𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂³ || Temporary!Will Byers x Fem!Reader [...] ⇢𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥

━━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 - 𝐏𝟒 ━━

⚠️: canon violence [a lot of it on Jonathan, dude kinda got his ass kicked for a minute there 😬] and graphic descriptions of gore, and death. really, this whole chapter is filled with it. finally, much less important, a new girl reference lol

📝: not that i'm trying any shameless self promotion here but after this chapter feel free to check out STARDUST on my account! 😂 it's essentially a book of COSMIC bonus features inclusive to every pronoun copy of COSMIC, with stuff like bloopers, fanart, and maybe, maybe interview spoofs featuring yourself. i'll be posting deleted scenes from the flayed in STARDUST as well :)

❓: can't remember if i asked this already or not, but - other than updates - do you have any questions for me about any of my stories? or just me in general?

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Nancy and Jonathan hadn't wasted any time in their dash for Mrs. Driscoll's room and yet they still found nothing but disappointment upon finding her empty room. Not to mention the empty halls and scattered papers did nothing to ease their minds. The sight they found did no favors either; the bed was empty, the sheets scattered and hanging off the mattress. And most unsettling of all was the knocked-over vase of flowers that was steadily dripping water onto the bed.

"Where is she?" Jonathan couldn't help but ask.

Nancy hurried forward and glanced over her chart. "I don't know,"

"Are you sure this is the right room?"

"Yeah,"

Both their heads picked up at the sudden flickering of the lights.

"She's gone home,"

The pair whirled around to face the doorway at the sudden, familiar voice. The figure to have darkened their path was none other than their boss, Tom Holloway, his hands dripping with blood.

He smiled at them, his eyes far away and cold. Blank. "We were hoping you might come back," He took his first few steps into the room, and the duo took their first few steps back.

"Who's blood is that?" Jonathan asked, hoping to distract the man if even for a moment. He stepped further in front of Nancy in a protective stance.

"Tom," Nancy urged, but Tom was closing in on them. "Whatever you've done, it's not you. He's making you do this!"

Jonathan wasn't waiting around any longer for the man to clear his conscience. And in the blink of an eye, he had snatched the ceramic vase and smashed it over the man's head, sending the man crashing into the wall. Wasting not even a moment, he grabbed Nancy's hand and they sprinted for the door.

They hadn't gotten far. Only the threshold when they skidded to a halt at the sight of yet another flayed co-worker of theirs; Bruce Lowe. Like Tom, his clothes were disheveled and torn, his hands and wrists covered in dried blood. As he stood under the sickly strobing lights, he clutched at his temple where an intricate array of dark sludge pulsed through his veins. His lips then split into a manic smirk and he gave a small tilt of the head.