Actions

Work Header

Dead By Daylight One Shots

Chapter Text

Quentin ducks behind a wall, his heart pounding as he pulls his beanie over his ears and whimpers. That damned lullaby. He was dead; Nancy and him made sure of that. But he was here. Impossibly here. All Quentin had to do was stay awake and Krueger wouldn't be a threat. Right?

He lifts his head up and surveys his surroundings; there was a generator a few feet away from him that would work towards powering the exit gate. The gate that would let him leave. Quentin no longer heard the lullaby and he begins to creep towards the generator when he freezes, the sound of rapid footsteps nearing him, and quickly. His tired eyes gaze up from the generator to see a large male standing above him, huffing from running. He has a scarred, yet strong face, his head shaved on the sides and his eyes a deep emerald.

"Who the hell're you?"

Quentin stutters a bit, surprised by the man's thick Cockney accent. "Um... I'm....I'm Quentin...."

"Quentin, eh?" He looks around for any signs of the killer wandering around, then crouches in front of the smaller male, rubbing under his nose. "You're new?"

Quentin swallows and nods. "I am.... What's...what's your name?"

"....David."

David makes his way to the generator, and lets slip a soft yawn. Quentin tenses before murmuring softly. "Don't fall asleep...."

David raises an eyebrow at him, turning back to face him. "Why not? I mean, I wasn't necessarily plannin' on it, but what's it to you what I do?"

Quentin sighs and rubs the back of his neck, then begins working on the generator. "I....know him. The killer."

"You know 'im?!"

"Lower your voice!" Quentin hisses through clenched teeth. "Not personally, no. Just....before I got here....he tormented me and my friend."

David gives a small nod, occasionally glancing at him as he too begins to work.

"His name is Freddy Krueger.... He was a gardener before he died." Quentin falls silent as he frowns, taking his hands away from the generator, and David can see his hands tremble a bit. He looks up with an awkward chuckle, then instantly looks down again. "S-sorry, just....He....did things. And he....killed kids...."

David whistles softly, shaking his head. "Christ....What 'things' did he do....?"

They make eye contact for a moment before Quentin clears his throat. "He got arrested, but released because of a fuck-up. So the parents of those kids took matters into their own hands, and they burned him alive. But he came back. Now he kills in dreams...." Quentin huffs and gnaws at his lips. "My friend and I tried to take him down, but....apparently we weren't successful. He came after me next. Tried....messing with me. Make me go crazy from lack of sleep and just....give in. I gave him what he wanted but I had a plan. To take him down. Something went wrong and....I'm here now."

David nods slowly. "That's....a lot to take in. Is that why you look so bloody tired?"

They finish the generator, and Quentin grabs onto David's jacket and tugs him towards a large rock, where they crouch and hide together.

"Um, yeah, I guess. I kept myself up with pills and energy drinks...."

David's expression softens and he rests a hand on Quentin's shoulder. "Quin...I can't imagine how hard that must be for you...."

Quentin shrugs, his eyes trailing over the hand on his shoulder. "I've gotten used to it....it's just....It's getting harder and harder...to stay awake...."

David places his other hand on Quentin's shoulder, pushing their foreheads together and gazing into his dark eyes. "You gotta stay up just a little longer, Quin, 'right?"

Quentin nods, his eyelids fluttering as he begins nodding off, his lips parted slightly as he starts dozing off. David curses under his breath, looking around before shaking him a bit harshly.

"C'mon, Quin, wake up!"

Quentin slumps in his grasp, and David narrows his eyes as the sound of that lullaby fills his ears, only getting closer to their hiding place. He wraps Quentin up in his arms and tosses him over his shoulder, holding a hand over the small of his back as he carries the sleeping boy to a locker, setting him down and stepping inside with Quentin pulled against him. David's muscular body takes up most of the space in the small locker, but Quentin was slender, making it easy for them to fit inside together. David waits until the Dream Demon wanders off before trying to wake Quentin up again, shaking him as much as he could in the cramped space.

Quentin groans sleepily, but gradually wakes up, yawning before his eyes go wide. "Shit, did I fall asleep...?"

David nods. "Yeah, but don't worry. I won't let 'im get ya." He gives Quentin a small smirk, chuckling softly.

Quentin blushes and looks to the side, then blushes more when he realizes that David's muscular body is pushed up against him. "Y-you don't need to protect me....I'm alright...."

David raises an eyebrow and clicks his tongue. "Oh yeah? If I weren't there, you would've fallen asleep out there in the open, Quin." He slips his hand underneath Quentin's hat, tousling his brown curls. "I really don't mind watchin' over ya."

Quentin can't help but blush more and push himself into the hand massaging his scalp. He had been a bit of a loner back when he had been in school, so he never knew much affection from anyone. But even this small show of affection from David, whom he had just met, helped set his mind at ease more than anything could in the shitty situation he was in. He gives David a small smile, gazing up at him through his messy hair before gasping at the sound of blaring alarms.

"The doors! They're powered!"

David nods and intertwines his fingers with Quentin's, giving his hand a squeeze before running from the locker, pulling Quentin along behind towards the door. A young woman with dark hair and a loose beanie is already pulling the switch, looking around her for Freddy before the door finally slides open and David pulls Quentin through. The pair keep running, leaving Nea behind to go her own way. They run for what feels like forever, before David begins to slow, walking towards a small cabin in the woods.

"That should be good for us to stay the night...."

Quentin doubles over, gasping for breath and coughing from having to run for so long, longer than he had recently grown accustomed to. "Is...is it *cough cough* safe?"

David leaves Quentin to catch his breath and he peers inside before nodding cautiously. "Yeah...yeah, I think so. It should be fine for one night, at least."

Quentin nods, his breathing finally returning to normal as he joins David at the front door to the cabin. The larger male opens the door with a loud creak and walks in first, holding an arm out and pushing Quentin behind him. Quentin creeps behind him, and once they decide the cabin is truly safe, David drops his arm and shuts the door behind them, going to the small wooden table in the center of the room and lighting a candle, illuminating the small space in a faint golden glow. Quentin sits in the edge of the old bed, wrapping a fur blanket around his shoulders as he watches David inspect their surroundings.

"We should get some rest...." David kicks off his boots and peels off his over shirt as he walks towards the bed.

Quentin quickly shakes his head, pulling off his hat. "N-no...I can't sleep....I can't let him get me again..."

David's eyes are soft as he crouches in front of Quentin, resting his hand on his knee. "Look, I know you're scared....but I won't let ya get hurt, alright? I'll be right here, and if ya seem like you're in trouble, I'll wake ya up, alright?"

Quentin sighs, an unsure look in his eyes as he looks to the side. He rubs his thumb over David's bruised knuckles, then frowns down at the purple skin. "Where'd you get this....?"

David chuckles, watching Quentin's pale thumb rub across his bruised skin. "I made some bad decisions. I did some fights to make some spare money...."

Quentin nods, then slips off his button-up and t-shirt, showing the jagged scar across his shoulder.

David rises to his feet with a frown, rubbing his fingers against the raised skin, making Quentin suck in a soft breath. "Krueger?" Quentin nods, and David's gaze trails down to his slender torso, his frown deepening. "Ya don't eat much, do ya?"

Quentin hugs himself tightly, looking away. "I...was focused on other things. I didn't have time....I was focused on staying awake, so I only ate enough to keep me going...."

David wraps his muscular arms around Quentin's slender body, hugging him close. "I'll take care of ya....I promise...."

Quentin gasps at the gesture. "Y-you really don't need to...."

David sighs, narrowing his eyes at him. "I want to, okay? Shut up...." He pushes his forehead to Quentin's, his eyes shutting as he exhales in relaxation.

Quentin hesitates for a moment, then leans in, pushing his lips against David's in a quick kiss before pulling back to see his reaction. When David just looks at him with wide green eyes and parted lips, Quentin's heart races as he begins to panic, his face burning in embarrassment. "I am so sorry, I read the situation wrong, I just thought that was right? Um, I'm so sorry, that was weird, I, uh, wow I'm making things worse by rambling about it, and I -"

He's stopped by David's lips against his own in a gentle and sweet kiss. David begins to pull back, but lingers for another couple seconds before looking at Quentin's shocked expression with a snort. "You panic too easily. Now sleep, alright?"

Quentin tries to speak but only nods, clearing his throat and swallowing hard as he lays down on the bed, close to the wall with his back to David. He listens and feels the bed shift as David lays down beside him, then tenses when he feels those arms around him again, pulling him back against David's chest.

"This alright?"

Quentin nods, stuttering. "Y-yeah...." He can't help the shy smile that comes to his lips as he shifts to get comfortable, and soon dozes off in David's arms.

Chapter Text

Jake pulls himself off the hook, dropping down with a pained grunt and nearly losing his balance. He makes a run towards the stairs, but hears heavy footsteps and ducks back behind a wall. Holding a hand over the gash in his side, he takes in a breath and holds it, holding back groans of pain as the footsteps draw near. The killer walks up to the bloodied hook that Jake had been on moments before, inspecting it with a slight tilt of his head before turning to a closet and peeking inside. Jake can hear his heavy breaths through his mask, and he digs his nails into his palms as he can hardly hold back a wince. He lets slip a soft gasp, bringing see air into his lungs, then clasps a hand over his mouth with clenched eyes, silently cursing himself. He hears the rustle of the killer turning in his direction, his eyes widening as the tall male peeks around the corner at him. Jake huffs, freezing in fear as he pushes himself against the corner, knowing there was no way for him to get out. Michael takes a few steps towards him, and Jake lets out a snarl as he makes a run for it, trying to dash past him, when the killer grabs him by his wrist and yanks him back. There's a pop from Jake's shoulder as his arm bends painfully, and he cries out before crashing to the ground at Michael's feet. He grips onto his shoulder and squirms in discomfort, his head growing a little fuzzy from the pain. He looks up to see Michael push a foot against his stomach, pinning him to the ground.

"Let me go!!" Jake hits at Michael's leg with his uninjured arm, desperately trying to push him off, while Myers simply stares down at him.

While Jake struggles, Michael looks at him curiously, lowering his foot and applying a bit of pressure between his legs. Jake gasps from the feeling, tensing underneath him and looking to the side, panting hard from effort.

His response changed, Michael thought. He had been struggling, trying to get away, but when he moved his foot, Jake stopped fighting. Intrigued, he starts to slowly rub his foot against that spot, making Jake whimper and clench his eyes shut as he weakly tries to push away from the touch. Michael growls softly, lowering down so he hovers over Jake, and he pushes his hand against Jake's bulge, cupping him gently. Jake tries to close his legs, his heart pounding in his chest as he hangs head, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes. Michael hesitates, holding his knife in front of Jake's eyes before lowering it and shoving it out of reach, the sound of it crashing against the wall echoing in the basement.

Jake raises an eyebrow at him, gnawing at his lip as he has a shine of unease in his eyes. "What....what are you doing....?"

Michael hesitates for a moment before moving his hand to Jake's hip, cupping it and rubbing the soft skin and gazing at it.

"Take your mask off...." Jake reaches down and pinches at the edge of his mask, beginning to left it before Michael grabs his wrist tightly. Jake's eyes widen, but after a moment, Michael loosens his grip, allowing him to take off his mask, freeing his messy blonde hair and letting it cascade down his shoulders. Jake touches his fingertips to Michael's face, studying his features silently, as Michael grabs the top of his jeans, giving it a small tug.

Jake shakes his head, looking at Michael sternly. "No...."

Michael frowns, giving another small tug, and Jake places his hand over the killer's, stopping him.

"I said no....I'm hurt....I need to heal. But....I won't run away. As long as you don't hurt me anymore."

Michael's lips twitch slightly in frustration, but he gives a small nod, rising to his feet and slipping his mask back on. He tucks his knife into his pocket and lifts Jake to his feet before tossing him over his shoulder, making the smaller male grunt in pain.

"Hey, careful!!"

Michael walks up the stairs, giving Jake's ass a smack to quiet him before leaving the basement.

Chapter Text

Michael watches as the last survivor sprints out of the door, clenching his jaw in frustration. He squeezes the handle of his knife, trying to remain calm as his prey escapes. As he maintains his composure, he feels eyes burning into the back of his head. His eyes narrow behind his mask as he tilts his head in the direction of the eyes, but he can't see anything through the fog and dark bushes. It wasn't often that the stalker was stalked, and for some reason, it left a feeling of unease in his chest. He turns and scans the woods around him, and finally sees a flash of movement. A small smirk comes to his lips as he starts to make his way towards the figure, who, realizing he had been seen, turns and begins to sprint away. He wears a long cloak, his face covered with a cheap Halloween mask. The distance between them grows as the smaller figure flees, but when he tries to duck through a rip in the chain link fence, his garments get caught and he crashes to the ground with a loud grunt. This was Michael's chance. He catches up easily, without wasting energy by running, and looms over the man as he tries to pull his cloak free. The man stares up at the Shape for a moment before pulling out a knife, digging it into Michael's ankle. Michael roars in pain, doubling over and ripping out the blade. When he looks up, his new prey is gone. All that remains is a chunk of black fabric, dangling from the fence. With an exhale of annoyance, Michael ducks through the fence, listening for any sounds that could alert him to the other's location. He's just about to turn around and give up when he feels a weight on his shoulders and a hand clawing into his shoulder. The Ghostface snarls as he holds onto Michael's shoulders, gripping tightly as the large male attempts to throw him off. He begins slipping, his gloved fingers grasping for anything desperately, and they catch onto the edge of Michael's mask. As he falls back, Ghostface takes the mask with him, and Michael whirls around angrily, staring down at the slender male and his mask clutched in Ghostface's hands.

"Whoa...." His voice is grainy and distorted, coming through some sort of voice changer that was in his costume. "You look different than I thought you would..."

Michael stares down at him for a moment, his rage only growing as he stands exposed without his mask. His temper getting the better of him, he delivers a hard kick to Ghostface's side, making the male let out a distorted cough and roll over, holding his ribs. Ghostface reaches for his knife, his hand outstretched, before Michael kicks the knife away and stomps onto his hand, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the loud crunch beneath his boot and Ghostface's howl of pain. He lifts his boot up and rolls Ghostface over with his foot, so the panting male lays on his back. Michael rips his mask from Ghostface's slender fingers, then pauses as he gazes at the white plastic and dark eyes of his attacker's mask.

"You gonna kill me....? Huh, big guy?"

Michael exhales in annoyance before grabbing the mask and ripping it off of Ghostface, revealing a pale young male with messy, dark hair, his eyes narrowed in defiance as he huffs. Something was different about this man that made him stand out from Michael's other victims. Even though the odds were stacked against him, and he was bleeding and broken on the ground, there wasn't a single shred of fear in his eyes. Only determination. It was....admirable. Something about that strength and desire to live made Michael want to spare him.

Michael tugs his mask back on, feeling more comfortable without his face being exposed to Danny.

Danny's eyes dart around, calculating his chance to escape. "What's in your mind, Mike?"

He knew his name? How? Michael frowns, looking to the small voice changer that continued to warm Danny's voice, then he stomps on it, instantly breaking the small device.

Danny gasps and holds up a finger, reaching his unbroken hand into his robes and pulling out a camera. He turns it on, pressing a few buttons before holding it out to Michael.

"See? I'm a killer too....Like you."

Michael takes the camera and inspects the image shown on the tiny screen. There was Danny, taking a picture with a fresh corpse. The specks of blood on the mask and the knife plunged into the victim's back proved that what Danny said was true; he was a killer. They were similar.

Danny takes his camera back, pushing his hand through his thick hair as he sighs. "Don't you think things could be a lot more fun in pairs?"

Michael hesitates. What thrilled him was the chase. His prey trying so hard to get away, yet ultimately meeting the cold metal of his blade. But this young killer, Danny.... Maybe he could liven things up. Maybe Michael could find a new joy in killing he would never know without an accomplice. He cracks a small smile under his mask and rises to his full height, holding a hand out to Danny. He easily yanks the injured male to his feet, and Danny holds his side with a chuckle.

"You did quite a number on me, big guy. This could be interesting."

Chapter Text

Meg makes a quick sprint to the door, her eyes staring with determination at the others running in front of her. Then, she sees him. Towering above her, a rusted trap in one hand and a bloodied cleaver in the other, is the Trapper. She skids to a stop before turning and running back where she came. The hatch. There was a hatch nearby, wasn't there? She begins running along the edge of the walls, eyes peeled and ears listening. There. She could hear the unearthly howl of the hatch. She begins running in the direction of the sound, and finally she can see it. Just a little closer, and-

*SNAP*

Meg lets out an echoing cry as she crumples to the ground, panting heaving breaths as she gazes back at the metal jaws digging into the soft flesh of her ankle. At first, she tries to pry it off with the other foot, but when that proves useless, she desperately tries to crawl towards the hatch. She's almost there, when she feels a hand grab the back of her neck and yanking her off the ground. The Trapper yanks the trap off of her ankle, ripping her flesh in the process  and forcing her to hold back a whimper of pain. He tosses her over his shoulder, and carries her while she tries to struggle free. But he doesn't stop at a hook. He continues to carry her into a rundown factory, walking her inside and through the halls until they get to a small room, with a messy cot pushed in a corner. He lays her down, almost gently, then takes a step back, as if to give her space. She rubs at the coarse fabric of the blankets, frowning in confusion. Why was he sparing her? Couldn't he just kill her? He stares down at her, almost unmoving, and she gazes back with a tilt of her head.

"Why....? Why are you doing this?" Meg knew he was human, or at least was. She hoped that there was enough humanity in him to have at least a shred of a normal conversation.

He's silent for a moment, pondering for a while. At first, she thought he wouldn't answer. "They....left you."

Meg gasps. She hasn't expected him to actually answer her. She looks to the side, slipping off her baseball cap and rubbing her shoulder. "I....don't blame them. They wanted to live, I guess...."

He frowns behind his mask. "They left you...."

Meg rubs her fingers against her braid, fiddling with it before gazing back up at him. "I don't....hate them for it."

The Trapper sits on the small bed beside her, making it squeak softly. "You wouldn't have left, would you?"

She looks at him a bit uneasily, but when he doesn't move to hurt her, she relaxes. "....No. I would have stayed."

He turns to face her, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Aren't you mad?"

Meg pauses. Sure, she was disappointed that they would just abandon her. But what mattered was that they were okay. They were safe. "I'm not mad....I'm not one to hold grudges."

He grinds his teeth in frustration, but decided he's getting nowhere with the current topic. He looks down to her leg, rising from the bed and walking to a table, throwing a few things around as he looks.

Meg hugs her uninjured leg to her chest, cautiously watching him. He returns with a small glass of water and a bundle of bandages. He hands the water to her, giving an encouraging nod. She touches her lips to the glass; it didn't smell odd, or look like he had put anything into it. She exhales, and drinks. The water was refreshing; her throat had grown raw from all the running she had done before, and the drink was all she needed to calm her nerves. As she drinks the rest of the glass, the Trapper begins wrapping the bandage around her injury, being surprisingly gentle for a serial killer.

"Um....thank you."

He finishes bandaging her, then gazes up as he rises. "I'm...Evan."

Meg gives him a small smile, pulling both legs into the bed and getting comfy. "Meg." He looks around the room idly, and she breaks the momentary silence. "You just want to take care of me, don't you? You're not gonna hurt me?"

Evan looks back to her, a sort of softness in his eyes as he nods. "Just....don't run."

Meg nods, loosening her braid and combing her fingers through her orange locks as she sighs in relaxation. "I won't. You're....a sweet guy, Evan."

Evan was glad he had his mask on, so the woman wouldn't see the growing blush on his cheeks. "Thanks....Meg."

Chapter Text

Claudette watches as the Legion clutches his hand over his face, groaning and doubling over, as if in pain. A frown comes to her features; it seemed as if pushing himself hurt the killer. She decides to observe him a little longer, until the others fire up the last generator and power the exit gates. She makes her way to the closest door, keeping watch from afar as Jeff tugs at the switch, his dark hair blowing lightly in the wind.

Legion sprints from the brush, heading straight for Jeff, and in that one moment before the knife connected with her friend, Claudette jumps in front of him, arms spread to protect him. Legion, surprised by the sudden altruistic act, tries to skid to a stop but ends up crashing into Claudette, and they both fall to the ground as Jeff finished opening the door. Jeff takes a step inside of the gates, looking back at Claudette.

Claudette grasps onto Legion's jacket with an iron grip, keeping him from rising to his feet. "Just go, Jeff!! I'll be okay!"

Jeff hesitates before turning and sprinting to freedom. With the last of his prey gone, Legion hits the ground in frustration, growling. "Dammit!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Claudette shoves him off and takes a few steps back, panting from the effort of holding him down, then chuckles. "Guess I'll have to do, huh?"

Legion glares at the door, then, knife in hand, walks up to Claudette. He holds the tip of his knife under her chin, huffing in anger. She simply smirks up at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, lady?! Aren't you scared?!"

"No. I'm not scared of you."

This seems to frustrate him more, and he turns away with a groan, ripping his mask off and letting it drop to the grass. "What the fuck am I gonna do with you...."

Claudette crosses her arms over her chest, peering at him over her glasses. "When you do your dash thing....That hurts you, doesn't it?"

He tenses, glancing back at her. "Why do you care?"

He had dark hair, cut short and shaved on the sides, and dark eyes. And an intricate tattoo covering his neck. Claudette simply smiles. He was human. She had gone toe to toe with inhuman beings, but this man in front of her was human. Like her.

"Because I do. Look, I know killing is your thing, but....why kill me? What will you gain?"

He pulls his hood off, scoffing and rolling his eyes, but he tucks his knife away. "You think you can try to sweet talk your way out of this?"

"No. If you want to kill me, I know you will. Yet, you haven't. Why not?"

He huffs, grabbing his mask and hooking it onto his belt before jabbing a finger against her chest. "You better watch it, or I will kill you, lady."

She narrows her eyes and pushes his hand away. "It's Claudette, and what I'm saying is that we can learn from each other."

He glares at her for a moment before murmuring. "Learn what?"

"I wanna know how the Entity works....And I wanna learn about you...."

Legion places a hand on his hip, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "And what do I get outta this?"

"Anything you want."

Legion ponders for a moment. "You're pretty weak. I....suppose I could teach you a thing or two about defense...."

"So, do we have a deal....?" Claudette holds out her hand, raising a brow.

Legion hesitates, then takes her hand and shakes it. "I'm Frank. Welcome to the Legion."

Claudette's hand lingers in his as she frowns. Had she just agreed to become part of his killing squad?

- - - - -

"Who the hell is she?"

Claudette looks around the lobby of the rundown resort, looking at Frank's friends. Her eyes land on the woman who spoke.

"Calm down, Jules....She won't do anything."

Claudette looks from Julie to the small figure hunched on a couch, her long pink hair ties into a messy bun. The girl tugs at something burrowed into her leg. Claudette rushes over, crouching and holding her hands gently over the other girl's.

"Lemme take a look at it, okay?"

The girl tenses, but nods, and Claudette looks at the wound. A rock shard sticks out of the girl's leg, oozing blood and making her whimper softly. Claudette wraps her fingers around it and pulls it out, making the girl shriek in pain and shove her away, tears welling in her eyes.

Frank rushes over, helping Claudette up and trying to calm the crying girl. "Suzie, look. It's out. It won't hurt anymore, okay?"

Suzie sniffles, rubbing the tears from her cheeks as she looks down at the small hole in her leg where the shard was. Claudette pushes herself up from the ground, adjusting her glasses and pulling out a first aid kit. She pulls out some alcohol and bandages, cleaning the wound and bandaging it while Suzie squeezes Frank's hand.

"There, hun....That should feel better after a bit. One of the other survivors do that to you?"

Suzie nods, calmed down, and her fingertips rub against the edges of the bandage as she murmurs. "Thank you...."

Frank glances at Claudette, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a room so they were alone. "Why did you do that?"

Claudette scoffs, crossing her arms and jutting out a hip. "Do what? Help that poor girl?"

"We're killers, aren't we? Why are you helping? She's nothing but a cold-blooded killer, isn't she?!"

Claudette narrows her eyes at him, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "She's human! And so are you! Running around, trying to survive, you forget that the killers are human too. And....there must be a reason why you decided to kill. Something that happened to you...."

Frank stares at her for a moment before suddenly leaning in, pushing his lips against hers. Claudette stiffens, her eyes widening from the sudden movement. Frank pulls back, panting softly.

"You're so....different....from the others. No one else has seen anyone of us as actual humans.... we're just...monsters to them."

Claudette touches her fingers to her lips, face red. "Y-you kissed me...."

Frank rolls his eyes and starts to pull back, but Claudette grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls him back.

"Hey....it was...nice...."

Frank raises an eyebrow, then smirks as she kisses him back.

Kissing a killer was the last thing Claudette thought she would be doing with her day.

Chapter Text

Jake focuses on a generator, ignoring the distant screams of one of the other survivors getting hooked. He zones out, going into that quiet place in his mind where he could focus and block out all distractions. The killer was preoccupied with the others; he could work in peace. With one final button press, the generator roars to life, the lights above him flashing on. Only one more to go. He sneaks his way around, avoiding open areas where he could possibly be in the killer's line of sight, and approaches another generator. He sets to work, but not even a minute later, he hears footsteps, and they're getting closer. Lifting his head up from the generator, Jake looks up just in time to see the older man, Ace, with the Trapper hot on his heels. Ace makes direct eye contact with Jake, narrowing his eyes at the other survivor as he makes a last second turn, right as the Trapper makes a swing. With Ace out of the way of the swing, the Trapper's cleaver sinks right into the flesh of Jake's shoulder, making him bite back a loud scream. He pushes himself from the ground, then sprints, clutching his shoulder and huffing in pain. That bastard, he thought. Ace led him right to me, on purpose. His mind clouded by anger, he makes a mistake and stumbles over the root of a tree, allowing the killer to slash him across his back and send him falling to the ground. He groans in pain, feeling blood ooze from the cut in his back, when the Trapper lifts him over his shoulder, carrying him to a hook and dripping him onto the rusted metal. Jake lets himself go limp, sighing from exhaustion before he sees a blonde-haired woman, crouching nearby and watching as the Trapper leaves. As soon as it's clear, she runs up and unhooks Jake, giving him a close-up of her intricate tattoo and bright eyes. She turns around to come face to face with the killer, letting out a gasp as he grabs her and throws her over his shoulder. Jake watches helplessly as she struggles, but the woman struggles with determination in her eyes, eventually throwing the killer off balance and forcing him to drop her. While the killer is momentarily stunned, she grabs Jake's wrist, running away from the killer and ducking through the trees as if she had memorized a path. Her grip is strong, but not painful, and she pulls him towards a wall, crouching behind it and pulling Jake close.

"You...saved me...." Jake pants, trying to catch his breath.

Her chest heaves under her croptop from her heavy breaths, those gorgeous eyes scanning the environment. When she speaks, her voice has a southern drawl to it, adding to her country beauty. "Of course. You would've done the same."

They lock eyes, and Jake's heart flutters in his chest as he gazes at her. She was wrong, though. He wouldn't have done the same. If it had been her who was hooked, Jake would have simply continued working on the generator, as long as it meant he was closer to surviving.

After a moment of silence, she gasps and reaches into her pocket. "Damn, he got you pretty bad....Lemme help." She leans close, her hands gently taking care of Jake's wounds.

Jake has to avoid staring down her tight shirt, swallowing hard as he tries to look at everything but the woman helping him. He had never met anyone as selfless and beautiful as her. And he had no idea what to do.

She finishes up and tucks her wavy hair behind her ear, frowningat the sound of nearing footsteps. She pushes herself up against Jake, her long golden hair framing Jake's head. Her arms are pressed on either side of him, hiding him from sight. The killer wanders off silently, and she pulls back from him, rising to her feet and holding a hand out to him.

"I'm Kate."

He takes her hand, gasping as he's yanked to his feet with ease. "Jake....Thanks. Again."

A smile comes to Kate's lips. "Well, Jake. Let's you and I get outta here, hm?"

Jake nods, smiling back, and follows her to the exit doors, a newfound fire burning in him.

Chapter Text

Steve woke up, but things were different this time. When he would wake up before, it was always in front of a campfire, surrounded by others like him. Survivors. But this time, he was alone. No campfire, no survivors. He stood in a dark area, a place he didn't recognize. An abandoned building stood tall in the distance, eerily cast in shadow. He didn't trust it. Pushing a hand through his hair, he picks a direction and walks, and after what felt like an eternity of silence, the distant sound of carnival music reached his ears. There wasn't much else for him to do, so he decided to walk towards it. What was the worst that could happen?

Steve soon comes to a small little carnival. Nothing big. Just very small, yet cheery in the darkness of the rest of his surroundings. Maybe he was dreaming. He frowns and walks onto the grounds, looking about him cautiously. No one else was here. Then, he hears the horse. He hadn't seen any other animal except for crows and the occasional rat since he came to this place. He approaches a trailer, decorated with bright colors and words, but chipped with age, the sound of the snorting horse growing louder. Walking around the trailer, he slows as the horse makes a strange sound. It was like a neigh, but....wrong. Then he sees it. A rotting horse, dripping with some sort of disgusting liquid, and it turns it's head, staring at Steve with all three of its eyes. Steve exclaims in terror, stumbling backwards and crashing to the dirt with a grunt.

"W-what the fuck?!"

Steve starts to scramble backwards from the horse, which only looks at him with a distorted snort. He pushes himself up from the ground, panting and backing away with wide eyes. He turns away, but freezes when he sees a large figure looking in the mist, staring at the young male. They stand still, staring at each other, before he lets out a loud cough, reaching into his coat and pulling out...a knife. Steve's breath hitches and he turns, running off to the side, avoiding the horse and avoiding the clown. He had been an athlete; outrunning this killer was easy for him. At least, until he heard the crash of glass by his side. Was the clown throwing bottles now? Steve glances back, frowning as a bright pink cloud begins to envelope him. His vision begins to cloud, his mind growing foggy as he starts to stumble around, finding it hard to keep his footing. The vapor makes its way into his lungs, choking him and burning his throat. His world spins, and Steve crashes to the ground, his eyes burning with tears as he digs his nails into the dirt. Over the pounding of his head, he hears muffled footsteps, and Steve gazes up as the clown grins down at him, reaching down before the male blacks out.

When Steve comes to, he finds himself in an old shed, surrounded by a musty smell of old metal and mildew. He shakes his head, groaning as he shakes out the sleep and he tries to rise to his feet, waking up more as he finds himself tied up, his arms bound behind his back and his ankles tied together. He struggles, grunting as he tries to fight against his restraints, but stops when he hears the door to the shed open, the wood creaking under the steps of the clown. Steve holds still, panting and gazing at the killer through his messy hair.

The clown coughs a few times, staring down at Steve before lowering down in front of him. He pushes a finger against Steve's jaw, forcing him to turn his head slowly, allowing the clown to inspect his face. Being this close, Steve could smell the strong scent of the clown's face paint. He can feel a bead of sweat drip down the side of his head, and he gasps as the clown grabs him by his hair, pulling at the thick locks and making Steve groan in pain.

The clown leans in close, his face right up against the man's neck, and he inhales Steve's scent slowly, murmuring in a hoarse whisper. "Are you scared....?"

Steve keeps his lips shut tightly, his body shaking a bit as he avoids looking at the killer.

The clown snarls, slamming his head back against the wall. Steve's vision grows fuzzy for a moment as he groans from the impact, then he exhales shakily, clenching his eyes shut so the killer wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing him cry.

"I said....are you scared....?"

Steve hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. He feels the grip on his hair loosen, and the clown rises to his full height, standing tall in front of Steve.

"Good....I might keep you alive, then...." With that, the clown leaves the shed once again, and Steve hangs his head, letting out a sob of fear as he shakes on the hard ground.

Chapter Text

Steve sat by himself at the campfire, staring into the flames and exhaling softly as he pokes at the wood with a branch. The others had all found a place to sleep, but Steve just couldn't rest. Yeah, he was exhausted from running and hiding, stuck in what felt like an endless loop, but he was restless. He wanted to get out, back to Hawkins, his home. He wanted to see those kids again. Hell, he even missed Jonathan and Nancy. He needed to find a way home.

His heart feels like it stops as he hears the snapping of a twig behind him, and Steve grabs the branch he's holding with both hands and swings it, the burning wood lighting up his eyes. The branch makes contact with metal, and Steve's eyes widen as he freezes.

"You go around hitting everyone you see with sticks?"

Steve lowers the branch, setting it into the fire and exhaling as he turns away from the older man. "I'm not in the mood....You shouldn't sneak up on people." He sits back down, looking back into the fire.

The other man sits down beside Steve, rubbing at his wrist where the metal hand meets flesh. "What're you doing up, kid? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Steve sighs and rises, clenching his fists at his sides as he stares down at the older male. "Why the hell are you pestering me? How is it any of your business?!" He pushes his hands through his hair, puffing out his cheeks with a heavy breath. "And I'm no kid...."

He rises up, holding his hands out and nodding. "Okay, okay....My bad. It isn't any of my business....but if we're gonna be working together to live, I kinda want someone who's not sleep-deprived. So maybe you should get some 'zzz's', if you know what I'm saying."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not the one you should be talking to about sleep-deprivation. You might wanna talk to Quent about that."

The man raises a brow as well. "Who now?"

Steve rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Quentin. Super tired, wears a beanie, about my age?"

"Ooooh, you mean the kid who looks half dead."

Steve snorts out a laugh, giving the man a small smirk. "Maybe you're not as bad as I thought you'd be. I'm Steve."

He chuckles, smirking back. "I'm Ash."

- - - - -

Ash kneels in front of a generator, frowning at it as he pushes and prods random buttons, pulling at any cords he can grab. He huffs in frustration; technology was not his strong suit. He could drive a stick-shift, fire a gun, and wield a chainsaw as a hand, but fixing these generators was out of the question. He looks up to see Steve quietly approach him, and he clicks his tongue at him.

"Hey, Stevie, I got this. Go find your own."

Steve leans around the generator, locking eyes with him. "Oh, yeah, looks like you got this. It's, like, almost done too. Good job, Ash."

"Hey, watch the sarcasm." Ash mutters under his breath, mimicking Steve and trying to make it look like he at least knew what he was doing.

"....You're not fooling anyone."

Ash drops his hands to his thighs, looking back to Steve. "If you're such a hot-shot, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Gladly." Steve slips over to where Ash is crouched, grabbing onto a metal bit and giving it a firm shake, the cylinders beginning to churn a bit faster. He lifts his head up, his face a few inches from Ash's. "Get it....?"

Ash gives a small nod. Seeing Steve do it did help. Steve makes his way back to the side he had been working on, and the two of them work in silence. Just as they're about to finish, Ash gasps and grabs Steve by his shoulder, yanking him close. With Ash's quick acting, Steve barely missed a knife in his back from the Shape. Steve falls against Ash's chest, about to bark at him for yanking him so hard, before he sees the killer and gasps.

Ash rises to his feet, pulling Steve upright as well. "C'mon, kid, move!! Don't just stand there!"

Steve stares at the killer in shock for another moment before swallowing and nodding, following right behind Ash as they flee. He catches up to Ash, the pair running side by side and panting with the effort. For being older than Steve, Ash seemed to have a surprising amount of stamina. Ash's dark eyes peer back, widening when they land on the nearing killer. The Shape raises his knife over his head, and brings it down.

"Steve, look out!!"

Before Steve can respond, he feels a force shove into him, making him veer off to the side with a grunt, followed by the sound of blade meeting flesh and a scream of pain. "ASH!!"

Ash falls to the ground at Michael's feet, clutching onto a bleeding shoulder and groaning in pain. While the killer wipes the bit of blood from his knife onto his clothes, Steve leaps for a discarded flashlight, aiming it right in the killer's face. Michael groans in anger, leaning away from the blinding light and rubbing at the holes in his mask where his eyes peered out. With the killer momentarily stunned, Steve slips an arm around Ash, lifting him up with a grunt and carrying him towards the door. Another Survivor finishes opening up the exit gate, and the three of them run out, successfully escaping the killer.

After running for a bit, Steve slows to a stop in a clearing in the woods, panting hard and fast from running for so long. He gently sets Ash down, plopping down onto the grass beside him and laying down.

"You saved me...."

Steve looks over to the injured Ash, then lets out a laugh, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the stars above. "I'm not a....what do you say? An 'alone wolf'?"

Ash chuckles, his laughs turning into soft winces. He looks over to Steve, a small smile on his lips. "You know, kid....You really make me rethink being alone....I could get used to having you around...."

Steve meets his eyes, gazing into them for a moment before smiling as well. "Same goes for me....you'll need me around to watch your back, dipshit...."

They both laugh, staring up at the night sky before Steve rubs at his arms, shivering.

"Now that we're not running all over the place, it's fucking freezing...."

Ash hesitates, lifting his uninjured arm up. "Why don't you come here? Probably a lot warmer than just shivering there by yourself."

Steve can't help the small blush that comes to his cheeks as he nods, clearing his throat and inching closer to Ash until he's curled against his side. He feels Ash's arm around him, and he relaxes, shutting his eyes.

"You're....really warm."

Ash chuckles softly, the laugh rumbling in his chest. "I know.....Get some rest, kid....Tomorrow, we're gonna try to get out of this hellhole.....together."

Steve can't help but grin against Ash's chest. 'Together'. He liked the sound of that.

Chapter Text

Quentin walks down the sidewalk with his head low and his hands in his pockets. His music blares through his earbuds as he walks; anything to keep him awake. It was getting harder and harder for him to not fall asleep; it also didn't help that he no longer had Nancy by his side to help him. After everything they had been through....She decided it was best if they stayed friends. It didn't hurt anymore, though. It had been really hard for Quentin in the beginning, but he got over the pain. Just focused on staying awake. That's what mattered.

He walks into the pharmacy, eyes still low and focused on his feet as he walked up to the counter. When he approaches the pharmacist, he removes an earbud, clearing his throat. "Excuse me....I'm picking up my prescription...."

The pharmacist looks the male over with a bit of judgement in her eyes, then looks to her computer. "Name?"

"Quentin Smith...."

She types his name into the computer, her eyes scanning the screen before she looks back over to him. "I'm sorry, sir, but....we've refilled your medication as much as we can for now. You'll have to wait at least 2 weeks for the next refill."

Quentin's heart begins to race in panic. "B-but, I need those pills. Please!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but you must be taking more than the normal dosage. Otherwise, you wouldn't be having this problem."

The woman's condescending tone only made matters worse for him. "Sometimes, it's not strong enough, okay? I just....Please, just give me an advance just this once!"

"I cannot do that, sir! You are already taking the highest dosage offered for this medication, and if you need to take more than one to feel an effect, you may want to see a doctor or therapist and figure out some sort of alternative."

Quentin slips off his beanie, pushing his hand through his curls as he quickly tries to think. He hadn't even noticed the tall male beside him, until he spoke up with a deep Cockney accent.

"Can't ya just give him the pills? Cut the man some slack, yeah?"

The pharmacist turns her attention to the other man. "I'm sorry, sir, but this doesn't really regard you."

"Well, I think it kinda does when you're being a bit of a cunt to someone who's just asking for a little help."

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?!"

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing Quentin's arm with a strong, yet somehow gentle grip, pulling him towards the door. "Whatever, cunt, we don't need your attitude anyways." He pulls Quentin outside, scoffing and crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "Damn broad...."

Quentin stares at him with a bit of shock, then shakes his head. "W-was it really necessary to call her....that?"

"What, a cunt? I'm just calling it like it is."

Quentin sighs, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I mean....I guess she was just doing her job...."

"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to act a lil' human now and then, right?" The man rubs at the shaved sides of his head, and Quentin notices his heavily bruised knuckles. "What'd you need so bad anyways?"

Quentin's eyes shift to the side as he sighs, hesitating before murmuring. "It's a pill that helps me stay awake...."

He frowns, looking Quentin over. "It looks like that's the last type of pill you need....You look like a zombie...."

"....Thanks." Quentin rolls his eyes, and he begins to walk away before the man grabs his shoulder and forces him to turn around.

"Oi, I didn't mean nothing bad by it. I just meant that you look like you could really use some sleep. Why try so hard to stay up?"

Quentin shifts his weight onto one leg, staring at the cement under his feet before sighing. "I....have night terrors."

"Oh...." A frown comes to his face, yet his expression softens as he gazes down at Quentin. "I'm sorry to hear that...."

Quentin simply shrugs dismissively, tapping his foot anxiously. "....I'm Quentin."

He chuckles, patting the smaller male on the back. "I'm David. How about we go get a few drinks, relax."

Quentin chuckles, nodding his head and sliding his beanie back on.

- - - - -

They had wandered from bar to bar, but with each one, David ran into someone who wasn't really on his good side. With a sigh of defeat, the large male looks down to Quentin.

"How about you and me pick up a few six packs and relax at my place?"

Quentin nods, clearing his throat. "I'm, uh....not completely legal though. I can't buy anything...."

David clicks his tongue, scratching at the back of his neck. "Well, if ya trust me, I can always buy it for us if ya give me the money. I'm kinda low on funds right now...."

Quentin hesitates, then reaches into his wallet, pulling out the money and handing it to David. He had just met this man, but something about him told Quentin David could be trusted. He watches as David walks into a convenience store, and after about ten minutes of waiting outside, David comes back out to Quentin, handing him a six pack and carrying a couple himself.

They chatter, talking back and forth about random things; David saw what he described as "a real-life crackhead" in the store, making Quentin let out a laugh as David did a shitty impression of the man in the store. They finally approach an apartment building, and David unlocks the door, letting them in. Quentin looks around; the decorations were modern and looked a bit costly. David must have come from money. He sets the beers on the counter, and David gives him a quick tour before they sit down in front of the fireplace, opening their first beers.

- - - - -

"And....guess my dad decided to cut me off right then and there...." David sips at his beer, looking down at the empty bottles around them before looking up at Quentin.

The brunette gazes at David with a soft look in his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "You're so nice....why would he do that...."

David chuckles softly, taking the beer Quentin held and setting it away from him. "You're drunk."

Quentin whines softly, then reaches for the beer, losing his balance and faceplanting into David's lap. David's breath hitches as he gazes down at the smaller male, who slowly picks up his head and smiles at David through his messy hair.

"You're so handsome...."

David clears his throat, looking away as his face flushes. "C-c'mon, Quent....let's call it good for tonight....you can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch...."

Quentin huffs, pushing himself up by grabbing David's muscular thighs, and he pushes his lips to the male's in a sloppy kiss. David gasps against him, lingering before pulling back.

"No, Quentin, you're drunk....I shouldn't have let you drink so much in the first place...."

Quentin frowns, pushing his face against David's neck and kissing his warm skin, his hand rubbing against David's abs. "Don't you like me.....? Aren't I good enough....?"

David swallows, leaning away from the kisses. "That's not the point, love....I'm not doing anything while you're like this...."

Quentin lets out a grunt of frustration, nuzzling his head underneath David's chin as his hand trails lower and he cups the other male through his jeans. David has to bite back a groan of pleasure, leaning his head back as he exhales heavily. He hadn't been with anyone in too long; he didn't have anyone touch him like this in years. And Quentin was so adorable. But he couldn't. He couldn't take advantage of the younger male.

"Quentin, stop!" He forces his voice to be stern, his hands pushing Quentin back by his shoulders.

Quentin frowns, but listens, lowering his head. He's silent for a moment, before letting out a soft sob.

"Hey, love...Don't cry, it's nothing against you....I just don't want you to regret it in the morning...."

Quentin wipes his eyes on his sleeve as he sniffles, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I just wanna be normal....I wanna be able to sleep without the nightmares and fear....I'm so scared...."

David pulls him close, shushing him and rocking him in his arms. "It's okay, it's okay....I'm here....You can sleep....I'll make sure nothing hurts you...."

Quentin sobs into his chest softly for a few minutes, and his sobs soon fade into sleepy snores. David exhales in relief; it hurt to see him cry. He gently lifts Quentin up, carrying him to the bedroom and laying him on the bed, laying down beside him. He pulls the covers over both of them, hugging the small drunk male close.

"I got ya....don't worry....."

Chapter Text

Quentin walks out of the cafe he had been in, clutching the warm cup in his cold hands. Winter had set in, and snow blanketed the ground beneath his feet. It had snowed a few feet the night before, and Quentin watched as the plows made their way down the road, clearing it for cars and revealing the ice underneath. He sighs, inhaling the scent of liquid caffeine in his hands; caffeine had been a close friend of his recently. Just as he raises the cup to his lips to take a drink, his eyes land on a man with a hood pulled over his head, shoulders hunched as he crosses the road. The man slips and falls on black ice, letting out a groan as his knees crash into the road. A massive plow drives straight towards him, the driver too distracted by something in the passenger seat to see the man in the ground. Quentin's mind reels, his body jolting into action as he sprints towards the road, slowing down so he himself doesn't slip and fall. He holds his hands up, standing in front of the man.

"Hey!! Stop!! There's someone down here!!"

The driver finally sees Quentin, gasping and hitting his breaks. The plow stops a mere few inches in front of the two, and Quentin exhales a shaky breath, leaning down and hooking an arm under the male's arm, lifting him up.

"You okay....?"

The male meets Quentin's tired eyes, a small grin coming to his lips. "You saved me...."

Quentin walks him back to the sidewalk, chuckling nervously. "I did what anyone would have done...."

"No one else tried to help me....Let me make it up to you! Let me take you out to dinner tonight, my treat."

Quentin rubs the back of his neck, looking to the side. The male was attractive, Quentin couldn't deny that, but he didn't want people getting the wrong idea by seeing two men eating dinner together. But when he looks back up at the man and sees a charming smirk, he gives in.

"Alright....I guess. I'm Quentin, by the way."

"Frank. Nice to meet you, Quent."

- - - - -

After their dinner, the pair walk down the street, chatting and laughing in the darkness of the night. Quentin was surprised to find himself enjoying the bad boy's company. He usually liked staying in, and keeping to himself, but something about this other man...excited him.

"We're here."

Quentin looks up to Frank; he hadn't realized yet had already gotten to Quentin's place. He chuckles, pulling out his key and pausing before looking back at Frank.

"Will I see you again?"

Frank smirks, winking down at him as he rubs at his tattooed neck. "We'll definitely be in touch."

As Frank turns to leave, he pauses, then gently pushes Quentin up against his door, kissing him hungrily and earning a gasp of surprise from the younger male. Quentin melts into the kiss, pushing his lips against Frank's and hooking a hand around the back of his neck. Quentin couldn't believe it. He was kissing a boy. An actual boy. He was straight, right? So why did it feel so good to kiss this man he had only met earlier today, when he saved him from death?

Frank trails kisses down to Quentin's neck, making the brunette suck in a breath before whimpering out softly.

"F-Frank....w-we shouldn't...."

Frank pauses, looking up from Quentin's neck. "Why not....?"

Quentin hesitates. He did want Frank to keep going, but he knew it was wrong. They had known each other for less than 24 hours. "It's....just really late. I should get to bed." That was a lie. Quentin hated sleeping. Recently, sleep was the last thing he wanted.

Frank has a look of disappointment on his face, but he obliges. "Alright, I won't push you. Goodnight, Quentin."

Quentin nods, watching Frank turn away and walk down his stairs, sighing heavily and stepping inside his house.

- - - - -

A week passed and Quentin didn't see Frank at all. Soon, he began to think maybe he thought the whole thing up; maybe the lack of sleep was finally getting to him. He decides to take a walk at night; nothing really scared him anymore. He breathes in the cold night air, enjoying the silence when he hears a shout from inside a nearby store. Quentin frowns and makes his way in the direction of the sound, trying to peer in through the store's windows, but it was way too dark for him to see anything but slight movement in the shadows. A bad feeling sinks in his gut, and he slips to the back door, slowly opening the door and stepping in. He walks towards the center of the store, and once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he gasps. Laying on the ground in a pool of blood was an employee of the store, dead. And looming over him was Frank, bloodied and clutching a knife in his hand, surrounded by three others wearing strange masks. Quentin clasps a hand over his mouth, withholding a scream as his eyes tear up in fear.

The other male, who stands much taller than Quentin, starts walking towards the brunette, growling through his mask. "Looks like we'll have to kill another...."

Frank rips off his mask, dropping the knife. "Wait, don't hurt him, Joey!"

Joey pauses, looking back towards Frank. "You know him?"

"Yeah...." Frank looks to Quentin with an awkward smile, taking a step towards him, stepping right into the blood on the floor. "Hey, Quent.....It's okay....We won't hurt you...."

Quentin backs up against a stack of boxes, letting out a scared sob. "Y-you're a murderer!!"

A woman standing near Joey hisses through her mask. "Shut him up! He's gonna get us caught!"

Frank shoots her a glare, walking closer to Quentin and standing in front of him. "Remember our date....? Remember how you saved me?" Quentin eyes him warily, and Frank lowers his voice so only he can hear. "Remember our kiss? If you and I were together, we'd be unbeatable....We could do anything, Quent...." Frank cups Quentin's cheek in his hand, his thumb wiping away his tears. "Just trust me, baby...."

Quentin is quiet for a moment before he nods, swallowing hard. "Okay...okay....I trust you...."

Frank nods, placing a kiss on Quentin's forehead. "Good boy...." He turns back to the others, clearing his throat. "Let's clean this up before anyone else comes along." He grabs a mop and hands it to a shy girl with pink hair, the only one who hadn't said anything the whole time. Quentin simply watches the four of them work, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat burning.

After about an hour, the store is cleaned and the body of the employee is stashed in the trunk of Frank's car. They all pile in, Quentin squished between the two girls in the backseat, and they drive up to an abandoned ski lodge.

"This is where we'll bury him."

They all get out of the car, and once they start digging, Quentin looks back to the woods nearby, hesitating before shoving Julie out of the way, sprinting to the trees. Julie falls to the ground with a grunt, and Frank looks up at Quentin with a gasp. Joey starts moving after him, but Frank pushes a hand to his chest.

"I got him, just keep digging!" Frank runs after Quentin, his eyes scanning the trees for the smaller male. He finally catches a glimpse of him and pushes himself to run faster, tackling Quentin to the ground. Frank pins him to the grass, panting and gazing down at him.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Quentin, but I need you to behave!"

Quentin tries to struggle against his grip, snarling. "I'm not like you! I'm not a killer!"

Just as Frank begins to respond, the environment shifts. It falls silent, except for the soft creaking of wood and wind through the leaves of trees.

The Entity had chosen them.

Chapter Text

I have so many requests right now I need to catch up on, so for a little while, requests are gonna be closed! But don't worry, they'll definitely open back up once I get these done!

If you've commented before the day I post this (May 3), your request will be taken and written!

People who requested that I will write for within the next few days:
- Lurch
- Jason
- Fish
- Califu
- CatLikeDogs123

If you DO still request one while I'm closed, just keep in mind it's gonna take me a while to get to it. If you don't mind waiting, then go ahead and leave your request! I'll delete this part once I open back up!

I never thought I'd actually get requests, so thank you guys so much for the support! I love writing your suggestions!