#alt 1

Halloween is approaching fast, and Lee regularly expresses how much he dislikes the holiday. “Everyone gets weird,” he mutters. “Tryin’ to scare each other, dressin’ up in silly outfits—hell, even the crime rate rises.”

You shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to suppress a laugh. You love Halloween, it’s been a favorite holiday for as long as you can remember. The costumes, the decorations, the changing colors of the trees.

This will be your third Halloween together, and you found out early on he’s actually pretty easy to scare. Thankfully, he’s a good sport when it comes to you and is willing to still do most Halloween festivities—your favorite being haunted houses.

You make an occasion of it. The kitchen is filled with the smells of an autumn feast—chili, cornbread, homemade pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. You even got some apple cider from a neighbor with their own apple trees.

Lee comes into the kitchen after a long day at the station and leans against the counter, his tie and jacket already gone and his white sheriff’s shirt unbuttoned at the top. He licks his lips as his eyes roam the small space, wide from the amount of food spread around the countertops.

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” he finally asks as he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. Heart radiates through the fabric of his shirt, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, even after a long day. His chin rests gently on your shoulder as he watches you stir the chili.

You turn your head just enough to look at him and grin, ladle in hand, excited to tell him the news. “The Jones residence has a haunted house this year!”

“Another one?” He pulls back slightly, eyeing you carefully as his brows furrow together like they usually do.

“Yes, another one,” you laugh, spinning in his arms and wrapping your own around his belly and looking up at him. “Please?”

Lee can never resist when you look at him like that—puppy dog eyes, bottom lip sticking out, and batting your lashes. That combined with your sweet voice and he can’t help but agree to just about anything you ask.

“Fine,” he grunts as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. “But let’s not let the food go cold first.” He kisses you softly, his lips tasting faintly like the candy he’s always eating.

You practically drag Lee out of the small house shortly after dinner, your small hand firmly in his rough one as you pull him to the cruiser parked in the driveway.

He’s quiet on the drive there. As Lee pulls onto the dark street in question, you immediately notice a number of vehicles already parked not far from the Jones house.

“Great,” Lee mumbles as he parks the cruiser behind a station wagon. “Witnesses.”

You can’t help but snicker, grabbing his hand that rests on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “Thanks for doing this, Lee.”

He looks over at you, the crease in his brow disappearing slightly. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you say with a smirk. He looks at you for another moment before finally smiling, chuckling softly and shaking his head.

“C’mon.” He opens his door and tugs on your hand. You slide across the seat and step out of the car behind him, already beaming with excitement.

The Joneses went all out, the outside of their house covered in fake spider webs, spiders, carved pumpkins of varying sizes, and even hanging a sheet to look like a ghost.

You hadn’t even made it into the backyard where the main setup was when Lee grumbles in a low voice, “This is spooky.”

You glance up at him, hand still in his, and raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?” you ask incredulously. Lee just side eyes you, causing you to laugh. “Is my big bad Sheriff scared?”

“No.”

“I think you are,” you tease, poking him in the belly and giggling.

“This has gotta be considered assault of an officer.”

“What, are you going to arrest me?” you ask nonchalantly as you approach the gate to the backyard. “My strong, handsome Sheriff boyfriend is terrified of getting jump scared.”

His head whips in your direction, eyes narrowed as he slows his pace. “Careful, darlin’,” he growls, though the small smile tugging on his lips betrays the roughness. The way he says it makes your pulse spike. “My cuffs are in the car, don’t think I won’t use ‘em.“

You don’t say a word for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. “Is that a promise?”

He stops dead in his tracks, the air suddenly charged, and his grip on your hand tightens slightly. Lee’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes now trailing from yours down to the bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

He stares for a moment, eyes dark, before abruptly dropping your hand. He swings his arm around your shoulder, turning as he does so, and quickly guides you back in the direction of the car.

“Hey! What about the haunted house?” you ask, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“We’ll come back another night.”

Flufftober 2025 Masterlist || Previous || Next

You weren’t too keen on the idea of going through a haunted house, but the look of childlike excitement on Eddie’s face when he saw the entrance made it hard to say no. It wasn’t as bad as you thought, in fact it was almost laughable. “I guess the Hawkins County Fair didn’t have it in the budget for a good haunted house.” You thought as you and Eddie finished walking through a room with some guy dressed as Dracula. He didn’t even do anything, he just sat on a chair looking bored out of his mind, which was only slightly better than the werewolf in the previous room who was smoking a cigarette.

The next room was filled with old dolls, some broken and tattered, some covered in cobwebs, the sounds of a creepy music box came from the walls. You nodded to yourself, still not creepy, but a much better attempt than anything you had seen so far.

“This is spooky.”

Eddie’s comment surprised you, “Really?”

“That so hard to believe?” He shrugged, quickly jerking his arm away when it brushed against one of the dolls.

“I mean,” you held up your thumb and index finger, pinching them together, “a little bit.”

“Haven’t you heard of Annabelle?”

You had to bite back a laugh at the serious look on his face, “Annabelle?”

Eddie looked down at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see any of the dolls, “She’s a demonically possessed doll. I read about it in a book and it freaked me the fuck out, and now I find these kinds of dolls all sorts of creepy.”

A giggle fell from your lips, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just, Eddie, you’re the one who made me watch The Exorcist and Nightmare on Elm Street and I had nightmares for a week. You’ve read practically every Stephen King novel, and you love haunted houses. It’s just a little surprising that there’s something you find spooky.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, kept his eyes on the ground, and started walking, “Let’s just keep moving.”

Before you could stop him, Eddie walked into a bookshelf, “Careful!”

“Ouch.” He said with a dry tone.

You took his hand in yours, “Keep your eyes closed. I’ll help guide you out.”

“Thank you.”

Once you cleared the doll room, you were out of the haunted house. You squeezed Eddie’s hand, “You can open your eyes now.”

Eddie slowly opened one eye to check that the coast was clear then opened the other. He looked at you a bit sheepishly, “Thanks.”

“No worries,” you took his chin in your hand and placed a kiss to his nose, “it’s okay to be creeped out by something.”

“Just worried it will ruin my street cred.”

The laugh you let out was involuntary, “Eddie, you don’t have any street cred.”

“Well, I like to think I do.” He stated.

“Your street cred remains the same in my eyes.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “That’s good enough for me.”

You smiled and placed a quick kiss to his lips, “You want to get some food?”

“I’ll never say no to food! Can we go get corn dogs?”

“Whatever you want, my treat.”

“I love you.” Eddie kissed your forehead.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

The air is crisp and tinged with the sugary scent of caramel apples and pumpkin spice as Zenitsu stands at the entrance of the Halloween fair, shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. All around him, strings of jack-o-lantern lights flicker in the dusk, their orange grins bouncing across the crowds of costumed kids and exhausted parents. From somewhere deeper in the fair, a shriek rises—a good-natured, terrified kind of scream, followed by laughter. Zenitsu flinches, his grip tightening on the two tickets in his hand.

Next to him, Nezuko is a picture of quiet excitement, eyes wide as saucers and cheeks tinged pink with the chill. She’s bundled in a pink bomber jacket with a cherry blossom pattern, her hair held back by a familiar ribbon. She tugs Zenitsu’s sleeve, pointing innocently at a group of teenagers wrapped in bedsheet ghost costumes.

Zenitsu swallows hard. “Tanjiro’s really making me do this, huh?” he mutters to himself.

Just over an hour ago, Tanjiro had run off, breathless and apologetic. “Zenitsu, can you keep an eye on Nezuko? She’s been dying to see the fair—please?”

Of course, Zenitsu had said yes. Helping Tanjiro always felt important. But now, surrounded by flashing lights and distant screams, he is starting to regret just how quickly he agreed.

“Zenitsu,” Nezuko says softly, her voice high and gentle—she’s usually so quiet that every word still surprises him. “Can we go on the ghost train first?”

He tries for bravado, puffing up his chest inside his yellow windbreaker with its signature triangles. “Of—of course! Ghost trains are for little kids, anyway! Totally not scary.” His voice cracks right at the end, and Nezuko’s smile widens, as if she finds him as cute as the plastic pumpkins dangling from the ride gates.

The queue for the ghost train coils like a serpent between hay bales and cardboard gravestones. Zenitsu keeps glancing around, as if a real demon might be lurking behind one of the fair’s “monsters”—who are really just actors in rubber masks. Nezuko is in awe, calmly studying each actor and silly animatronic—witches, devils, glowing-eyed rats, a skeleton bride, a plastic-looking zombie whose jaw chatters with every gust of wind.

“Why do people like to be scared?” Nezuko asks as they inch closer to the front.

Zenitsu laughs—an unsteady, nervous sound. “W-well, I guess it’s fun when you know it’s fake! You can scream and then…then laugh about it?” He tries to sound wise, like an older brother, but his knuckles are white around the tickets. “But, uh, I wouldn’t know, since nothing ever scares me!”

Nezuko tilts her head, eyes shining with innocent confusion. “Really?”

Zenitsu’s face burns. “Y-yeah! Really!”

At last, it’s their turn. The attendant—his face painted white, dark circles under his eyes—waves them into a rickety, bat-shaped cart lined with faded purple velvet. The seat squeaks under their weight, and the metal safety bar clicks down with a shudder. As soon as they’re settled, the cart lurches forward on rusty wheels and plunges into total darkness. Cold fog spills across the floor, swirling around their ankles like ghostly fingers. Hidden speakers somewhere overhead groan and cackle, their echo bouncing off the plywood walls.

Zenitsu braces himself, heart hammering. This is for Tanjiro, he repeats in his mind. I’m doing this for Tanjiro. I’m the responsible one tonight…

The first “scare” comes with a sudden burst of green light: a row of skeletons, their jaws clacking, jerk up from behind a battered cardboard gravestone. The movement is jerky, their bones rattling as they sway in place. Zenitsu yelps, clutching Nezuko’s arm for dear life. She giggles, unfazed, flapping her hand at a skeleton with a crooked hat. “That one’s waving at us!”

They round a corner and a tangle of oversized plastic spiders drops from the ceiling, their glossy legs swaying in the strobe lights. The faint shimmer of their wires catches Zenitsu’s eye just before he ducks, shrinking into his seat with a squeak. “D-did you see that? They almost got me!”

“They're just spiders,” Nezuko says, blinking serenely. She leans forward, her gaze fixed on a papier-mâché zombie lurching from behind a splintered wooden coffin. The fake blood on its mouth glistens under a flashing red bulb, but Nezuko just peers at it, her expression more curious than afraid.

The cart jolts again, wheels squealing, and suddenly a skeleton bride pops up right in front of them, her ragged veil fluttering. The speakers let out a shriek that Zenitsu easily outmatches with one of his own, his voice echoing over the ride’s effects. Nezuko, still calm, gives his hand a soft, comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, Zenitsu. It’s only pretend, remember?”

They spiral into another pitch-black tunnel, the darkness so complete that for a moment, Zenitsu can’t even see his own hands. Then a rubber ghost drops from above, swinging wildly, a tiny strobe catching its translucent shape as it lets out a mechanical “BOO!” Zenitsu jumps so hard he nearly knocks the ghost off its wire, breath coming in quick, shaky bursts.

“Th-this is spooky…” he whispers, voice quivering, the words barely audible over the ride’s haunted soundtrack.

Nezuko studies the dangling ghost for a moment before looking back at Zenitsu, who’s still struggling to catch his breath.

“Really?” She blinks, utterly guileless, as if the idea of being frightened here has never occurred to her.

Zenitsu tries his best to recover, straightening his windbreaker and forcing himself to breathe evenly. But in the next instant, a costumed actor in a ghoulish mask leaps from the shadows, grabbing at his shoulder. Zenitsu’s scream ricochets down the tunnel, sharp and deafening. Nezuko offers him a piece of candy she’d been clutching—a silent attempt to distract and comfort him as the ride jolts toward its end.

By the time the cart creaks to a stop and slides back out into the orange glow of the fair, Zenitsu’s legs feel like jelly. He stumbles out, panting, as Nezuko bounces off the ride, beaming. She immediately points to a stand selling caramel apples, already leaving behind the ghosts and ghouls that had failed to spook her.

“Let’s get one!” she says, dragging him by the hand through the throng. The vendor hands them each a caramel apple, sticky and glistening, and Nezuko pushes hers into Zenitsu’s hands.

“Here you go. This is for being brave,” she says simply.

Zenitsu’s face goes beet-red. “I—I wasn’t scared, you know! I was just…worried for you!”

Nezuko giggles, rocking on her heels while Zenitsu awkwardly holds both caramel apples. He hesitates for a moment, glancing at Nezuko—so cheerful and unshaken, still smiling from ear to ear. For all his nerves, she made it through the ghost train without a trace of fear. Zenitsu can’t help but feel a flicker of admiration.

He offers the caramel apple back to her with a slightly unsteady hand, his fingers still trembling from the ride. “You should have this, Nezuko. You were much braver than me, anyway...”

Nezuko takes the apple back with a grin, then rises up on her tiptoes to plant a tiny kiss on Zenitsu’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me on the ghost train, Zenitsu.”

For a moment, the lights and noise of the fair melt away. Zenitsu takes a second to regain his composure as Nezuko scans the booths for the next attraction. Children in vampire capes dart past, their laughter carried by the autumn wind.

“Wanna see the giant pumpkin next?” Nezuko asks, bouncing on her toes.

Zenitsu nods, heart still racing—but now it’s with relief and a quiet sense of pride. “Let’s do it! But, uh, maybe nothing else spooky for a while, okay?”

Nezuko gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, then eagerly tugs him toward the glowing pumpkin patch.

As they wander off, Zenitsu’s phone buzzes. A text from Tanjiro: Everything okay?

Zenitsu chuckles to himself, snapping a quick photo of Nezuko running her fingers over some sharp, crooked teeth carved into a pumpkin, munching on her caramel apple.

Totally fine!! he texts back, even as a distant shriek from the haunted house makes him flinch again. Then he continues: Your sister’s got nerves of steel, I swear.