#chapter five

[infamous-if]

CHAPTER 5 PATREON (ALPHA) UPDATE

Latest update -> CHAPTER 5 (04/27/2026)

✮ CHAPTER 5: 230K WORDS ✮

BAND TIER: APRIL 27 2026

FAN TIER: MAY 13TH 2026

The cast of BotB season four has touched down in a new state: Ohio! That's right—they're infiltrated G's backyard (and maybe someone else's?) Unfortunately, the rockstar isn't happy about this development considering the people who have decided to show their faces here. Meanwhile certain rumors are tainting the BOTB brand while the home lives of the ROs are starting to creep up on them. Will there even be a tour? Who knows?

As usual, MC remains in the center of it all. Their plans for their future comes into question when they're forced with new faces and possibilities. That is…if they even have a career by the end of this. For some MCs they should probably keep in mind to think with their head and not their…you know!

Hi! It's been a long time coming but I'm excited to share the Chapter 5 alpha demo! Thank you for your patience and enthusiasm :) Please read until the end. Without fail I get questions that are answered in this post almost immediately after publishing it aha

I'm calling it an alpha demo because, and not to get all sad and lame, after the death of my family member I did not feel like adding more to my plate (aka beta testers). Writing took up much of my time already and it just hasn't been the right time to include other people into the process. Of course, that must change, and I will be getting beta testers soon now that the alpha is out. As always, the chapters are subject to change and improve as time goes on.

So with that said if there are errors im all ears! I will try to be as timely as possible.

NOTE: if you're band tier sub from late march to april expired, please send me a message so I can send you my email and send the demo. In the email be sure to add your email, subscription tier and proof! *If not proof then I can use your email to search it up!* Band tiers will get it immediately + fan tiers will be put on a list to get it in May!

PLAY ON PATREON

[buggboyy200]

"They're in... a better place now."

[lostgirl88]

Dónal Finn as Thomas Hayward

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part five: devil's in the details

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none!

four | five | six

Lando kept his left hand on the wheel, the other curled loosely around the disposable coffee cup. The warmth had mostly faded, but the scent of cinnamon and espresso still clung to the paper, a lingering reminder of the strange little encounter at Books & Brews.

The sky outside began to fade into the telltale colors of late evening, bright oranges and pinks painting the sky before settling into the beginning blues of the approaching night. The sleek metal of his car glinted with the last embers of light, the jet black sports car speeding down the main roads of the city. 

Lando was careful. Always.

Which was why it pissed him off when he realized he had made a mistake.

The Books & Brews coffee cup sat innocently in his hand as he walked into the mansion, steam still curling lazily from the lid. It wasn’t anything special —just coffee of some sort, really— but the cup was different.

He should have tossed it.

It's rubbish anyway, innit.

But he hadn’t, because he had been too focused on everything else.

Lando stepped through the grand double doors of his mansion, the weight of the day rolling off his shoulders as he exhaled, slow and measured. He loosened the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up just as he strode into the kitchen—only to pause at the sharp-eyed presence already waiting for him.

Max Fewtrell stood by the counter, arms crossed, a whiskey glass dangling loosely from his fingers. He didn’t say anything at first—just flicked a glance down at the coffee cup in Lando’s hand.

Lando caught it too late.

Shit.

The cup wasn’t from his usual place. It wasn’t the sleek, minimalist design of the café Max always had someone fetch coffee from. 

Instead, it was a warm beige, Books & Brews scrawled across its center in an elegant, old-timey font, with a tiny, charming illustration of a steaming mug resting on a stack of books.

It looked completely out of place here—against the modern steel and marble of his kitchen, against the reputation he carried like a second skin.

And Max, perceptive as ever, had noticed.

A different coffee place. A logo he never used. Something new.

Something noticeable.

Lando didn’t pause. Didn’t hesitate. He just kept walking, exuding the kind of effortless indifference that made people second-guess what they’d seen.

It almost worked.

Almost.

But Max wasn’t people. He was observant, sharp—the kind of person who noticed things, which was what made him a good second-in-command and an irritating presence when Lando wanted to keep something to himself.

“New coffee place?” Max asked casually, falling into step beside him.

Lando didn’t look at him. “Something like that.”

Max hummed, glancing at the cup again before furrowing his brows. “Didn’t know you were switching it up.”

“Didn’t know I had to announce it.”

Of course, he knew how to handle real threats. Rivals. Men who came too close. People who asked the wrong questions.

But this? The casual scrutiny of a man who had worked beside him for years? It was the kind of thing that required a different kind of control.

So he adjusted his stance, as if completely at ease, and took a slow sip of the coffee—nonchalant, almost lazy.

Max let out a quiet scoff. “You don’t just—” He hesitated, then exhaled through his nose. His words come out calm, even, patient. “Mate, if you wanted coffee, I would’ve sent for it. You should’ve said somethin’.”

See? That’s the problem. 

It was never just coffee with him —  Max had an annoying habit of connecting dots and unfortunately also knew Lando since before he could reach the brake pedal of a car, so this was exactly the kind of small, insignificant thing that could start to look off if Lando let it.

So Lando forced a chuckle, easy, effortless. “Didn’t realize I needed permission to pick up a fuckin’ latte, Max.”

“Just sayin’. You’re a creature of habit,” Max pointed out, watching him. “Same coffee, same places, same people. Now suddenly, you’re somewhere new?” He gave a questioning look. “What,” he laughs, “Is the barista hot or something?”

Lando let out an unimpressed breath. “You think I’d go out of my way for a barista?”

Max grinned. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ve done.”

Lando rolled his eyes, making a point to take another sip, as if the conversation was already beneath him. “Relax, yeah? Just happened to be nearby. Thought I’d try it. That a fucking crime?”

Max held up his hands in surrender, amusement still tugging at his lips. “Alright, alright. No need to get defensive.”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Sure.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, setting the cup down on the counter with an easy, unbothered motion. He moved to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle like he wasn’t paying attention to the way Max was still staring at the damn thing.

“I’d have brought you coffee if you told me,” Max added after, like this was somehow a failing on his part. “Didn’t know you wanted one.”

“It’s coffee, Max,” Lando said smoothly, cracking the cap off his water bottle. “Not a marriage proposal.”

Max snorted. “Tell that to the way you treat your usual place.”

Lando hummed in response, rolling his eyes, forcing himself back into normalcy. This wasn’t an interrogation. Max wasn’t suspicious. He was just confused because Lando was a creature of habit, and any break in that habit caught attention.

But another thing about Max—he didn’t overthink shit.

So after a beat, he simply shrugged, letting it go. “Whatever,” he muttered, leaning back again. “Long as you’re not having a midlife crisis about coffee.”

Lando smirked. “I’ll let you know if I start journaling about it.”

Max studied him for a long moment. Lando could feel the calculation, the subtle attempt to connect and deduce.

“...Right then,” was all Max said. Then, with a shrug, he set his whiskey glass down and turned toward the fridge, retrieving a bottle of water like the moment had never happened.

But Lando didn’t move. He kept his hand wrapped loosely around the middle of the coffee cup, resisting the impulse to toss it into the sink as if it was tainted evidence.

Because it wasn’t. It certainly didn’t mean anything.

So why the hell was he still standing here, feeling like he had just dodged a bullet? (He’d know. He’s done it on more than one occasion.)

Max twisted the cap off a water bottle, taking a slow sip before raising a brow at him. “Something on your mind, mate?”

Lando finally moved, tossing the cup into the trash with casual ease. “Not at all.”

Then he walked off, back to his office, back to his life, back to business as usual.

a/n: not much in the ways of plot this time, but a bit more characterization - and you get to meet Max Fewtrell!

[pancake404]

The Player Character: Blank Slate or Not?

One last theory before Chapter 5 is about the player/employee. Who are they?

For a while, some (including me) assumed it was PW, Preston, only for it to become pretty clear that the player couldn't be Preston, as he's most likely dead, and the Player didn't show up for the Hour of Joy.

So, who are they?

Not going to lie, I have no idea at this point. Maybe he's Rich?

However, I saw others explaining that the player is most likely a blank slate, a representation of us, the "players" roaming around as some mysterious employee. It'd explain why we get no specifics on the player's identity, no gender, no dialogue, etc.

Personally, I still struggle to see it since it...just doesn't work, especially with Poppy Playtime. The story, in general, and the lore behind it show a game where each character has their own motives, flaws, and key decisions that advance the dark story behind what was going on in Playtime Co.

For characters with little screen time and dialogue, there is an impressive amount of complexity given to each.

Now, for the main protagonist of all characters, the former employee you play as, to be a blank slate? It would feel out of place.

Moreover, it doesn't follow the formula for a blank slate protagonist or for the game to contain one.

You are never given decisions or optional choices that influence how you interact with characters or the game. In the entire game, there is only one instance I could think of where you are given a choice, and that choice is given by the Doctor in the moral dilemma. However, no matter if we chose to not kill Simon Smoke or not, it didn't matter as the end result was the exact same(perhaps this might tie into Chapter 5, but who knows). Even if you include the cut content of the Safe Haven side quests, the end result is going to be the same(unless that's the point of the horror).

The game follows a linear path with the Player following whatever the game places upon them, which particularly ties into following Poppy's orders as the Player character seemingly chooses(according to Ollie in Chapter 3) to help Poppy, not giving the players the option to pick.

At this point, the player character is more blank than a blank slate since you can't incorporate your own personality into the protagonist to interact with the toys and world. It ain't like DDLC or even Undertale(though Frisk does make their own decisions at times) where you can choose options. It'll be more like an avatar to play a horror game that might as well never HAVE worked in the factory.

Furthermore, there are continuous mentions of either the Player's identity being questioned or their sins(whatever they are at this point).

"I can't say I remember seeing your face before, but I'm curious...why come back? It can't be that a vague letter was your only reason. Was there someone you loved here? Someone you lost? Was it the pain of not knowing for sure that brought you here?" -- Doctor in Chapter 4 regarding questioning the Player's identity and motives.

"The experiments killed everyone, including whoever you came back for." -- Doctor in Chapter 4 pointed out that the Player came back with a motive to find someone.

"But you...you worked here...so if anybody deserves to die alone, it's you..." Mommy Long Legs in Chapter 2, recognizing the Player.

"I remember! You used to work here! How are you...alive?" Miss Delight in Chapter 3 also recognizes the Player.

"I know you're probably mad at Poppy for not letting you escape." Ollie, in Chapter 3, mentions emotions from the Player. They actually desired to escape and were angry at her.

"You've made your choice. You're staying to help Poppy." -- Ollie in Chapter 3, pointing out that the Player character made a decision on their own.

"Happy and fun. Why was it done?" -- Chapter 3 hallucination when the Player is under the red smoke.

"Guilt haunts you." -- Chapter 3 hallucination, mentioning guilt from the past by the Player.

"Atone for your sins" -- Trailer for Chapters 1-4 on Epic Games by Mob Entertainment's channel.

There are also a dozen times they were referred to as "perfect".

I don't know about you, but I think it'd be a pretty big letdown if they mention the Player's sins repeatedly like this, only for it to mean nothing at the end. If it were simply survivor's guilt, then why couldn't that be established early on? Also, survivor's guilt of what? The Player supposedly didn't know about the Hour of Joy until they were shown the tape; the only thing they knew was that their coworkers disappeared randomly, but of course, we never know what they're thinking, and again, only time will tell. I'm still betting that they were a conspirator of the Hour of Joy and left their coworkers to die...

In conclusion, this was less about who the Player could be, but rather what I think the Player isn't. Maybe others don't share the same opinion, but I don't think it would be at all satisfying as a conclusion(if Chapter 5 is the last chapter) if we never find out who the heck is the boss that walked in and soloed Bigger Bodies that rampaged an entire factory in an hour.

[riotgurlll]

ׂ╰┈➤ SUCKER PUNCH! ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

Chapter Five: The Plan

MIKE WHEELER X NOBODY!READER.

↳ in which a loser boy meets an even bigger loser girl.

𖤓 ch.5 CONTENTS: reader is described as chubby, unfortunately I do use Y/n for simplicity sake I’m sorry, mentions of bullying, awkwardness, friendlessness, eventual yearning, shitty nerd x grumpy loner trope, silliness, 80’s, physical violence, mentions of blood and slight gore..? (Scrapes n’ stuff like that), verbal bullying, talking poorly about oneself, 

𖤓NOTE: Hey ya'll! Just giving you guys a little chit chat before you go into reading chapter five... The romantical angst is coming in slow but hot today! Get ready for more of it too :)

I WILL BE UPLOADING THIS TO WATTPAD AS WELL! I like wattpads formatting :)

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Shit, shit shitshitshit!"

that's what comes out of you.

"Holy shit.." Lucas agrees, looking in your direction as the both of you share a weary glance. "Already??" Will said, absolutely dumbfounded. This had made no sense... It wasn't the routine. They had done what felt like a million crawls: and while it was true that none of them lead them close to Vecna, they at least set them up with a safe routine and solid plan. If this is what he thought it was...

"Paper, paper! Some one get me paper!" Mike demanded, gesturing a grabbing motion with his hand as he looked to all of you.

everyone rushed to get a piece of paper from literally anywhere--all four boys and yourself scrambling like crazy to get something to both write on and write with. You grabbed a dark green marker from your bag and practically launch it at Michael as he messily pulls out a notebook from his battered back pack.

The small knock off expo marker hit Mike square in the nose, the boy hardly catching it as it fell between him and the notebook Will grabbed. The papers were out of line, some crimping and folding unnaturally as he pulled the journal closer to his chest so he would be able to actually catch the writing utensil. "Ow-- Fuck, Y/n!" He seethed in pain, not having the time to rub his terrible, monstrous wound. What a drama queen, you thought.

"Sorry, you're freakin' nose got in the way!" You scoffed in defense, Lucas and Dustin still freaking out and trying to make sure Mike got everything in order.

Will shushed everyone, tapping harshly on Mike's shoulder as Robin continued to speak. "Shh, Shh! We have to listen!!" He silently scolded them as though they were children: As though he too wasn't just panicking and rushing to get the things they needed.

"now--before you start bumping, here's a few fun facts about the boss... She was born Diane In the North end of Detroit,"

Robins voice glitched softly from the radio as you all huddled around Mike, listening intently and watching as he wrote 'north' down onto the fresh, clean note book paper he was provided. See, typically you would have worried slightly about how crazy you all must have looked to any outsider looking in at your shared, frantic state: However, with the knowledge that this broadcast was certainly abnormal--and most importantly, very early--made you worry about more important shit.

"Berry Gordy-- That's Gordy with a G, signed her to Motown in 1961..."

'G'... Right. You all nodded in unison as Mike jotted that down as well, licking his lips in anticipation as you chewed the inside of your own.

"And One is the key number, because between 1964 and 67', the Supremes had ten songs hit the top charts--that's right, ten."

You tapped at the top of the notebook Mike held as she repeated the number ten, signaling that it was something he needed to write down--to which he nodded again, eyes quickly raking the information they had written down already. North, G1, and Ten...

"Then in 78' she tried to make it big in the movies with The Wiz--which was a colossal flop-a-roonie. But, in my personal opinion, I still dig it-- I mean, Michael Jackson as a scarecrow? Give it a chance!"

"C'mon, Buckley.." You sigh in anticipation as she slightly grew off track. You and Robin had grown decently close over the past few months as you shared a familiar love of music, kind of like you did with Max. In the time you knew her, you found her to be a bit of a rambler... That wasn't news to anyone but you, of course.

"But make sure you bring your super-sized popcorn, because this movie has a run time of over two hours,"

"There, that's it.." Dustin mumbled under his breath as Mike wrote the two hours down. Everyone re-read the info over and over as Rockin' Robin finished up her little broadcast to all of Hawkins. One that had a secret message.

"Alright, class dismissed. I hope you were taking notes, there will be a test later! Take it away, Diane."

With that, you and the group shared a sure look before you all got up, you grabbing your flannel and sliding it on as you all rushed to get outside, somewhere private... Somewhere that you could all discuss this freely.

You walked closest to Mike, holding your flannel closed as you all speed walked. "Are we gonna have enough time before the bell rings?" You ask, turning your head to him as the others follow hot on his tail. He looked at you, scoffing out a laugh. "what, you worried about missing your AP English class?" He suggested, knowing full well what your answer would be. "Hell no."

You looked forward again after shaking your head with a shiver. Honestly, you'd rather die than sit in that bland classroom with the total snooze fest of a teacher that was Mrs. McFarland, and to be frank, you wouldn't be able to focus anyways. Not with a crawl around the corner.

"Then stop with the questions and hunker down in that annoyingly dry and clever mind of yours and get ready for the important shit!" Dustin reminded, using your own words against you at the end there. You go to turn your head, to glare at him and threaten him for the fifteenth time this month: But Mike grabs your shoulder and makes you turn with him and the group as they head towards a side door at the end of a hallway. The feeling mixed with the urgency snaps you out of your usual snappy self-- but your eyes don't linger on him long before you jog closer to the door and push it open for the group, seeing as Michaels hands were full.

You quickly shook whatever that small moment was out of your head. It was ridiculous that out of all times for Mike to get in your head, it happened now, in a time like this. You brain cursed your heart as you swallow it down to deal with later, taking a deep breath as you all head into the woods. The air was chilly, hence the flannel: but the breeze was quick to be sharp and cold as you inhaled.

Orange and red leaves crunched beneath your feet as you all speed-walked deeper into the woods stretching out behind the high school. The trees stood tall and bare-boned, branches rattling softly in the cold breeze, as if whispering secrets meant only for themselves. Somewhere nearby, a squirrel bolted up a trunk in a blur of gray fur, chattering in protest at the sudden invasion. You couldn’t blame it—everything out here was in the middle of preparing for winter, settling into quiet, and the five of you were anything but quiet.

Eventually, the trees thinned just enough to reveal an old picnic table tucked away in a small clearing, forgotten and half-claimed by the forest. The wood was darkened from yesterday morning’s rain, damp and soft beneath your fingertips, cold enough to send a chill up your arm when you brushed against it. Still, all of you crowded around without hesitation, instinctively forming a loose circle as Mike slammed a large, battered book onto the table. The impact made the surface creak in complaint.

The book looked like it had lived a hundred lives—its pages yellowed and tattered, the spine loose and barely holding on. Mike flipped it open with practiced urgency, revealing a carefully marked map spread across the page. His backpack might as well have not existed as he dug into it, pulling out a small blue pouch and upending it over the table. The contents spilled out with a soft clatter—tiny figures, worn from use, each one painstakingly detailed. Character pieces. You weren’t big on D&D, but even you recognized them immediately. This was Mike’s language, his way of making sense of the chaos—and judging by the look in his eyes, he was already ten steps ahead of everyone else.

Your brows furrow as Michael lifts a miniature Squawk van replica between his fingers, the tiny details catching the light filtering through the trees. He hesitates for half a second before glancing up at you, brown eyes flicking with something close to nervous anticipation.

"I wanted it to be accurate.." he blurts out quickly, defensive even though you hadn’t said a word.

You blink, then shake the thought away, forcing your focus back onto the table and the plan unfolding in front of you. Now wasn’t the time to linger on small, stupid things. Mike sets the van down and grabs his own piece along with Lucas’s, slamming them decisively onto the square that marked their usual position.

"Lucas, Y/n and I will take our usual observation post,"

The confidence in his voice settles over the group like a practiced ritual. He continues moving pieces across the map, his fingers sure and familiar as if he’s done this a hundred times before—which, honestly, he practically has.

"Once the Burn starts and we have sufficient cover: We'll signal hopper, who will make his move."

As Mike talks, he places piece after piece in careful succession, each one representing a role, a risk, a responsibility. Everyone nods along, eyes trained on the map, committing every word to memory the way you always do—because forgetting even one detail could get someone killed.

"And, now the crawl begins. Once Hop is in the upside down, He'll be traveling roughly thirty miles and hour which means that you and Harrington will be able to follow along in the right side up."

He turns slightly, directing his attention toward Dustin, who stands to his right with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

" Just remember try and keep the signal within--"

"negative 60 and negative 70 DB, easy-peasy."

Dustin shrugs casually, like this wasn’t insanely dangerous or completely insane. Mike nods once, reassured.

"I think their gonna take the same route as last time, main to Corn Wallace.. One turn--But, if you and Steve run into any red lights then... I guess blow through them. Unless there are any military or cops around. If you guys get pulled over, then we're screwed and lose Hopper."

A quiet tension settles in as that sinks in. Lose Hopper. Mike doesn’t pause long enough for anyone to dwell on it.

"You're gonna travel up Corn Wallace for about six miles,"

He adjusts more pieces as he speaks, nudging them into place with precision.

"And as the convoy reaches the small gas station up on the corner, that's when we radio. Which will drop the old man at the boarder of G1.."

His voice trails off as he looks up—only to find every single one of you staring back at him, silent.

"What? What's wrong?" Mike asks quickly, anxiety creeping in. His brows knit together as doubt flickers across his face. Did he say something wrong? Skip a step?

"No, yeah no it's... It's great."

You nod a little too fast, tugging your sleeves further over your hands and crossing your arms like that might ground you.

"Yeah, what Y/n said.. It's fine."

Dustin squints at the map, unimpressed.

"-but, G1 is the most nothing burger of all the zones. What's even down there?? A club.. craft store, a Best buy? I don't really see the likely hood of Vecna shopping for lucky charms."

The comment lands flat but honest. None of you look particularly thrilled about this crawl—especially not after the last thirty-four turned up nothing but exhaustion and fear.

"It doesn't matter! We need to stick to the plan and break into the upside down the only way we can. We don't have a lot of options."

Mike’s voice sharpens, pulling you all back into focus.

"Through the gate, under the cover of a Burn. After that, we search every inch methodically until we figure out wherever the hell that thing is hiding."

A heavy silence follows, broken only by the wind rustling through the trees.

"What if he's already gone..?"

You shrug, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You don’t even believe it, not really—but doubt has a way of creeping in when answers don’t.

"Not that I think he is but.. We haven't come across anything in the past 34 crawls we've done."

The number hangs in the air, a quiet reminder of just how long this fight has already lasted.

" I seriously doubt it-- and based off of what he showed Nancy? He's planning on destroying our whole world. SO: we don't stop looking. Even if it takes a hundred more crawls--a thousand. We don't stop until we are god damn sure that wrinkled, rotting bastard is dead and gone and never coming back."

Mike then moved raised his arm, hand hovering over the center of the table. "Everyone in?" You exchange glances with Will and Dustin, noting in the back of your mind how dorky of a move that was. Never the less, you rolled your eyes and put your hand on top of his. "Of course, idiot." You tease.

Then it was Lucas. He didn’t hesitate for even a second—his hand came down on top of yours with a firm slap, solid and certain, like the decision had already been made long before this moment. Will followed right after, quieter but just as resolute. His fingers rested lightly against the stack, knuckles pale, jaw set.

Dustin lingered.

You all looked at him, waiting. Expecting.

He stared down at the pile of hands like it was something sacred, something heavy. His mouth twitched as if he were debating a joke, then thinking better of it.

"I wanna see Vecna's heart on a platter.. Just wish I could do it myself."

Finally, he placed his hand on top of Will’s.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at how painfully on-brand—and corny—that was. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Dustin smiled at you. Not the forced, sarcastic kind. A real one.

"For Eddie." He nods at you. The name settles between all of you, quiet but powerful.

You all repeat the dedication together, voices overlapping, smiles breaking through despite everything. For a moment, you actually feel ready—like maybe, somehow, this time could be different.

"Kill Vecna," Lucas smirks.

You swear you’re going to keel over from how cheesy they’re being, but you don’t pull your hand away.

The countdown starts, voices growing louder, more confident, until everyone shouts it out and your hands fly into the air. Lucas whoops like a brain-dead jock, pumping his fist as laughter erupts around the table. The sound feels warm—real—a brief reminder that you’re still kids, still friends, still connected by something stronger than fear.

Lucas climbs onto the bench and jumps down toward Mike, who barely manages to catch him with Dustin’s help. The three of them collide in a chaotic mix of laughter and limbs, just enough to keep Lucas from eating shit. Honestly, you would’ve paid to see that happen.

Instead, Lucas grabs you by the elbow and yanks you into the mess. "get in here!"

"What, you think you're too good for some good old fashioned physical contact?"

He ruffles your hair, and you swat at his hand, half-hearted and laughing. You’re so caught up in the moment that you barely register Mike laughing too—until you feel his hand smooth your hair back down, gentle and quick, like he doesn’t want you to notice. You shove Lucas playfully, and Dustin takes his place, shaking you around just enough to make you dizzy.

A real smile spreads across your face as playful jabs fly between you all, voices overlapping, adrenaline buzzing in your chest.

All—except Will.

He lingers a few steps away, the noise fading as his smile slowly slips. A familiar, horrifying sensation creeps up his spine, cold and invasive. His hand rises to the back of his neck on instinct, fingers pressing there like he’s trying to ground himself—like he’s done so many times before.

The world feels like it’s closing in.

Will turns away, breath hitching as he stumbles a few steps from the group. His chest tightens, nausea twisting in his gut as his palms grow slick with sweat. He looks up—and suddenly the air feels wrong. The distant, muffled sound of children playing echoes in his ears, distorted and unreal. The ground seems to tilt, the sky spinning violently overhead.

It’s too much.

He lurches forward, bracing himself against a nearby tree, panting hard as he fights the urge to throw up.

You’re the first to notice.

"Will!"

The way your voice drops makes everyone turn. You all rush over, feet crunching through leaves as you reach his side. You place a steadying hand on his shoulder while Mike steps in front of him, gripping his arms and helping him stand upright.

"What's wrong? Are you okay??"

"Yeah, no.. I-i'm fine.."

Will’s voice wavers as he tries to collect himself, breathing uneven, eyes unfocused.

"Was it him??"

The question slips out of you, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady.

"I don't... I don't know." He swallows hard. "I had this crazy feeling and then... the sky was spinning...-I dunno, I guess maybe it's nothing but..."

He leans back against the tree, breathing heavy now, and you and Mike reluctantly step back, giving him space.

"Maybe I'm just nervous..? Y'know.. since it's before a Crawl?"

"I mean yeah, I-I get nervous too.. But the sky doesn't spin for me.."

Lucas tries to make sense of it, glancing between Will and you.

"S'it ever spin for you..?"

You feel everyone’s eyes on you. Your breath turns manual as you swallow, shaking your head slowly. "Never."

Before anyone can say more, the shrill sound of the school bell cuts through the woods—sharp, unforgiving. That god damn bell. Reality crashes back in.

"Okay, Squawk, six o'clock not a second later, okay?"

Mike’s voice is firm as he recaps, already slipping back into leader mode. Everyone murmurs agreements, throwing one last worried glance Will’s way before turning and jogging back toward the school.

Mike lingers behind, snapping the book shut with a heavy thud and shoving everything back into his bag, his jaw tight as the weight of what just happened settles in.—

The Camry idled at the edge of the school parking lot, exhaust puffing faintly into the late afternoon air. The sun sat los enough to glare off the windshield, turning everything gold and hazy, like the day was reluctant to end.

Mike would have biked along with his friends, really he would have. But he knew he needed to pick up Holly, and it would be a lot faster if your drove both to the elementary school and then to the home that you had spent so much time at the past year and some months. 

So, his bike was haphazardly shoved into the trunk of your car, and Holly’s would inevitably have to be tied to the top. It wasn’t necessarily practical—but Mike told himself it was the most reasonable action.

Now, you had to wait to meet with Lucas and Dustin to make sure everyone’s on the same page, remembers the plan, and remembers the time they need to show up.

You had one hand resting on the steering wheel, thumb tapping against the cracked vinyl in a nervous, uneven rhythm. Times like this when you were alone had grown awkward—to you, at least. After so long, it got to the point where you didn’t know what to say unless someone else was there with you.

Mike slouched in the passenger seat beside you, elbow propped against the door, chin resting in his palm as he stared out the window. He looked impossibly comfortable there—like he belonged in the space, like this had always been his seat.

“Where the hell are they?” he muttered, craning his neck slightly to peer toward the school entrance. “They said five minutes. That was, like… ten ago.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “Dustin’s probably taking a shit while Lucas hounds him to hurry up or something.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“That tracks.”

Silence slipped in after that—not awkward, exactly, but heavy. The kind that pressed against your ribs and made you hyper-aware of every little thing: the hum of the engine, the faint smell of gasoline and old fabric, the way Mike’s knee was angled just slightly toward yours.

Your heart started doing that stupid thing again.

To keep your hands busy—and your thoughts from spiraling—you reached toward the center console and fumbled through the scattered cassettes. You didn’t even really look at the labels. You just grabbed one, slid it into the deck, and pressed play.

A soft crackle filled the car before the smooth, unmistakable melody bled through the speakers.

I see the crystal raindrops fall…

Oh. Great.

Your stomach flipped as the song settled in, warm and slow and intimate in a way that made your chest tighten. You stared straight ahead before your eyes rolled back and you squeezed them shut, slowly but roughly smacking your head against the headrest of your seat. You’re cursing everything right now. You’d rather be in silence.

Mike shifted beside you. “Huh,” he said, voice low. “My mom plays this one sometimes.”

Of course she does, you thought faintly.

The car filled with Bill Withers’ voice, rich and tender, wrapping around the two of you like a secret neither of you had named.

Mike was quiet for a moment, then he spoke again, softer this time. “It’s weird,” he said. “Being… here. Without El.”

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel just a little. Why does this shit always have to happen to you? Why does he always bring her up when you’re around??

“My mom, she used to play this song and dance with my dad in the kitchen when I was a kid,” he continued, nodding toward the empty back seat. “Sometimes I wondered if me and her would ever be able to do that… or, something like that. But then… well, Y’know.” He let out a humorless breath. 

“I keep thinking I’m fine, you know? Like, totally over it. And then I’m not.. but I am? I don’t like her anymore I just… I don’t know. I thought this would be easier.”

You swallowed. “Breakups don’t really work like that.”

He glanced at you then, just briefly. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The song drifted on, unhurried.

Mike leaned back again, elbow still braced against the door, head tipping into his palm. The sunlight caught him at the perfect angle—lit the sharp line of his nose, the freckles dusting his cheeks, the dark tufts of hair that never stayed where they were supposed to. 

He looked sun-kissed, tired, real.

And heartbreakingly close.

You let yourself look at him—really look—just for a second longer than you should have.

Just the two of us… We can make it if we try…

The words landed like a punch to the chest.

Your gaze traced the curve of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows like he was always thinking too hard about something. You wondered if he ever noticed the way you watched him. If he ever felt this quiet pull toward someone and didn’t know what to do with it.

Mike sighed. “I think I just liked knowing someone saw me,” he admitted. “Like… really saw me. Even when things were messed up and traumatic.. but then I realized that we just bonded over it and clung to each other because we didn’t know what else to do—it wasn’t a good idea, yanno?”

Your throat tightened, but you nodded. Your answer came out held on a breath. “Yeah.”

Truth was, you didn’t. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend— girlfriend, anything. You used to have a crush on Ricky Hudson in the fifth grade, but it went away when you went into junior high.

And you wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to say his name the way Eleven used to. What it would feel like if he looked at you like that instead—like you were the person he leaned toward when things fell apart. Despite him sitting here spilling out his thoughts on how he wasn’t over his ex-superhero-girlfriend, but also apparently was, you wanted nothing more than to travel back in time and not choose this cassette. Literally any other cassette would do.

You forced your eyes back to the windshield, heart pounding far too loud for such a small space. You hated this. You were doing everything you could to push these feelings and thoughts away. You were sick and tired of it. Now was not the time… there would never be a time period.

The song played on, wrapping the moment in something tender and fragile, and for just a heartbeat, it really was just the two of you—suspended in sunlight and sound and all the things neither of you were brave enough to say.

Then, faintly, through the glass—

“There they are,” Mike said, straightening as Dustin and Lucas finally burst through the school doors.

Relief and disappointment tangled in your chest as you reached to turn the volume down, the moment slipping away as quickly as it came.

But the song lingered. And so did the feeling.

Lucas and Dustin jogged up to his window as the passenger side was on the lip of the sidewalk. They hurriedly gestured for him to roll it down—which he did.

“Alright alright— We know to get there a little before nine just incase, and we also know that Y/n’s the one driving herself but— Mike, why the hell are you here?” Lucas said, voice flattening at the end of his sentence. “Is there something wrong?” Dustin added, afraid that they missed something and actually needed to get there quicker. 

“What? No, everything’s okay.” Mike reassured. “Y/n’s driving me because I forgot I need to pick up Holly and I want to do it as fast as possible so I can work on the plan when I get home,” he explained. “The more time the better.” 

Dustin and Lucas leaned against the side of your car, panting as they had just ran from the boys bathrooms located at the back of the school to the entrance and now to your car. They shared a glance, one that was mixed with both confusion and suspicion—however, the moment was cut short when you leaned past Mike to scold them. 

“Yeah, which you guys were supposed to be out here to check with me like 15 minutes ago! What the hell?” You pried, palm flying upward while the side of your hand stayed against the steering wheel. 

Lucas squinted in the sun as Dustin internally thanked Lucas for being a sun blocker for him. He shook his head and shrugged. “I was busy.” Dustin excused.

“—busy taking the longest shit in the history of all shits.” Lucas corrected, gritting his teeth at his friend who threw up his hands in defense. “They had the chili today!!—“

“Ugh…” you gagged, leaning back in your seat. “I can’t believe you eat that gruel..” 

Dustin mumbled a small and meek ‘it’s good..’ under his breath as all his friends gave him a look of judgement. You just shook your head and switched gears. “Whatever, we need to get going. See you guys at Six?” You doubled down, eyes landing on Dustin. 

He nodded at you, patting the top of your car: a signal to leave as he and Lucas backed off further on the raised sidewalk. 

“At Six.” He confirmed.

𓏲ּ𝄢🎼ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅| llılılı🎼

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[archive-moth]

Bendy and the Ink Machine™ (2017) by Joey Drew Studios Inc.

Chapter Five - The Last Reel

“But... when the tickets stopped selling, when the next big thing came along, only the monsters remained. Shadows of the past. But you can save them, Henry! You can peel it all away!”—Joey Drew's final recording to Henry.

[shelookedlikestarlight]

your hornkus binglefuck cult concerns me but the cult leader intrigues me

(this is my way of saying you seem cool btw! hi! there’s more normal ways to interact but this is tumblr so!!!)

heh, I only just saw this, thank you dearly.

If this concerns you, you should be more concerned to know I have working on a hornkus binglefuck fic for over eight hours now. 🙂🔫

I’ve only written five chapters and I’m close to dying, it’s nowhere near done but I’m having so much fun.

You are welcome to join my cult and become a fellow binglefuck. <3