH #SCREAMING #samdean #wincest Wednesday

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themaarika · 6 months

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🌈 Hi read my webcomic Sunny and Rainy!

Sunny and Rainy is about sapphic witches, Halloween and learning college-level witchcraft. Features cute slice of life stories with LGBTQ+ characters, cats and magical succulents.

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#sunny and rainy #webcomic #comics #witches #halloween #original post

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safarigirlsp · 1 year

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The Beast

Vampire Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: None! Shocking! Some light horror and sexy themes.

AO3 Link

For Halloween, please enjoy this wicked fairytale for Transfusion Tuesday and also writer wednesday based a request from this Edgar Allen Poe prompt list. Notes of Beauty and the Beast, Dracula, and The Raven in my best Poe-ish attempt 🍂🍁🍂

This also continues my Wicked Fairytale Series where I give my own twisted twist to the classics, like Cinderella , A Midsummer Night’s Dream and A Christmas Carol.

For as long as anyone could remember, the castle had loomed from its cliffside perch above the sleepy little town far below. Like a raven, always watching, always waiting, for its prey to wander close enough to be ensnared in its shadows that stretched forth like grasping talons when twilight grew dim. Every night, when the mists swirled like waltzing specters and the chill settled like death’s hand upon the stricken, mothers would tell their children the tale of the Beast that had always lived in the castle.

With windows like nefarious eyes, peaked rooftops like arched eyebrows, spires rising like devilish horns into the sky, and the spiked iron teeth of the courtyard gates, the castle was a being itself. A monstrosity more imposing than any gargoyle watching over a churchyard. If the Beast didn’t ravage any hapless passersby, the castle itself looked eager to devour them whole.

For as long as fairytales had roots, the quiet little village had by horror been haunted. The frigid darkness that swirled through the streets like a wayward horseman’s spirit, lost and forsaken, was as warm as the kiss of a summer breeze compared to the icy black terror the Beast wrought upon those foolish enough to venture forth in the witching hour.

Far wiser than their human masters, animals would never dare encroach upon the accursed castle. Venture too far into the castle woods and horses would buck and bolt and hounds would whine and turn tail. Deer and fox and cheerfully colored songbirds knew they were unwelcome inside the black woods, among the dead trees with branches like demons’ claws, twisting up from Hell. Only the other creatures of darkness and malice, wolves and ravens, kept company with the Beast in his woods and his lair of stone. Man alone, with his mind for reason and penchant for fumbling upon the worst conclusion, hazarded to trespass upon the castle and meet his death at the gruesome hands of the Beast within.

Or so it had always been said. For no man who had made the perilous journey into the darkness of the castle’s shadow had ever returned.

From the topmost window in the highest tower, the Beast watched the foolish mortals go about their trivial fleeting lives below him, nothing more than ants crawling before a god. The Beast watched with loathing untold and seething unmeasured at the trivial humans who lived their fleeting lives with a carefree happiness he would never know. A silent snarl curled his lips at the sight and his tongue would absently trace over the tips of his fangs, thinking, as he often did, of the sweet taste of blood when they tore through frail flesh.

The tower spire was a freedom for the Beast, a reminder of the benefit of the bargain he had made centuries before. A deal sealed in those ages deemed dark -- dark and befitting of the curse that had stricken the Beast. Down leagues of staircases that seemed to spiral down to the bowels of the underworld, past long hallways winding lonely through bleak walls and past portraits of the long-dead and forgotten, deep in the cold earthen sepulcher in the castle dungeons lay an ancient coffin, undisturbed but never at rest. Inscribed upon the coffin and tarnished by the passage of centuries was its intended occupant’s name and title. Sir Kylo Ren.

Far longer ago than anyone in the inconsequential little town remembered, a knight protected the land and the woods and the cliffs. The Black Knight built a castle on the highest mountain, a fortress of stone to keep the woman he loved safe within its walls. The Black Knight was as beloved by his vassals as he was feared by his enemies, for he protected his own with a fist gloved in steel armor as black as his rage. But memories are as short as the frivolous lives of the townspeople and now no one remembered the Black Knight and his valor. But all the townspeople remember the creature he became. The Beast.

Not even the mighty power of the Black Knight, his strength beyond all other men, could save his woman when the plague settled its pox over the land. She was swept away from him on a green tide of pestilence to a place he could never follow, for surely a man as fearsome as himself could never trail an angel’s wings through Heaven’s Gates. The winter that blew in after her death never again lifted from the knight’s castle grounds nor the gloom from his heart.

Offering solace to the distraught shell of a man the Black Knight had become, a witch emerged from the shadows. Never before nor since was the treacherous creature seen, save only that one harsh winter night when Sir Kylo Ren had naught for company but his thoughts that churned blacker than cauldron pitch and more poisonous than Cleopatra’s adder. Like a raft to a drowning man, the witch offered the Black Knight that which he wanted most in the Hell his world had become. To know happiness again. To feel warmth and pleasure. For his true love to be returned to him.

A deal was struck, unholy and perfidious, back in that forgotten age of knights and witchcraft. The bargain was not to be for the Black Knight, for bargains offer a benefit. It was a trick as vile and malicious as the fumes of the underworld. Wearing the tempting veil of a bargain, it was a curse wrought upon the Black Knight. And from the curse, from the coffin of the noble knight, a creature of the night emerged. More monstrous than a vampire, Sir Kylo Ren was transformed into an unholy beast.

A curse lifted by a lover’s kiss or a moment of understanding was too simple, for love can bloom in an instant in the darkest hours of the night and flutter away with the rising sun. Sir Kylo knew well how to elicit lust and desire, how to arouse the flames of passion and ecstasy that would quickly flare into a wildfire of love. The Beast’s curse could only be undone by the rarest of women; the woman who could look upon him, see the ferocious beast he was, and show no fear. It was one thing to love a monster, as some women did with their own vile husbands, but yet another to show no fear in the face of monstrosity. The boldest knights looked upon the Beast with fear hammering in their chest so fast that Sir Kylo could dance to the beat. What woman could show bravery and valor where even the finest knights could not? None who had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Beast in the long centuries since the curse was levied upon him.

A curse that only affected the accursed was too benevolent, for there must be consequences to those who would be so tenacious as to attempt to cure the Beast. The witch was cunning and her curse had teeth as sharp as the wolves of the forest. Sir Kylo would not have been known for centuries as the Beast without good cause, without earning that loathsome moniker. Fear was his most morbid aphrodisiac, the spiced scent of terror sent the Beast into a frothing bloodlust. And what remained of the man Kylo had been was lost in the turbulence of mayhem and drowned in the blood that flowed in torrents when the beast was summoned forth to bring the wrath of Hell down upon the fearful and unworthy.

Gentle and loving women, wanton and deceptive women, those pure of heart and those of unadulterated sinfulness alike, all met with equal savagery when their fear bloomed beneath their skin, coursed through their veins like the finest wine. At the faintest hint of fear, the Beast consumed what remained of the man and tore the women apart with razored fangs and supernatural strength. The body of a healthy young woman contains scantly little blood, barely enough for an aperitif, and would only whet the Beast’s appetite. Those were the nights, those nights the Beast hoped beyond hope that he had finally found a woman with the heart of a lion, when blood covered the streets of the town the next day and loved ones tried to piece missing relatives together from the limbs that had been torn off and scattered away from their bodies.

When the Beast tasted the blood of the fearful, he raged. Until the Eastern sky glowed as red as the blood on his lips, threatening him with the dreadful sunrise, he raged. And so, the Beast cloistered himself inside his castle, imprisoned himself in a fortress of his own doing. Venturing no longer from the walls of his castle and the prison of his curse, Sir Kylo waited for a death that would never come. Or so he tried. Some nights the hunger, the longing, to be free of his curse was stronger than his will.

On those nights, he would let others bleed for him. On those nights, he would watch the life drain away from a frightened woman as she found the sweet embrace of death for which he so longed. On those nights, he knew that his soul had deserted him some forgotten time centuries ago, and the terrible parts of him that remained would never again be lifted from darkness.

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For as long as you could remember, you had heard the legend of the Beast that lurked inside the castle on the cliffs. Fairytales for children, you reasoned every time you rode through the forest while the black bramble clawed at you as if to keep you trapped inside forever. Sometimes, it felt as though something more watched you than the vacant lonesome windows. But the windows were always black as arched abysses, no candle ever flickered inside the castle, no sound ever echoed through its cavernous halls. No living soul could endure in that perpetual darkness, as bleak as the harshest winter chill, devoid of light and cheer. No Beast lurked in the castle. Ghosts perhaps, lonely specters of those long-dead, but nothing with a heart that still beats.

For as long as you could remember, you had believed that.

The woods were gloaming, desolate, and dense, as you rode home from far away. Nevermore, your horse and most trusted friend, was as black as a raven in a midnight graveyard. Boldy, you rode him through the woods into which no man would venture during the hours no good woman should be awake. Howls from wolves and hoots from owls kept you company along with the nervous snorts of your horse, but there was no faster way home. There may have been tales of terror about the Beast, but even the most skittish person knew that wolves would never attack a mounted rider. Not even in the cursed depths of the black forest.

Spires, silhouetted against the stars and blacker than the midnight sky, captivated your attention when it should have been elsewhere. The frightened whiny and startled rearing of your horse altered you to the danger you had ridden into. A pack of yellow eyes and white teeth leered at you from the trees on all sides, and excited yips and growls greeted you as the wolves moved in for their kill. Nevermore bolted, you didn’t try to slow him. You could stay with your horse through rearing and bucking and running at breakneck speed through the roughest terrain. But even you were no match for the tree branch as thick as your waist that knocked you out of the saddle as your horse ran under it.

Breath refused to refill your lungs when you hit the cold hard ground. The world spun and bells tolled in your ears as you watched Nevermore gallop away, his black coat vanishing into the black woods like ink into oil. You felt the pack lunge for you even before you heard the rush of bodies running at you on padded feet, and you grabbed for the knife in your boot. Its blade would be little defense against an entire pack of wolves, but it was only your breath that had left you, not your fighting spirit.

Even as you drew your blade, a shadow blacker than the foulest witch descended upon you. Like a widow’s veil, the black cloak of your savior floated over you as the towering man who wore it charged between you and the ravening wolves. Growling more savagely than the animals, the man clad all in black hunched his broad shoulders as the wolves attacked. Faster than your eyes could follow, almost as though his enormous physique had blurred into smoke, the man tore the wolves apart like a lion tearing through lambs. When the ground was littered with grey furry carcasses, the man rolled his shoulders before turning to you.

A black scarf covered the lower half of the man’s face and a long veil of sable hair fell in chaos around his shoulders. His eyes were just as lupine as the wolves had been, gleaming gold in the pale moonlight and fixed upon you. Sweeping his cloak aside, he offered you his massive gloved hand and pulled you gently to your feet. He snugged the scarf more securely over his prominent nose before moving close enough to you to assure that you had no grievous injuries.

“Terrors fill these woods in the dead of night,” he told you in a voice that had the power to hypnotize you if you let him. “A beautiful woman should know better than to venture out alone.”

“I’m no longer alone.” You smiled and for reasons unknown to you, the man flinched at your smile as shocked as if you had struck him across the face.

“No, and your peril is now far greater for my company.” Smoothing his hand over his hair, the man looked up at the moon and shook his head almost morosely. “You cannot travel through this forest on foot and alone at night.” He again extended his hand to you. “Join me. Be my guest for the evening, but you must leave at daybreak.”

“Where will you host me?” You looked around the desolation of the forest to make your point. “There is nothing in these woods.”

“My home, naturally.” His eyes crinkled with a smirk that was concealed by his scarf as he gestured toward the dark towers in the distance.

“Ah, so you’re the infamous Beast who lives in the castle?” you teased pleasantly, but the man did not smile. Rather, his eyes grew serious at your words.

“I am Kylo Ren.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I am the Beast.” His eyes burned into yours, the color of firelight. “And you must not fear me. Never fear me.”

“You’ll find I don’t frighten easily,” you assured him after you gave him your name, and then added playfully, “And you, Kylo Ren, are ill-suited to doing so.”

For the darkness and the scarf that veiled the lower half of his face, you couldn’t be sure, but you thought you saw him smile.

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Wrapped snuggly around his face, the scarf Kylo wore was the only preventive measure he could take to avoid the scent of delicious, maddening fear. Only that length of worn black wool stood between you and a death more vicious than that wolves would have given you, should he smell a hint of fear on your breath. Kylo’s senses were heightened. He saw in the darkness with mosaic vibrance, he heard the whispers of spiders spinning their webs high in his rafters, he could scent the sweet perfume of fresh blood on the breeze from the village miles below when an animal was butchered. The scarf did little to inhibit him but still, he smelled no fear. The scent of horse and of the ocean from which you had traveled lingered on your clothes and the clean floral scent of your hair delighted his senses while the honeyed scent of your skin filled his mind with possibility. He smelled enough to see the steps of your long journey into his forest, but he did not scent fear. And his heart jumped at that epiphany.

The darkened woods put fright into the bones of brave men, but you walked beside the Beast with confident ease. Even through the gates to his courtyard, gaping like the open mouth of leviathan with sharp iron spikes for teeth, and through his once beautiful garden that was now naught but dead bramble and roseless bushes of black thorns, you were not hampered by fear. As Kylo approached the arched double doors of his castle, they opened for their master and his guest, though no servants remained inside.

Torches in sconces and candles in gilded candelabras bloomed to life just ahead of you as you followed the towering man through his labyrinthian hallways. Your footsteps echoed off the stone floors while his remained deathly silent. Whether after centuries of living with the castle alone for company the stone had absorbed his own life force and knew his whims, or the ghosts who lingered and suffered within had deigned to do his bidding, Kylo never knew nor cared to question. The eyes of the dead watched from their portraits and tapestries. Perhaps it was not an illusion when those woven and painted eyes followed the movements of the living, curious to see the new guest their master had brought into the castle and fascinated to watch the horrific death that was surely soon to meet with the beautiful woman. Still, Kylo smelled no fear nor felt the prickle of trepidation on the air.

“You must be famished,” Kylo told you as he escorted you into a grand dining hall that erupted in golden light upon your entry. The sprawling table was long enough to host a battalion and slathered with enough food and wine to overfeed every vacant seat.

“Expecting guests?” You raised an eyebrow at the opulence before you.

“Only you,” he said as he pulled out a chair for you at one end of the table.

The aromas that filled the dining hall, scents of fresh meats and sauces, cheeses and sweets, and blood red wine, emboldened Kylo to remove his scarf as he took his seat at the opposite end of the long table. With the length of the table and the cornucopia of scents between you, he felt assured he could maintain his composure. Temporarily.

It was on instinct that he inhaled deeply, as he often did before meals. He smelled the full bouquet of you then, and it was not fear but excitement and arousal that perfumed you, so tempting as to threaten to send him into a frenzy. When you smiled beautifully at him as you sipped your wine, that boldness beguiled his grim scowl into smiling.

It was as if he had gifted you something precious with his smile, one that intuition told you had not been used in untold years. With his scarf removed, you could look upon the features of the Beast who struck fear into the hearts of men. He was dangerous, to be sure, but that quality added to his dark and devilish handsomeness. From his long glossy hair to his well-groomed Van Dyke, he was as sleek and dark as a panther. Even the harrowing scar that traced a painful pink welt down his right cheek added to his dashing. Only his smile revealed the outward indicia of his curse, the viciously pointed fangs of a vampire. One of those fangs drew over his plush lower lip as he admired your exquisite beauty and his eyes gleamed with golden light that danced with the flicker of candles.

“This is excessive.” You smiled as you speared a perfectly juicy filet with your fork and teased, “So much indulgence is practically sinful.”

“Vices are much more interesting than virtues, darling.” He inclined his head as he savored a piece of meat so rare as to be nearly bleeding raw. “Virtues bore me so.”

“Molière would agree with you,” you replied with a smirk, citing the source of his witticism.

“Smart woman.” He allowed admiration to wash over his features before quoting Moliere again, this time knowing you would catch the reference, “Beauty without intelligence is like a hook without bait.”

“So, you think you’ve caught me?” you retorted. “Lured me in with food and decadence?”

“No, lovely girl, it is you who has captured my attention and admiration.” He leaned toward you, resting his arms on the table. “I have taken your baited hook and swallowed it whole.”

“It does you a disservice that it is not part of the Beast’s legends what a seductive host he is,” you said coyly as you sipped your wine.

“Dinners and seductions often go well for myself and my guests.” Mirroring you, he took a drink of wine, leaving a berry stain on his lips. “It is what comes next that makes me a monster. It is after the seduction is over and minds are sobered when tragedy befalls my guests.”

“Do you think such a tragedy will befall me while in your care?” Your words were meant as an invitation, one he knew well.

“I will not allow it.” Kylo breathed deep, still scenting no fear in the air, only your uniquely erotic perfume. Nevertheless, he declined your offer for wont of trusting himself and a darkness passed behind his eyes. “But you must keep your distance from me. Do not let appearances deceive you or wine imbue you, I am every bit the monster of legend. I am the Beast.”

“You’ll find those bestial qualities of yours don’t frighten me.” You leaned forward, accepting his challenge. “They excite me.” You made a point of letting your eyes trail down his body, openly evaluating him. “You do not strike me as a monster, only a man who needs a woman’s touch.”

“You are tired and weary.” He pushed to his feet, dismissing you, forcing down the pained grimace that threatened to twist his lips. “I shall have a horse waiting for you in the morning. You will not see me again.”

“I cannot simply ride away on one of your horses and never see you again. That’s absurd,” you huffed, indignant from his rebuff. “I must at least return your horse and repay you.”

“Your pleasant company is compensation enough.” He raised his large hand in protest against further argument. “That a beautiful woman with wit and grace would stumble into the bleakness of my life for a night is more than I could have hoped for. You have brought an evening of sunlight to a man who has not seen such warmth in longer than I can recall.” He walked to you, tall and proud, and took your hand to lift you from your seat. “No, accept my kindness, for I am thankful for you to know only kindness from me. Remember me fondly. But never return.”

Inside his glimmering eyes, you saw restraint behind the passion, as if he were holding a part of himself prisoner. His hand was strong and warm, seeming to offer you all the safety in the world so long as you held it. Leading you from the dining room, he took you through his castle, up spirals of staircases, to show you to your room. Your bedchamber for the night was even more luxuriant than the bountiful dinner.

Longing demanded you pull him close, but you refrained. The turn to advance was now his. But he only lifted your hand and placed a kiss on it as searing as a flame and as soft as velvet. His lips were reluctant to leave your skin, so he growled against it, “It is the most valiant kindness I can give you to leave you now. Dream sweetly of me, darling. And when the sun rises, leave my castle and never return.”

Like a specter or a memory, he turned abruptly and his broad frame vanished into the shadows of his hallway. No candles or torches lit his way, the darkness his oldest companion.

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Icy spiderwebs of frost streaked across the glass of the arched windows gave the morning sunlight a crystalline brilliance when it streamed into your bedroom to wake you. The sun’s beautiful rudeness announced your stay at the Beast’s castle had ended. A fire that should have burned out during the night still roared in the fireplace and despite the cool stone walls, the room was filled with warmth. The castle and whatever spirits haunted its halls had welcomed you to stay forever, even if its Master would banish you for your own safety.

A note rested on the nightstand beside you, yellowed parchment folded and sealed with a blood red wax emblem depicting a mounted knight slaying a dragon. The letter came with the knowledge that Kylo had entered your room sometime during the night, had been close enough to touch your sleeping body when he left the letter. You wondered if he had. You hoped he had. A new breed of warmth flooded your body as you broke the letter’s seal. Penned in elegant calligraphy, Kylo spoke to you.

You have given me more than you shall ever know. The gift of your enchanting beauty, your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes. You gave me the memory of the man I once was, a taste of a life long forgotten. To ask more of you would only serve to put you in the gravest possible danger. I shall not introduce you to the Beast of legend, but content myself in knowing you met only the man. Take my gifts and my thanks, and flee from this cursed place as fast as my horse can carry you.

Your servant, Kylo.

After the third read over his letter, you were resolved. You most certainly would not grant his entreat. You were not leaving his castle.

Despite your best efforts as a huntress, you could not find Kylo upon your morning search. Although, a concerted search of the fortress and grounds would take a fortnight. The castle was vacant, but it was not empty. Filled with memories, its walls held the faded echoes of laughing happiness and enraged screams, its floors stained with tears of joy and of hardship, with the blood and sweat of the generations who had lived and died inside throughout the centuries. Wonders lurked behind every door, dusty and forlorn, but wondrous beneath the neglect. Tarnished was the former majesty that had once graced the castle, but gone it was not. It would require no more than attention and a loving hand to restore its resplendence. You suspected the same of its master.

It was the cathedral-esque library that captured your interest and held it until the sun bid you farewell and twilight painted the sky crimson. Each of the thousands of leatherbound volumes was a gateway to a new world, another adventure, a life you’ve yet to live. Easily and happily lost inside an adventure captured by ink on paper, you did not notice the passage of hours until the words you read grew dim in the gloaming. Even as you thought it, the castle’s candles and torches sparked to dancing life.

With the setting of the sun the master of the castle awakened. And you felt it. The walls creaked and the tresses groaned, sharing the Beast’s pain. A growl filled with rage and despondence boomed through the long, lonely halls so that it was adopted by the walls in its reverberations. Next were crashes, the splintering of wood, the breaking of glass, the clang of metal, as furniture was destroyed by its wrathful master like a lamb at the slaughter. The sounds of frenzy and destruction led you easily to the Beast. To the dining hall that had been so grand the evening before but was now ravaged and torn through, as though a tornado had spun itself to death inside.

Silver strewn, furniture broken, table overturned, portraits slashed, and drapes hanging askew were all illuminated by dying candles that lay flickering and strewn across the floor like dying soldiers on a battlefield. In the twinkling golden light, you saw the Beast. And the Beast Kylo Ren had become was full of fury and sorrow and bloodlust, with no trace of the dashing man who had shown you a perfect evening. Shoulders hunched, long hair wild, muscles rippling beneath black fabric that was ill-suited to restrain them, Kylo snarled viciously as he grabbed another unfortunate chair and threw it against the wall with enough force to shatter it to splinters.

You could feel his rage and his pain as though they were your own. Rage at the monstrosity that lived inside him. Pain at sending away the woman who gave him a taste of salvation.

“You needn’t make such an ado over my departure,” you said calmly as you stepped fully into the broken dining hall. “You’ll find it has been delayed.”

Kylo whipped his head to look at you and you saw the face of the Beast. Razored fangs, two on each side of his upper teeth, were ready to tear you apart and his eyes were unnatural gleaming gold. A demon’s eyes met yours in place of a man’s. You saw in them shock that turned at once to shame and then bled into fear. Terror at the thought of harming you, because surely you would be overcome with fright, that deliciously irresistible fear, at the sight of him.

But the only fear was his, you had none. Stepping over rolling candles and broken glass, you walked to him with confidence until you stood close enough to feel the heat of his powerful body.

“You’re not the most dangerous thing in this castle tonight,” you told him in a sultry lift as you reached behind his neck. Without giving him the option to resist, you pulled him down to meet your lips and kissed him with a passion that set the soul within him burning as he crushed you to his body, wanting nevermore to release you from his embrace. There was no fear, only searing desire as you licked over the tips of his fangs and his tongue danced with yours. His golden eyes were molten when you finally drew apart and your lips were swollen with ripened pleasure when you said to him, “It took a witch to curse you. Only a witch can cure you.”

“A witch?” He cocked an eyebrow at you as a ferociously handsome smile curled his lips. “My darling, whether you offer a cure or another curse, I am yours for the taking.” He kissed you again, deep and lingering, then asked, “A lady as rare and radiant as you can only be a white witch?”

“Oh, I’m as wicked as they come.” You grinned wickedly indeed. “I came to the darkness long before you ever asked me to join you for an evening in your castle.” You stroked his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath your hands, his love and passion rekindled. “We shall share in this darkness, and within it, find more light and happiness than mere mortals have ever dared to dream.”

“Darkness or light, I will not let you walk in either alone.” He held you tighter, his strong arms wrapped around your body. “Until mountains crumble to dust at our feet, I will hold you and love you with all the might of my heart. It now beats for you alone. For as long as there are stars to shine and a moon to light our way, I will never leave your side.”

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Tagging some wicked witches!

#my stuff!#my writing #halloween #vampire #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #best #fic #kylo #writer wednesday #knight #Jacques

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