Dreamer

Halloween weekend started with rain, cold freezing sheets of rain that seemed endless. Just a steady downpour that painted the streets silver and turns the world outside into a hazy watercolor. It was kind of weather that makes staying home feel less like a choice and more like a requirement. And for once, neither you nor Gator have anywhere to be. No shifts, no overtime, and no emergencies, just two days off together.

You spend most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of Gator's hoodies while he sprawls beside you in a pair of grey cargo sweatpants with his boots kicked off onto the floor. A collection of low grade horror movies is stacked on the coffee table. Some empty takeout containers already littering the floor surrounding the couch.

Gator grabs another DVD from the pile, smirks at you and wiggles his eyebrows. "This one next." You squint at the cover, it looks like it was designed by someone with a low budget, way too much fake blood, and a deep love of slasher movies from the early 2000s. The killer stands front and center on the cover, an almost comically large kitchen knife covered in what looks like red paint held above his head. "Nope, not that one." Judging by the cover, the movie is poorly made but for some reason, fear still starts to bubble low in your gut. Gator pouts at you playfully. "Gator, no. The last three movies involved people getting stabbed by some freak in a mask." He moves so that he’s laying almost entirely on top of your body, his head rubbing against your chest through your sweatshirt. "Yeah doll, that’s kinda the point." You roll your eyes at him lovingly while shaking your head. "You're impossible." As he looks up at you, a smug grin spreads on his handsome face. "Love you too."

The movie marathon continues well into the evening. At some point his hands wander under the hem of your sweatshirt and settle just above your ribs, right below the swell of your breasts. You feel goosebumps start to rise all over your body as his hands move higher, cupping your breasts in his large hands. A small, breathy sigh leaves your lips as he takes your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them until they form hard peaks. 

He looks up at you, an innocent smile gracing his lips, while tugging lightly on the hem, you nod, biting your lip and moving to take the hoodie the rest of the way off. Once your top half is bare, he looks down at you with lust filled eyes, pupils blown wide. “So perfect for me, baby” He leans down and without breaking eye contact, licks a stripe from the bottom of your breast until he reaches your nipple. Greedily, he takes it into his mouth and starts his process of sucking, biting, and licking all over, kneading the other with his hand, before switching to the other side, making sure to give both equal attention. You let out a low moan as he harshly sucks a mark onto your chest, he responds by rolling his hips into yours in a way that almost has you seeing stars.

You feel yourself growing wetter and more desperate each second that he grinds his achingly hard cock against your clothed core. He’s lets out a surprised noise when you grab his head and pull his mouth up to yours, no longer able to keep yourself from licking into his mouth. As you reach down between your bodies and begin to palm his bulge, Gator breaks away from your kiss to rasp against your lips. “I guess those scary movies got you all worked up too, that right?” You nod against his lips and move to pull your shorts and underwear off while he tears his shirt from over his head. 

Before you can reach to start pulling his pants off too, he grabs you by the jaw and forces your mouth open. You know what he wants without having to say anything else, and god, you want it just as badly. He lets a string of spit fall from his mouth into yours, and lets out a filthy groan as you swallow it without hesitation. “You like that mama?” Your hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to find him rock hard and leaking precum from his tip. “Yeah, but not as much as you seemed to, baby.” You start to slowly stroke him from root to tip, smearing his precum along his length as you do so. He lets out a choked sound and then chuckles breathily, nodding down at you. 

His fingers find their way to your dripping core, absolutely desperate for some friction and attention. Your cunt clenches around nothing as he slowly runs the tips of his fingers through your soaked folds. He hums against your mouth “Mmm so wet. This all for me?” Before roughly thrusting two of his fingers into your aching hole. A shaky moan is punched out of your lungs. The two of you stay like that for another minute, maybe two, just feeling each other and letting moans and sighs travel between your mouths. 

As his fingers curl inside, he hits a spot in you that causes you to gasp against his lips. “Gator, I need you” That’s all it takes for him to pull his soaked fingers from you and slurp them clean, moving to prop your thighs open. He pushes into you in a single, rolling thrust, making pornographic moans fall from both of your mouths. Your breath catches in your throat as you adjust to his thick cock splitting you open. 

The crappy slasher movie plays on, the killer finally making his big reveal, but it falls on unlistening ears and unseeing eyes. All you can see, hear, or feel is Gator above you, inside of you, murmuring filthy praises into your ear as he thrusts into you incessantly. He was right, you were so worked up that you’re reaching your end much faster than expected, and he can feel it. You wrap your legs tighter around his hips, forcing him to go in even deeper, hitting that spot that nobody and nothing else had ever reached. With each thrust, your moans and his groans are growing louder and louder, bouncing off the walls. 

His thrusts start to grow faster and slightly erratic, and before you can do it, one of his hands reaches down and starts rubbing fast circles against your clit. “Come on baby, I want to see you cum on my cock.” His dirty words are the final push you needed to fall apart, as your walls clench and pulse around him you can feel him fighting off his orgasm. You reach up and take his face in your hands, your voice comes out breathy and broken up by moans as he helps you continue to ride out your orgasm. “Please Gator, I need you to fill me up baby” He lets out a ragged moan, kisses you roughly and immediately buries himself deep as your cunt milks his cock. 

The two of you lay just like that a while, lazily kissing each other and basking in the afterglow. You break the kiss to look into his eyes. “I love you, Gator” He’s smiling down at you with that lovestruck look he gets sometimes, just in complete awe of you. “I love you with all I got. How’d a screw up like me get someone as perfect as you, huh?” You just shook your head at him with a soft smile and gave him one last kiss to his lips before he moved to pull out and settle behind you on the couch. 

You feel completely content, you’re safe, happy, naked and warm in the arms of the man you love. Which is exactly why Gator decides to become a menace. The first prank happens around midnight. You pull Gator’s baggy sweatshirt back on and leave the living room to grab another drink.

When you return with a glass of water for yourself and a beer for Gator, all the lights are off. The television has gone dark, the house is utterly silent and still. "Very funny," you call out sarcastically. There’s no response.

You narrow your eyes in the darkness, but all you can make out is the empty couch with the blanket crumpled by the armrest and your clothes still scattered on the floor. "Gator." You drawl out his name in a warning tone, as a way to tell him ‘enough, I'm not playing this game’. But there’s still nothing. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you feel a chill flow over your body. You know he's just messing with you. You know it. But the darkness still feels wrong, the stark silence feels wrong. You carefully step into the room, tiptoeing as if that will keep everything from slipping into chaos.

"Gator?" A hand reaches out and grabs your ankle from beneath the couch. You scream so loudly your own ears ring, your whole body jerks and somehow you manage not to spill either of the drinks in your hands. Gator bursts into a gasping, howling laughter. You immediately kick him, hard. "OW!" He shimmies out from under the couch, clad in his black boxers and socks. "You asshole!" He continues laughing while clutching his shoulder. "Oh my God, you should see your face." You glare at him with glassy eyes, still shaking from his little jumpscare. "I seriously hate you." He looks at you with a nearly sympathetic smile, still finding some humor in how scared you were. "You absolutely do not." And unfortunately, he's right. That only encourages him.

Over the next two weeks, Gator becomes increasingly creative and, in your opinion, very annoying. First a large plastic spider in your lunch bag, then a fake severed hand in the bathroom sink, complete with enough fake blood to fill the bathtub. The motion-activated skeleton hidden inside the closet scared you so badly, you swore your heart stopped in your chest. And every time you think you've survived the worst of it, another prank appears. You threaten murder, and he finds that hilarious.

One evening you come home after a grueling twelve-hour shift to discover a figure standing motionless in the hallway. You nearly have a heart attack, but then the figure begins laughing, and Gator removes the cheap Halloween mask. You throw a pillow at him, groaning in annoyance. "You fucker! What if I actually died?" He chuckles lowly at your wide eyed panic. "You didn't." If looks could kill, Gator would be six-feet under because of the glare you had fixed on him. "What if I did?" He shrugs, pulling off the mask fully and tossing it onto the table in the hall. "Then I'd feel real bad." You cross your arms over your chest and keep your glare fixed on his eyes. He pulls you against him and his laughter softens. "You'd haunt me." He plants a firm kiss to the crown of your head as you lean into his chest. "Damn right."

You meant it as a joke, but neither of you realize just how much those words will bother him later. By the second week of November, the pranks have become a little routine. It would almost be endearing if you didn’t find them so annoying and predictable. But you know Gator, you know the way he thinks and moves, and how he can’t stop himself from laughing before he can fully pull off the prank. You know every one of his stupid tricks, all of his ridiculous scare tactics. You’ve already seen every exaggerated attempt to make you scream.

So when the night arrives, your first instinct isn't fear, it's irritation. The double shift nearly kills you. The emergency department at Stark County Memorial Hospital is overflowing. You're already short-staffed, then someone calls out sick. Just when your night is starting to feel like it can’t get worse, a trauma patient arrives twenty minutes before your shift ends. Then another, then somehow another. By the time you've finally clocked out, the exhaustion has settled in you bone deep, like someone injected wet cement into your veins.

It is nearly midnight when you leave the hospital and make your way into the parking deck next door. Everyone on your shift had already left, making the section of the parking garage almost completely empty. Concrete pillars stretch into the shadows, and the flickering fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Your footsteps echo loudly through the desolate concrete structure, you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. All you want is sleep, food, and your big, warm boyfriend’s arms around you. Preferably all of those things, but not necessarily in that order.

Your car is parked on the fourth level of the parking deck. As you step off the elevator and walk in the direction of your car, you root through your purse to grab your keys, trying to make the process of getting home as fast as possible.

When you look up you stop walking, because a figure stands beside your vehicle. Motionless and waiting. Your eyes immediately narrow. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me." The figure doesn't move a muscle. The familiar black-and-white mask gleams beneath the overhead lights. Jack Skellington. The same stupid mask Gator bought weeks ago, the same mask he wore to scare you twice already. You bark out a sarcastic laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's ridiculous.

You pull out your phone and the figure remains completely still. The screen reflects your tired face as you go to call Gator, he answers on the second ring. "Hey, baby." You can hear the smile on his face, you roll your eyes and snort. "Real funny." There’s a long pause. "What?" Gator sounds confused and maybe just as tired as you are. "Seriously?" You’re growing annoyed and a little impatient. "What are you talking about?" He sounds even more lost than before. 

You start walking toward your car, toward the figure. "You really followed me to work for this?" He sounds almost dumb in his confusion, like he really doesn't have a clue what you’re talking about. "Followed you?" Irritation seeps through your tone. "You know what? This isn't even scary anymore." He makes a dejected noise before scoffing confused into the phone. But the figure remains silent, completely still and watching. Your irritation grows. "I'm serious, Gator. That's creepy as fuck."

Gator sounds almost annoyed when he asks, "What is?"

"Take off that mask or I swear I'm not touching you for a week." Several seconds pass between the two of you. Then: "...What mask?" You come to a complete stop. Something about his tone feels wrong. Not playful or teasing, like he’s really genuinely confused. You laugh again, less confidently, nerves starting to seep in and cloud your mind. "Okay, enough."

Concern immediately fills the space that confusion was taking up in his voice. "Baby, what's going on?" You stare at the figure. The figure stares back. "You're in that damn Jack Skellington mask standing by my car." Silence, just a heavy, terrible silence. Then you hear Gator inhale sharply. "Baby..." The irritation immediately drains from your body, a strange chill replaces it. "Gator?" You can hear him sit up straighter in the seat of his patrol car. "That isn't me." You don't respond yet, you can’t, your body is paralyzed with fear.

The figure still hasn't moved, still hasn't spoken. Your pulse begins climbing and your mind begins racing. If that isn’t Gator by your car… "Gator?" His tone is deep and authoritative when he answers. "Go back inside the hospital." For a second, you think you’re imagining all of this, that somehow Gator’s pranks have reached your subconscious and this is all a bad dream you need to be woken up from. "What?" You can hear the sirens from his patrol car coming through the phone, the rev of his engine as he speeds to get to you. "Go. Now." A knot forms in your stomach, your blood runs cold in your veins. "What are you talking about?"

"Get back inside." His voice sounds different, it’s sharper, scared. "Gator–"

"Do not go near your car." The figure tilts its head, very slowly, like a predator locking in on its prey just before the hunt begins. The movement is unnatural, curious and animalistic. Every instinct in your body suddenly screams. Run, you need to run, you need to move. "Gator..."

"Listen to me." The panic in his voice is unmistakable now. "Go back into the hospital and don't leave until I come inside to get you." You slowly take a step backward. The figure takes one forward, matching the pace you’ve set. Your heart stops in your chest, your voice comes out small and afraid. "Gator–" A tear runs down your cheek before you can even register that you’ve started crying. "Run."

The figure lunges forward aggressively. Everything happens at once. You scream as the hand grabs your arm so tightly you’re sure there will be fingerprints left behind. You twist violently in the hold, managing to slip your arm through your sleeve. Concrete rushes beneath your feet. The scream of his name tears from your lungs violently. "GATOR!" His voice explodes back through the speaker. "BABY?!"

You fight, at least you try to. Your instincts takes over, trying to do anything to free yourself and get out of this situation. There aren’t many thoughts going through your mind just pure survival instincts. You drive your elbow backward, it connects with something solid. The figure grunts, it’s not a monster, not a ghost, just a person, a real person. Terror floods through your body alongside adrenaline. You manage to rip free and start running like your life depends on it, because it does. Footsteps thunder behind you, gaining on you, getting closer every second, faster with every breath that escapes you.

Your shoe catches on a patch of uneven concrete, and you stumble hard, ankle twisting unnaturally in the process. Pain erupts through your foot and your phone falls from your hand onto the concrete beneath you, it skids a few feet away. Your steps falter for just a second but it’s enough, a hand grabs your the back of your scrub shirt.

You scream again, a deep, desperate sound that echoes in the space around you. Somewhere through the chaos you hear Gator’s muffled voice shouting your name through the phone. Then nothing, the line dies. All you can hear are your own desperate sobs and the heavy breathing of the person attacking you from behind the mask. And your world suddenly goes dark.

Gator breaks nearly every traffic law on the way to the hospital. The drive feels like hours even if it was probably only five minutes, maybe even less. Every slow-moving vehicle becomes an obstacle, every turn becomes a setback.

He calls your phone repeatedly, but there’s no answer. Again. No answer. Again. Nothing.

The fear building inside him is unlike anything he has ever experienced. And Gator knows fear, he's spent his entire life around violence, surrounded by threats, surrounded by people who disappear, and people who can make other people disappear. But this is different, this is you, Gator’s girl. The person who somehow became the center of his universe, his everything. The person who turned a house into a home. The person who taught him what peace felt like. But now you're gone, whoever took you away from him took his peace, and it won’t come back until you’re safe in his arms again.

By the time he reaches the parking garage, his hands are shaking violently. He speeds through the floors so quickly that he nearly crashes into parked cars and concrete pillars. Level one. Level two. Level three. Level four. Then he sees it.

Your phone, completely shattered. Parts lying crushed across the concrete. For one terrible second his brain refuses to process what he's looking at. Until he sees your purse. The contents are scattered everywhere. Your keys, wallet, lip balm, even your hospital badge with your cute little smiling face in the center. All thrown haphazardly across the ground.

"GOD DAMMIT!" His voice echoes through the empty garage. There is no response and no movement. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back at him like a cruel taunt.

Then he notices something else, in his stupor he hadn’t seen it before. One shoe, lying on its side, your shoe. Sitting several feet away, abandoned. Like evidence, proof, or the remnants of something awful happening to the woman he loves. The sight nearly destroys him. He picks it up with trembling fingers and the parking garage suddenly feels enormous, endless, a silent void. It feels like there are threats looming in the shadows, every corner feeling like someone in lurking just behind it waiting to trap him. His chest tightens. Not because he doesn't know what happened to you, but because he does. Someone made a plan, watched, waited, and then took you from him. And now you're gone.

The realization settles like poison. Gator stares at your shoe. His jaw clenches. His breathing becomes erratic and uneven, starting to quickly spiral into a full blown panic.

Then he notices something painted on one of the concrete pillars nearby. A small black symbol, nearly hidden and drawn in fresh paint. It’s crooked smiling face. Jack Skellington. For a moment his entire world stops, because Gator knows that mask. What he had been treating as dumb jokes, little things to scare you. Someone had been watching the two of you, someone knew your routine.

A cold pang of horror and dread shoots down his spine. He knows the timing, knows the weeks of stupid pranks. This wasn't random at all, it wasn’t some insane coincidence. The sicko waiting for you by your car had chosen that mask on purpose, they wanted you to think it was just your boyfriend. They wanted you to lower your guard, come in closer, make it easier to capture you. It had worked, and it was all Gator’s fault. Gator feels sick, the guilt hits harder than fear. Harder than the anger. Because if he hadn't spent two weeks turning everything into a joke, scaring you just to have you jump into his arms for comfort afterwards…

If he hadn't made the masks and jump scares normal– Maybe you would have run immediately. Maybe you would have recognized the danger sooner. The thought nearly crushes him. "No." His voice is raw and broken. "No." 

He closes his eyes.

For one brief second he sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels your hand slipping into his. And as quickly as the comfort of you came, the image disappears, and he’s back to the hellscape that is his new reality. Your sweet laughter is replaced by silence, your hand holding his is replaced by the emptiness between his clenched fingers, the image of you and the love he has for you is replaced by the unbearable emptiness of not knowing where you are.

Gator opens his eyes again. Something has changed within him, the panic and fear remains, but beneath it sits something colder, something much sharper, much more dangerous. Determination. The person who took you made one mistake, they left you alive long enough to fight, long enough to scream, long enough to leave evidence for Gator.

And that means they must still be out there. Still breathing your air somewhere, still walking around thinking they might have gotten away with it. They are wrong. Gator stares into the darkness of the parking garage and his grip tightens around your shoe. For the first time all night, his expression becomes completely emotionless. The kind of expression people fear instinctually, it’s the kind of expression that appears when something inside him shuts off.

"Please be okay."

His words are a desperate plea to the universe and the words disappear into the darkness and no answer comes back. Only the buzzing of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead, only empty concrete, only that heavy silence.

But somewhere beyond the garage walls, beyond the city lights, beyond the reach of anyone searching for you, someone is holding their breath. Because they have no idea what they've just started. Gator would go to hell and back to have you safe in his arms again.

part 2

Halloween weekend started with rain, cold freezing sheets of rain that seemed endless. Just a steady downpour that painted the streets silver and turns the world outside into a hazy watercolor. It was kind of weather that makes staying home feel less like a choice and more like a requirement. And for once, neither you nor Gator have anywhere to be. No shifts, no overtime, and no emergencies, just two days off together.

You spend most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of Gator's hoodies while he sprawls beside you in a pair of grey cargo sweatpants with his boots kicked off onto the floor. A collection of low grade horror movies is stacked on the coffee table. Some empty takeout containers already littering the floor surrounding the couch.

Gator grabs another DVD from the pile, smirks at you and wiggles his eyebrows. "This one next." You squint at the cover, it looks like it was designed by someone with a low budget, way too much fake blood, and a deep love of slasher movies from the early 2000s. The killer stands front and center on the cover, an almost comically large kitchen knife covered in what looks like red paint held above his head. "Nope, not that one." Judging by the cover, the movie is poorly made but for some reason, fear still starts to bubble low in your gut. Gator pouts at you playfully. "Gator, no. The last three movies involved people getting stabbed by some freak in a mask." He moves so that he’s laying almost entirely on top of your body, his head rubbing against your chest through your sweatshirt. "Yeah doll, that’s kinda the point." You roll your eyes at him lovingly while shaking your head. "You're impossible." As he looks up at you, a smug grin spreads on his handsome face. "Love you too."

The movie marathon continues well into the evening. At some point his hands wander under the hem of your sweatshirt and settle just above your ribs, right below the swell of your breasts. You feel goosebumps start to rise all over your body as his hands move higher, cupping your breasts in his large hands. A small, breathy sigh leaves your lips as he takes your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them until they form hard peaks. 

He looks up at you, an innocent smile gracing his lips, while tugging lightly on the hem, you nod, biting your lip and moving to take the hoodie the rest of the way off. Once your top half is bare, he looks down at you with lust filled eyes, pupils blown wide. “So perfect for me, baby” He leans down and without breaking eye contact, licks a stripe from the bottom of your breast until he reaches your nipple. Greedily, he takes it into his mouth and starts his process of sucking, biting, and licking all over, kneading the other with his hand, before switching to the other side, making sure to give both equal attention. You let out a low moan as he harshly sucks a mark onto your chest, he responds by rolling his hips into yours in a way that almost has you seeing stars.

You feel yourself growing wetter and more desperate each second that he grinds his achingly hard cock against your clothed core. He’s lets out a surprised noise when you grab his head and pull his mouth up to yours, no longer able to keep yourself from licking into his mouth. As you reach down between your bodies and begin to palm his bulge, Gator breaks away from your kiss to rasp against your lips. “I guess those scary movies got you all worked up too, that right?” You nod against his lips and move to pull your shorts and underwear off while he tears his shirt from over his head. 

Before you can reach to start pulling his pants off too, he grabs you by the jaw and forces your mouth open. You know what he wants without having to say anything else, and god, you want it just as badly. He lets a string of spit fall from his mouth into yours, and lets out a filthy groan as you swallow it without hesitation. “You like that mama?” Your hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to find him rock hard and leaking precum from his tip. “Yeah, but not as much as you seemed to, baby.” You start to slowly stroke him from root to tip, smearing his precum along his length as you do so. He lets out a choked sound and then chuckles breathily, nodding down at you. 

His fingers find their way to your dripping core, absolutely desperate for some friction and attention. Your cunt clenches around nothing as he slowly runs the tips of his fingers through your soaked folds. He hums against your mouth “Mmm so wet. This all for me?” Before roughly thrusting two of his fingers into your aching hole. A shaky moan is punched out of your lungs. The two of you stay like that for another minute, maybe two, just feeling each other and letting moans and sighs travel between your mouths. 

As his fingers curl inside, he hits a spot in you that causes you to gasp against his lips. “Gator, I need you” That’s all it takes for him to pull his soaked fingers from you and slurp them clean, moving to prop your thighs open. He pushes into you in a single, rolling thrust, making pornographic moans fall from both of your mouths. Your breath catches in your throat as you adjust to his thick cock splitting you open. 

The crappy slasher movie plays on, the killer finally making his big reveal, but it falls on unlistening ears and unseeing eyes. All you can see, hear, or feel is Gator above you, inside of you, murmuring filthy praises into your ear as he thrusts into you incessantly. He was right, you were so worked up that you’re reaching your end much faster than expected, and he can feel it. You wrap your legs tighter around his hips, forcing him to go in even deeper, hitting that spot that nobody and nothing else had ever reached. With each thrust, your moans and his groans are growing louder and louder, bouncing off the walls. 

His thrusts start to grow faster and slightly erratic, and before you can do it, one of his hands reaches down and starts rubbing fast circles against your clit. “Come on baby, I want to see you cum on my cock.” His dirty words are the final push you needed to fall apart, as your walls clench and pulse around him you can feel him fighting off his orgasm. You reach up and take his face in your hands, your voice comes out breathy and broken up by moans as he helps you continue to ride out your orgasm. “Please Gator, I need you to fill me up baby” He lets out a ragged moan, kisses you roughly and immediately buries himself deep as your cunt milks his cock. 

The two of you lay just like that a while, lazily kissing each other and basking in the afterglow. You break the kiss to look into his eyes. “I love you, Gator” He’s smiling down at you with that lovestruck look he gets sometimes, just in complete awe of you. “I love you with all I got. How’d a screw up like me get someone as perfect as you, huh?” You just shook your head at him with a soft smile and gave him one last kiss to his lips before he moved to pull out and settle behind you on the couch. 

You feel completely content, you’re safe, happy, naked and warm in the arms of the man you love. Which is exactly why Gator decides to become a menace. The first prank happens around midnight. You pull Gator’s baggy sweatshirt back on and leave the living room to grab another drink.

When you return with a glass of water for yourself and a beer for Gator, all the lights are off. The television has gone dark, the house is utterly silent and still. "Very funny," you call out sarcastically. There’s no response.

You narrow your eyes in the darkness, but all you can make out is the empty couch with the blanket crumpled by the armrest and your clothes still scattered on the floor. "Gator." You drawl out his name in a warning tone, as a way to tell him ‘enough, I'm not playing this game’. But there’s still nothing. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you feel a chill flow over your body. You know he's just messing with you. You know it. But the darkness still feels wrong, the stark silence feels wrong. You carefully step into the room, tiptoeing as if that will keep everything from slipping into chaos.

"Gator?" A hand reaches out and grabs your ankle from beneath the couch. You scream so loudly your own ears ring, your whole body jerks and somehow you manage not to spill either of the drinks in your hands. Gator bursts into a gasping, howling laughter. You immediately kick him, hard. "OW!" He shimmies out from under the couch, clad in his black boxers and socks. "You asshole!" He continues laughing while clutching his shoulder. "Oh my God, you should see your face." You glare at him with glassy eyes, still shaking from his little jumpscare. "I seriously hate you." He looks at you with a nearly sympathetic smile, still finding some humor in how scared you were. "You absolutely do not." And unfortunately, he's right. That only encourages him.

Over the next two weeks, Gator becomes increasingly creative and, in your opinion, very annoying. First a large plastic spider in your lunch bag, then a fake severed hand in the bathroom sink, complete with enough fake blood to fill the bathtub. The motion-activated skeleton hidden inside the closet scared you so badly, you swore your heart stopped in your chest. And every time you think you've survived the worst of it, another prank appears. You threaten murder, and he finds that hilarious.

One evening you come home after a grueling twelve-hour shift to discover a figure standing motionless in the hallway. You nearly have a heart attack, but then the figure begins laughing, and Gator removes the cheap Halloween mask. You throw a pillow at him, groaning in annoyance. "You fucker! What if I actually died?" He chuckles lowly at your wide eyed panic. "You didn't." If looks could kill, Gator would be six-feet under because of the glare you had fixed on him. "What if I did?" He shrugs, pulling off the mask fully and tossing it onto the table in the hall. "Then I'd feel real bad." You cross your arms over your chest and keep your glare fixed on his eyes. He pulls you against him and his laughter softens. "You'd haunt me." He plants a firm kiss to the crown of your head as you lean into his chest. "Damn right."

You meant it as a joke, but neither of you realize just how much those words will bother him later. By the second week of November, the pranks have become a little routine. It would almost be endearing if you didn’t find them so annoying and predictable. But you know Gator, you know the way he thinks and moves, and how he can’t stop himself from laughing before he can fully pull off the prank. You know every one of his stupid tricks, all of his ridiculous scare tactics. You’ve already seen every exaggerated attempt to make you scream.

So when the night arrives, your first instinct isn't fear, it's irritation. The double shift nearly kills you. The emergency department at Stark County Memorial Hospital is overflowing. You're already short-staffed, then someone calls out sick. Just when your night is starting to feel like it can’t get worse, a trauma patient arrives twenty minutes before your shift ends. Then another, then somehow another. By the time you've finally clocked out, the exhaustion has settled in you bone deep, like someone injected wet cement into your veins.

It is nearly midnight when you leave the hospital and make your way into the parking deck next door. Everyone on your shift had already left, making the section of the parking garage almost completely empty. Concrete pillars stretch into the shadows, and the flickering fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Your footsteps echo loudly through the desolate concrete structure, you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. All you want is sleep, food, and your big, warm boyfriend’s arms around you. Preferably all of those things, but not necessarily in that order.

Your car is parked on the fourth level of the parking deck. As you step off the elevator and walk in the direction of your car, you root through your purse to grab your keys, trying to make the process of getting home as fast as possible.

When you look up you stop walking, because a figure stands beside your vehicle. Motionless and waiting. Your eyes immediately narrow. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me." The figure doesn't move a muscle. The familiar black-and-white mask gleams beneath the overhead lights. Jack Skellington. The same stupid mask Gator bought weeks ago, the same mask he wore to scare you twice already. You bark out a sarcastic laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's ridiculous.

You pull out your phone and the figure remains completely still. The screen reflects your tired face as you go to call Gator, he answers on the second ring. "Hey, baby." You can hear the smile on his face, you roll your eyes and snort. "Real funny." There’s a long pause. "What?" Gator sounds confused and maybe just as tired as you are. "Seriously?" You’re growing annoyed and a little impatient. "What are you talking about?" He sounds even more lost than before. 

You start walking toward your car, toward the figure. "You really followed me to work for this?" He sounds almost dumb in his confusion, like he really doesn't have a clue what you’re talking about. "Followed you?" Irritation seeps through your tone. "You know what? This isn't even scary anymore." He makes a dejected noise before scoffing confused into the phone. But the figure remains silent, completely still and watching. Your irritation grows. "I'm serious, Gator. That's creepy as fuck."

Gator sounds almost annoyed when he asks, "What is?"

"Take off that mask or I swear I'm not touching you for a week." Several seconds pass between the two of you. Then: "...What mask?" You come to a complete stop. Something about his tone feels wrong. Not playful or teasing, like he’s really genuinely confused. You laugh again, less confidently, nerves starting to seep in and cloud your mind. "Okay, enough."

Concern immediately fills the space that confusion was taking up in his voice. "Baby, what's going on?" You stare at the figure. The figure stares back. "You're in that damn Jack Skellington mask standing by my car." Silence, just a heavy, terrible silence. Then you hear Gator inhale sharply. "Baby..." The irritation immediately drains from your body, a strange chill replaces it. "Gator?" You can hear him sit up straighter in the seat of his patrol car. "That isn't me." You don't respond yet, you can’t, your body is paralyzed with fear.

The figure still hasn't moved, still hasn't spoken. Your pulse begins climbing and your mind begins racing. If that isn’t Gator by your car… "Gator?" His tone is deep and authoritative when he answers. "Go back inside the hospital." For a second, you think you’re imagining all of this, that somehow Gator’s pranks have reached your subconscious and this is all a bad dream you need to be woken up from. "What?" You can hear the sirens from his patrol car coming through the phone, the rev of his engine as he speeds to get to you. "Go. Now." A knot forms in your stomach, your blood runs cold in your veins. "What are you talking about?"

"Get back inside." His voice sounds different, it’s sharper, scared. "Gator–"

"Do not go near your car." The figure tilts its head, very slowly, like a predator locking in on its prey just before the hunt begins. The movement is unnatural, curious and animalistic. Every instinct in your body suddenly screams. Run, you need to run, you need to move. "Gator..."

"Listen to me." The panic in his voice is unmistakable now. "Go back into the hospital and don't leave until I come inside to get you." You slowly take a step backward. The figure takes one forward, matching the pace you’ve set. Your heart stops in your chest, your voice comes out small and afraid. "Gator–" A tear runs down your cheek before you can even register that you’ve started crying. "Run."

The figure lunges forward aggressively. Everything happens at once. You scream as the hand grabs your arm so tightly you’re sure there will be fingerprints left behind. You twist violently in the hold, managing to slip your arm through your sleeve. Concrete rushes beneath your feet. The scream of his name tears from your lungs violently. "GATOR!" His voice explodes back through the speaker. "BABY?!"

You fight, at least you try to. Your instincts takes over, trying to do anything to free yourself and get out of this situation. There aren’t many thoughts going through your mind just pure survival instincts. You drive your elbow backward, it connects with something solid. The figure grunts, it’s not a monster, not a ghost, just a person, a real person. Terror floods through your body alongside adrenaline. You manage to rip free and start running like your life depends on it, because it does. Footsteps thunder behind you, gaining on you, getting closer every second, faster with every breath that escapes you.

Your shoe catches on a patch of uneven concrete, and you stumble hard, ankle twisting unnaturally in the process. Pain erupts through your foot and your phone falls from your hand onto the concrete beneath you, it skids a few feet away. Your steps falter for just a second but it’s enough, a hand grabs your the back of your scrub shirt.

You scream again, a deep, desperate sound that echoes in the space around you. Somewhere through the chaos you hear Gator’s muffled voice shouting your name through the phone. Then nothing, the line dies. All you can hear are your own desperate sobs and the heavy breathing of the person attacking you from behind the mask. And your world suddenly goes dark.

Gator breaks nearly every traffic law on the way to the hospital. The drive feels like hours even if it was probably only five minutes, maybe even less. Every slow-moving vehicle becomes an obstacle, every turn becomes a setback.

He calls your phone repeatedly, but there’s no answer. Again. No answer. Again. Nothing.

The fear building inside him is unlike anything he has ever experienced. And Gator knows fear, he's spent his entire life around violence, surrounded by threats, surrounded by people who disappear, and people who can make other people disappear. But this is different, this is you, Gator’s girl. The person who somehow became the center of his universe, his everything. The person who turned a house into a home. The person who taught him what peace felt like. But now you're gone, whoever took you away from him took his peace, and it won’t come back until you’re safe in his arms again.

By the time he reaches the parking garage, his hands are shaking violently. He speeds through the floors so quickly that he nearly crashes into parked cars and concrete pillars. Level one. Level two. Level three. Level four. Then he sees it.

Your phone, completely shattered. Parts lying crushed across the concrete. For one terrible second his brain refuses to process what he's looking at. Until he sees your purse. The contents are scattered everywhere. Your keys, wallet, lip balm, even your hospital badge with your cute little smiling face in the center. All thrown haphazardly across the ground.

"GOD DAMMIT!" His voice echoes through the empty garage. There is no response and no movement. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back at him like a cruel taunt.

Then he notices something else, in his stupor he hadn’t seen it before. One shoe, lying on its side, your shoe. Sitting several feet away, abandoned. Like evidence, proof, or the remnants of something awful happening to the woman he loves. The sight nearly destroys him. He picks it up with trembling fingers and the parking garage suddenly feels enormous, endless, a silent void. It feels like there are threats looming in the shadows, every corner feeling like someone in lurking just behind it waiting to trap him. His chest tightens. Not because he doesn't know what happened to you, but because he does. Someone made a plan, watched, waited, and then took you from him. And now you're gone.

The realization settles like poison. Gator stares at your shoe. His jaw clenches. His breathing becomes erratic and uneven, starting to quickly spiral into a full blown panic.

Then he notices something painted on one of the concrete pillars nearby. A small black symbol, nearly hidden and drawn in fresh paint. It’s crooked smiling face. Jack Skellington. For a moment his entire world stops, because Gator knows that mask. What he had been treating as dumb jokes, little things to scare you. Someone had been watching the two of you, someone knew your routine.

A cold pang of horror and dread shoots down his spine. He knows the timing, knows the weeks of stupid pranks. This wasn't random at all, it wasn’t some insane coincidence. The sicko waiting for you by your car had chosen that mask on purpose, they wanted you to think it was just your boyfriend. They wanted you to lower your guard, come in closer, make it easier to capture you. It had worked, and it was all Gator’s fault. Gator feels sick, the guilt hits harder than fear. Harder than the anger. Because if he hadn't spent two weeks turning everything into a joke, scaring you just to have you jump into his arms for comfort afterwards…

If he hadn't made the masks and jump scares normal– Maybe you would have run immediately. Maybe you would have recognized the danger sooner. The thought nearly crushes him. "No." His voice is raw and broken. "No." 

He closes his eyes.

For one brief second he sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels your hand slipping into his. And as quickly as the comfort of you came, the image disappears, and he’s back to the hellscape that is his new reality. Your sweet laughter is replaced by silence, your hand holding his is replaced by the emptiness between his clenched fingers, the image of you and the love he has for you is replaced by the unbearable emptiness of not knowing where you are.

Gator opens his eyes again. Something has changed within him, the panic and fear remains, but beneath it sits something colder, something much sharper, much more dangerous. Determination. The person who took you made one mistake, they left you alive long enough to fight, long enough to scream, long enough to leave evidence for Gator.

And that means they must still be out there. Still breathing your air somewhere, still walking around thinking they might have gotten away with it. They are wrong. Gator stares into the darkness of the parking garage and his grip tightens around your shoe. For the first time all night, his expression becomes completely emotionless. The kind of expression people fear instinctually, it’s the kind of expression that appears when something inside him shuts off.

"Please be okay."

His words are a desperate plea to the universe and the words disappear into the darkness and no answer comes back. Only the buzzing of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead, only empty concrete, only that heavy silence.

But somewhere beyond the garage walls, beyond the city lights, beyond the reach of anyone searching for you, someone is holding their breath. Because they have no idea what they've just started. Gator would go to hell and back to have you safe in his arms again.

part 2

Headcanons SFW Dad!Steve NSFW

Blurbs Steve asking you out Hide 'n Seek

Dad!Steve Bubbly Sprinkles Piles of Smiles Eloise's First Christmas

One - shots NSFW The Candle That Burns Deep PT 2 Red Roses and Chocolate Kisses Eden Yellow Daises Impression Weak Let Me Truth or Dare Bratty LoveBug

SFW Pancakes Lemons Sugar and Spice Comfort Study Date Hot and Heavy

Series

Steve x Reader Broken Hearts Club Steve x Daphne Williams Illicit Affairs - REWORKING/EDITING Steve x Kim Mayfield Hungry Eyes Only Exception Mittens Pt 2 Fantasy

Harringrove Work It Out

•Picnic table sex: since there’s a convenient level surface (ground, bench, table), I recommend oral, giving or receiving, your call,  or just making out and grinding, depending on the weather and how horny you are for Eddie on a scale from 95 to 100 ✅

•Tutoring him: he must graduate from that school and flip the bird to that principal ✅

•Eddie teaches you to play guitar: you love his fingers and his rings, and the way he moves them alone makes you wet.  He has good rhythm and vibrato, if you know what I mean 🎻, they go in so deep and curl right where you need them

• Movie theater date: drive-in or regular theater, you watch a movie, Eddie comments and holds your hand through the jump scares, mandatory making out ✅

• Skating/rollerskating/milkshake date: just to annoy everyone around and show you don’t care what people say

• Watching him smoke: you love his hands and his lips and how the smoke leaves his mouth and curls between you (smoking kills, kids) ✅

• Smoking weed with Eddie: shotgun it if you can’t actually smoke (hello, me), get giggly and loose, watch an old comedy, make out, get the munchies, find or make something to eat ✅

• DM throne: straddle him or tie him, or both, blindfold to taste, blow him while he can’t shut up, or ride him till he can’t speak

• School closet: especially if you’re a good girl, let him pull you there and kiss you stupid. Detention optional

• Eddie climbs into your window: he’s done it before, he knows how. The question is, can you be quiet?

• You climb out of your window to sneak out with him: go to the Hideout for his show, or drive to the quarry, or your choice — just be home before morning, Cinderella 

• Trailer sex: Wayne has night shifts/double shifts so you become a regular. Eddie even cleans up a bit, and you can moan as loud as you want when he fucks you into that old mattress ✅

• Van sex: it’s actually pretty nice inside, Eddie keeps blankets there, wipes and water for aftercare, and the best part is it’s always available. My personal favorite is letting him eat you out in there ✅

• Hike + outdoor sex: Skull Rock, anyone? He knows places.  Bring a yoga mat, unless you want to be railed against a tree

• Camping: have to be quiet again (or not), your friends are listening. Cuddle all night in the sleeping bag

• Drug deal sex: you came to buy and left with extras. He’ll give you a discount, flattery works on him, Eddie’s officially admitted it. Don’t forget your baggie, or he’ll know why you really came

• Phone sex: when you can’t go out and see each other, technology helps you stay connected.  Eddie’s a gifted narrator and talks you through it if you need  ✅

• Kitchen table/counter sex: he’s such  an animal, just seeing you cooking for him, or even bending over to grab a couple of beers from the fridge in your tiny shorts, gets him hard. ✅

• Laundry room sex: it’s so boring to watch, and you can only read your book so much, and his cassette only has two sides. You end up on the vibrating washer, and it hits the wall many many times. ✅

• Pool sex: it’s hot, Eddie is hot, and just to gross out Steve (or whoever’s hosting), you fuck by the edge of the pool. Crash a rich person’s pool just because, run away holding hands if you get caught. ✅

• D&D roleplay sex: he can turn it into a quest or an adventure, the best one of your life. But he’s a tease — roll to see how many minutes he edges you. ✅

• Handcuffing you: mandatory, no idea where he got them, he never tells, but you trust him ✅

• Handcuffing him (time to pay Eddie back): he’ll try to resist and you’ll need to force him,  but he’s very willing to be at your mercy (don’t go too hard on our boy)

• Bandana as a blindfold: you or him, food play, ice play or use it as a gag if you’re extra kinky. ✅

• Tattoo adoration: you love his tattoos, trace them, lick them, scratch them gently, name them and he’ll get one dedicated to you. ✅

• Scar adoration: Eddie survives the Upside Down because I say so. He wears his scars like honor badges, and you love tracing them with your fingers, nails, or your tongue. ✅

• Brushing his hair: it takes a while before he’ll let you, but once you get that privilege, you can’t stop. Wash it when you shower together, apply conditioner, have a quickie, rinse off. One time when you’re both stoned, he lets you braid it. No pictures allowed

• Massaging him: mix it with worshipping his tattoos or scars.  Did I mention his nipples are sensitive? Anyway, massage him. You must sit on him while you do it

• Feeding him: real food, please, vegetables too. Take good care of him. He’ll help cook and can do the dishes ✅✅✅

• Medical care: Eddie's miserable with a 101° fever. Hot tea with lemon and rum, honey, raspberry jam, chicken soup, and his favorite movies. Hot foot bath and mustard patches if you want to be extra

• Hideout hookup: meeting him at the bar during or after a Corroded Coffin show, leaving his van there and driving him back to your place or a motel, stopping at every solid surface to make out along the way ✅

• Boathouse/Rick’s house: bring Eddie a little comfort: a six-pack of beer, some homemade food, and, well, someone once said sex helps destress. ✅

• Haunted house/Creel house: why not gross out Vecna? Have your favorite music ready. Do it in the hall, by the lamp, and on the dining table.

• Upside Down: not for the faint of heart, but your parents definitely won’t catch you there. Just don’t go during your period ✅

• Going to his concert: support Eddie like he deserves: dress like a heavy metal dream or a sweet innocent girl and get in the front row. He’ll dedicate a song to you

• Taking him to a concert: he has to see his idols, and conveniently, Metallica opened for Ozzy Osbourne on his ’86 tour, they even played in Indianapolis, so you pack the van, get a motel room, and scream your heart out with him. Eddie makes sure to thank you properly after the show

• Striptease: after watching 9½ Weeks, you’ll want to treat Eddie to a little striptease. Cuff him if he doesn’t behave

• Rockstar! Eddie: leather pants and coke sex (80s reality, don’t try at home) ✅

• Mechanic! Eddie: sex over the hood of the car he’s fixing, bent over it or spread out on it, lady’s call

• Ultimate goal: taking him to see the ocean for the first time. Build the anticipation over the road trip and watch his eyes go wide and teary (from the wind, of course)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

PS: I’m in Prague friends, not my usual time zone