#and move the rock over the front like i’m jesus

[soft-tummy-lovin]

why yes officer i did post about how i b thinkin about those sci fi size change rays and how it would be quite nice to be small enough to swallow so i could just,,,, Go To There(TM)

and yes i did also say that it would be Very Good to size up Just A Bit because a stuffed tummy is always a lovely thing, even lovelier if that’s Me

plus makes for better naps + internal belly rubs

so yes please arrest me

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Rafe takes flower nymph!readers virginity… in a flower bed.

Pjo x obx au masterlist

Ever since Rafe met you that one night while training, his visits became more and more frequent, you welcomed the man and watched his training each time, and he watched you grow your flowers.

He was much more kind than some of the other Ares campers. To you he was, at least. He didn’t know why, but he felt the need to be close to you, to be with you all the time. He felt the need to be gentle and slow with you, he didn’t want to go fast, as if you were a delicate little flower yourself.

So, he’s patient as he sits on the rock, while you talk about something while working on your latest addition to the garden.

“I like it over here, really, I do. But sometimes, I question if I’m missing stuff out there. In the real world. Outside of camp.” You rambled on while you watered the plants, your voice so quiet it was hard for Rafe to even hear. But he nodded along to each word anyways, your voice like a soothing lullaby to him.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He replied, his voice equally as quiet as to not interrupt you or the animals around you.

You look back at the man with a small smile, standing up, and wiping the dirt from your hands. You sat on the rock next to him, both of you staring at each other before his hand slowly snaked towards your thigh.

He looked at you for any reaction, any signs of hesitance. There wasn’t any. Your smile remains on your face, and you put your hand on top of his, before scooting closer, so that both of your guys legs and shoulders touched. His other hand went to your face, cupping it, he stared into your beautiful eyes.

“Can I… kiss you?” He asked you softly, your nod being all he needed to lean in and capture your lips in his, mouths moving together, his other hand went to your face as well, your hands were wrapped around his neck.

The kiss turned into more, you both found yourselves on the ground of one of your flower beds. You laying on the soft grass and pink flowers while he stared down at you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked you.

You nodded, hesitating before telling him. “I do. But, Rafe…”

“Yeah?”

“I- I’m a virgin.” You admitted quietly, casting your eyes downwards and trying to avoid his eyes, scared of what he might say.

He processed the words before a smile made its way onto his face. He was going to be your first.

“That’s okay.” He replied. “I’ll be gentle, promise.” He held his pinky out, you looked back at the man on top of you, and your smile was back on your face when you interlocked your pinky with his.

He leaned down again, giving you a quick kiss before he raked his eyes down your body. He grabbed the end of your dress, on his knees to pull it above your body slowly. He sighed heavily when the fabric was off, he truly did not know how he was gonna last when you were this perfect.

“Jesus.” He murmured out, you furrowing an eyebrow at his reaction, confused as to if he meant it in a good or bad way.

“You’re perfect.” He told you, looking back into your eyes, your cheeks heating up at his compliment. His hands went to the back of your bra, unclasping it with one hand, then looking down.

He took his shirt off, then his pants, until nothing was on his body. You still had your white panties- a little bow on the front that made him chuckle when he looked at them.

“I don’t know if-“ you suddenly spoke when you eyed his length, your mouth agape. “How am I supposed to…”

“I’ll be slow. Like a…” he looked around, seeing a little small snail nearby on one of the plants. “Snail. Like a snail. If you wanna stop-“

“I don’t!” You quickly interrupted, he chuckled at your eagerness. “Please… keep going.” You whispered the last part.

“Yes ma’am.” He said, pulling your panties to the side, lowly groaning at the sight. It took every ounce of strength in his body to not destroy you right now. But he was a gentleman… or something like that.

His fingers gathered your slick, you moaning at the new feeling, throwing your head back against the flowers. “H-holy…”

“We’re just gettin’ started, dove.” He told you, eyes looking up at you as he slid a finger into your warm walls, sucking him in like a vice.

“O-oh!” You cried out.

He groaned again. “Goddamn you’re gonna kill me one day.” He told you quietly, moving his finger in and out slowly.

After he made you cum and stretched you out with his fingers, he lined his cock up with your entrance, looking into your eyes as he slowly pushed in. Your hands were wrapped around him, your nails leaving crescent marks as you dug into the skin of his back.

You gasped, feeling full of him. It was like all your thoughts disappeared as he sunk into you, your mind consumed by the thought of him.

It was that night that Rafe knew he would never let go of you, he would hold on forever if he had to.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Heyy a writing request! How about a whumpee that wakes up on the side of a road and someone finds them (that someone can be whumper or just a stranger your choice :D)

Whumpee was shivering violently when they woke up. Had Whumper taken their blankets again? The rock of a mattress they lay on seemed more firm and cold than before and Whumpee moaned, reaching for the covers just in case they were kicked off the bed somewhere.

Whumpee’s hand wound through something wet and stringy and their eyes flew open.

They weren’t in the room.

They weren’t in their cell that they had called home for who knows how long? Whumpee shot awake, eyes wild and frantic. The darkness surrounded them and took a while for their eyes to adjust as they scrambled back on grass.

The memory came flooding back then and Whumpee stilled. They… they had escaped Whumper, they made a break for it and they ran and ran and ran, and ran some more and… they must have lay down to rest for a while or passed out or something. But they ran! They hoped they were far enough away now to be safe. They didn’t even remember the direction they were running from, they just kept running.

Whumpee wrapped their arms around themselves and shakily got to their feet. Their teeth were chattering uncontrollably, the sound grating a headache that was scraping itself around the edge’s of Whumpee’s skull.

They were still out.

They had broken out of Whumper’s home.

They had escaped Whumper…

That thought warmed their chest and Whumpee… for the first time in a long time, Whumpee smiled to themselves and laughed like a madman into the night air.

Okay, first things first, find a road and then follow it to civilisation. Whumpee could do that. They could do that. They could wave down a car with the sound of their chattering teeth it was so fucking loud.

They laughed to themselves again. Jesus, when was the last time they laughed?

They found the road pretty quickly, it was a miles walk away and then followed it along, walking hopefully in the direction away from Whumper. It was hard to tell in the dark where they were, but they were… they were outside. They were free.

Holy fuck… they were free.

They were freezing; the socks on their feet soaked through and their feet more like two frozen, cement blocks attached to their legs but they were moving and they were away from Whumper, and…

oh god, was Whumper…

They stopped dead in their tracks.

What if the next car that drove by them was Whumper, looking for them? What if Whumpee accidentally flags them down and Whumper opens the door and tells them to get in, god, no. They couldn’t go back.

They couldn’t go back.

Fuck, fuck, they couldn’t catch their breath, it eluded them and they thought it was better to go towards the light. Go into the light. Whumper wouldn’t be in—

A honk of a car horn and the sound of brakes squealing and Whumpee turned away, their hands over their head as a car swerved around them. Whumpee flinched, eyes wild as they turned and looked into the car, but there was nobody inside.

“What the FUCK were you doing?!” A harsh voice demanded furiously. Whumpee backed up as a man approached them, they shook their head, hands flying up in front of them to make the stranger stay back.

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, please!”

“You’re in the middle of the fucking road!” The man bellowed. “What do you mean you’re sorry, I could have hit you! I could have killed you, you fucking—”

The man stopped when Whumpee whimpered. The man’s quiet was worse than when he was giving out to Whumpee. “Hey… sorry, um, sorry for shouting, you scared me is all. I was…”

“I’m sorry sir…”

“No, hey, no. Listen, I— sorry. You uh—” Whumpee looked over at the man. “You have no fucking shoes on. What the fuck? It’s almost freezing and you’re playing Tarzan in the fucking woods? Get in the car.”

Whumpee froze. “What?”

“Get in my car. It’s freezing! You need to warm up or you’ll get pneumonia or something.”

“No, uh, thanks.” Whumpee said, hard to get words out their mouth was chattering so uncontrollably. “I’m— I’m—”

“Look, you’re not okay. We both know that. Don’t insult my intelligence by saying otherwise either. I’ll give you a lift into town, and maybe some socks. That’s all I’m offering. You’ll die before you reach the nearest town walking.”

Whumpee stared at Caretaker. Something like realisation flashed across Caretaker’s face, though it was hard to see in the dark, Whumpee could feel the shift.

“Oh. Right. I’m uh, like… I’m not a serial killer or anything.” He laughed then turned, his hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing at the skin. “Although that’s probably what a serial killer would say.”

Whumpee let out a breath of a laugh. “Most people would say I’m not a murderer, how many people you killed?”

Caretaker’s head snapped up. “No! No, I didn’t, I haven’t— ahahah, I’m not a murderer either, my hands are clean! Look.”

Whumpee felt their fear leave their body as they laughed again. God they felt so light when they laughed. It had been so long since he did so freely.

“Okay. I’ll take the lift.”

Caretaker smiled. A flash of teeth. “Great. Come on, I’m fucking freezing.”

Whumpee followed him to the car and climbed in the passenger side. He was right. The car was warm. When Caretaker climbed in and shut his door he blasted the heat on Whumpee’s face, body and feet. Whumpee melted into the warm leather like goo.

“Oh yeah. Heated seats are nice, huh?” Caretaker asked as he moved the gear stick and reversed before the car pulled off down the road again and they were driving.

“Really nice,” Whumpee hummed, watching the blackness of trees melt into one constant loop as they drove.

After a while Whumpee could feel a question buried beneath Caretaker’s tongue brewing. Maybe because he glanced at Whumpee every so often, catching Whumpee’s attention from the corner of their eye. Maybe it was because his fingers drummed a beat against the steering wheel.

Eventually, Caretaker plucked up the courage and asked: “Can I ask why you were out here on your own? With no shoes? And looking five minutes away from death?”

Whumpee swallowed, and it seemed like the warmth was sapped from their body. The thought of mentioning Whumper sent a shiver down their spine despite the heat, and they debated whether or not they should tell Caretaker.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Whumpee said, their voice quiet.

A pause. “Okay.”

A beat. “It’s just that it’s dangerous to be outside in this weather. And alone in the woods? You’d never know who you’d run into. There’s dangerous people out here,” Caretaker said.

I know, Whumpee thought, but didn’t say. Whumpee shrugged.

Caretaker shaked their head. “You’re lucky I found you,” Caretaker said with a little laugh. “I mean, I wouldn’t even be out here usually. I guess it’s fate that I happened upon you. I’m Caretaker by the way.”

“Whumpee,” Whumpee replied.

Caretaker smiled. “Nice to meet you Whumpee. Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah,” Whumpee said with a smile. They were warm now, and toasty.

“Thank god,” Caretaker said and turned down the heat. “Sorry, I run hot,” he said by way of apology.

Whumpee laughed. “You should have told me.”

“I had to thaw you out first. Don’t want you dying on me in the passenger seat.”

He kept glancing ag Whumpee from the corner of his eye. “Hey, you look— well, like shit, but exhausted. Just relax and try to get some rest. I’ll let you know when we’re in town and we can bring you to the police station or something, okay?”

Whumpee hummed their answer. They didn’t know if it was a yeah or no, because the mixture of the heat and the hum of the car lulled Whumpee into a heavy, deep sleep.

They woke when the car turned into a driveway, slowing down as it went, the bumps jostling Whumpee’s head and they opened their eyes, blinking awake.

“Ah, sorry for the road,” Caretaker said with a little laugh as they continued down a tree lined road. “I just have to stop off at a friend’s before we go to the town, if that’s okay? It’s uh… kinda the whole reason I’m out this way at all.”

“Yeah, no,” Whumpee said nodding and stretching as they sat up properly. “That’s fine.”

“Thanks, my friend isn’t exactly known for being patient.”

Whumpee laughed, thinking of friend. “We all have some friends like that. It’s all good.”

Caretaker laughed too, his shoulders relaxing a bit as they took the last turn into a drive. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Only when the house came into view did Whumpee stiffen in their seat. They were… that was… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Was Caretaker— were they? Oh god, Whumpee got in the car willingly, like an idiot.

Whumper is impatient. Whumpee knew that.

“You— you—” Whumpee stammered. Caretaker smiled over at Whumpee but his eyes immediately widened, suddenly concerned.

“Hey, Whumpee. It’s okay! It’s— this is just my friend’s house.”

“I— you… Whumper—”

“Whumper?” Caretaker asked, a furrow forming between his brows. “How do you know Whumper’s name?”

“I have to— you—” Whumpee stuttered, hands flailing as they reached for the handle of the door. The car was locked. Oh god. Oh fuck. “Please, please, don’t send me back there. I’ll be good. I promise! I promise!”

Whumpee yanked on the handle over and over. “Please!” They wailed, tears streaming down their cheeks. “Please, fuck… I only— I just—”

The car stopped suddenly. Caretaker’s foot slammed on the brake and the two of them lurched forwards. Whumpee gasped as they were flung back against the seat.

Caretaker turned their body to face Whumpee. “Whumpee! Look at me! Look at me, now!”

Whumpee flinched at the harsh tone but obeyed. Caretaker’s eyes were still wide with concern but now something else lingered behind that concern, something horrified and confused.

“Are you… are you saying you look like death because of Whumper?”

Whumpee shook in the heated seat beside Caretaker. If they said yes, what would Caretaker do? Bring them back, drag them by the hair? What if Whumper wasn’t bothered to go out and look for them so he called his friend to pick Whumpee up on the way?

A knock on the window and the pair jumped. Caretaker turned, swallowed and rolled the window down a fraction.

“Hey,” a smiling voice greeted them. Whumpee froze in their seat. That was… Whumper, oh god. He was here. It was only a matter of time before he saw and when he did— “I saw the lights but then you stopped up here, just came to make sure you didn’t have a puncture or anything.”

“No,” Caretaker said quickly. “Sorry, thought I saw a deer. You never know out here.”

Whumper laughed. Whumpee swallowed a whimper. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay then, see you back at the house. It’s freezing out. I’ll leave the door open, just let yourself in.”

Caretaker didn’t hesitate. He kept up his friendly demeanour as he spoke to Whumper like they were old friends, which they were, Whumpee had to remind themselves.

“Yeah, of course. Go. It’s supposed to go below zero today, so get inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Cool,” Whumper said and tapped the car twice before his footsteps disappeared into the darkness. Caretaker didn’t roll up the window until he was sure Whumper was gone.

The pair of them sat like icicles, too afraid to move and break the weighted silence around them. Eventually, Caretaker snapped out of it and rolled the window up. Then he straightened.

“Did Whumper hurt you?”

Whumpee was silent.

“You can tell me, Whumpee. If he hurt you we are backing out of this driveway right now and I am calling the police.”

Whumpee sniffled. Caretaker audibly swallowed. “Okay,” he said with a breath that reflected in the car. “Okay.”

Caretaker nodded. Then he grabbed the gear stick and put the car into reverse. Whumpee’s cried got louder and more strangled as the house disappeared from view again, and the realisation settled heavy in their chest.

They were actually escaping.

They did it.

They escaped from Whumper, and now Caretaker, Whumper’s friend, was about to call the police to help Whumpee. Ready to throw their years of friendship away for Whumpee.

“Thank you,” Whumpee weeped. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” they blubbered. With every expression of gratitude they felt the weight of relief crush them further and further into the seat.

“It’s okay,” Caretaker said. “You’re okay. You’re safe now, Whumpee. Whumper won’t hurt you again.”

Whumpee continued to cry as they pulled out onto the main road, until the heat blasted again, and Caretaker told them to go to sleep. Whumpee obeyed, for the first time in a long time, they went to sleep with a smile on their face, warm and safe.

[slut4thebroken]

Pool Party

(smut prompt 70 “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice”)

Pairing | Neil Lewis × reader

Summary | You and Neil go to a pool party and he sees you in a bikini for the first time 👀

Warnings | Smut, grinding, kissing, hickeys, public sex, breeding, praise, a lil degradation, needy Neil.

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | (Barely proofread.) This one got a little long lol. Most of these will be 1k words or less btw.

Even after months of dating, Neil’s reaction to seeing your body was always the same as the first time. He’d stare at you, slack jawed and blushing, as his cock started to fatten up in his pants. Truthfully, it was a bit of an ego boost and you liked teasing him whenever you could, no matter how much he claimed to hate it.

Today was no different. It was the middle of summer and one of your friends was throwing a pool party. You and Neil went together and the second you slipped your sundress off your body, he choked on his spit and went completely rigid.

“Jesus- what the hell is that?” He whined, making you turn to him. You tried not to smirk when he moved his towel in front of his body.

“What?” You asked innocently. He’s never seen you in a bathing suit yet, so you were eager to see how he’d react… He definitely didn’t disappoint. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your body and it was like he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was currently eye fucking you. “Are you okay, Neil?” You asked sweetly, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. When he still didn’t respond, you couldn’t help but smirk. He wasn’t even looking at your face though, so you didn’t bother trying to hide it. “Okay well… I’ll be in the pool. Feel free to join me when you’re feeling better.” You said, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice and sound concerned instead.

You walked into the pool and went underwater for a second before coming back up and swimming over to greet your friend. When she asked if Neil was here too, you confirmed and looked behind yourself, laughing quietly at the way he was sitting with his towel on his lap just to take his shirt off.

You talked for a while until two hands snaked around your waist and pulled you back by your stomach. As soon as you felt his hands you knew it was Neil, but the bulge made it even more obvious. Since you were still in the middle of a conversation, you kept talking and smiled a little when he rested his chin on your shoulder. You tried not to blush when he started slowly rocking his hips, rubbing his hard on against your ass.

Eventually your friend excused herself, saying she had to go greet the other people who just arrived. You waited until she was out of earshot before saying anything.

“It’s rude to interrupt people’s conversations, y’know.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“It’s the principle, Neil.” You tried not to laugh. He started pulling you back by your waist until he was leaning on the wall of the pool with your back still firmly pressed to his front. “Can I help you?” You asked teasingly, looking over your shoulder at him as he pouted.

“C’mon, baby, just really quick.” He begged quietly, kissing the bare skin of your shoulder next to your bathing suit strap.

“No, Neil. These are my friends.” You scolded gently, making his pout deepen.

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.” He was grinding on your ass a little more obviously now and he moved your hair away to start kissing the side of your neck.

“I’m not letting you fuck me at a party in broad daylight.” He whined and hugged you tighter, rutting against you more desperately. “Go jerk off in the bathroom or something.” You tried not to laugh at the thought.

“Can’t get out of the pool like this.” He grumbled, sucking the sensitive skin of your neck into his mouth, making you gasp quietly. “C’mon, I promise I’ll be quick.” One of his hands started trailing down your stomach, not stopping until he was cupping your heat over the bathing suit. “Need to feel you, baby. Need your pussy..” Despite your hesitation, his words were getting you a little worked up…

“Just keep grinding on my ass then.” You said plainly, making him whine and start rubbing your clit.

“It’ll be too messy.”

“Oh, but it won’t be messy for me?” You scoffed and he kissed up your neck until his lips brushed your ear.

“Please?” He whispered. You sighed and looked around— everyone seemed to be preoccupied with something else…

“Whatever. Fine.” You huffed. He laughed quietly in response, knowing you were still putting up an act.

The hand on your clit moved to push down his bathing suit enough to free his cock, then pulled your bottoms to the side, letting him line up. He pushed in slowly, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a quiet moan. You bit your lip and looked away from the crowd of people, trying to hide your expression. Because of the water and the lack of preparation, it burned a little, but the stretch still just felt so fucking good.

“Fuck— you’re so tight.” He whimpered, forcing his hips forward until he bottomed out. His arms wrapped around your torso again, hugging you tightly as he just barely started rocking his hips.

“This fucking bikini… Were you trying to kill me?” He said through a groan and you couldn’t help but blush. He suddenly pulled you down a little as he bent his knees so that everything below your collarbone was under the water. When his hands snaked up your stomach, you suddenly realized his plan.

“Neil…” You warned. You’re not low enough in the water for people to not be able to see the contrast of his pale hands over your colored bathing suit.

“C’mon, just— just for a second..” He whined, not letting you protest again before cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. “God I love these tits.” He grunted, fucking you a little faster now, but keeping his thrusts shallow so that the water didn’t ripple too much. “So fucking sexy…” He said through a breath as he started panting. You couldn’t help the quiet whimper that escaped when he started pinching and pulling on your nipples through the fabric.

You watched a group of people disperse and immediately got scared. “Neil— Neil, stop.” You said quickly, trying to pull his hands away before someone saw.

“No, baby, let me feel you.” He whined. Based on the way that his head hasn’t moved for a while, you figured he wasn’t even looking to see if anyone was watching. “I’m so close, just a little longer.”

“People are gonna see.” You whispered, still trying to pull him away.

“So? They’re just jealous.” He grumbled, flattening his hands and groping you again. “They wish they could touch these tits after seeing you in this slutty little bikini.” His voice was a low growl, making you shiver.

“Neil, come on..” You whined, not wanting your friends to see your boyfriend groping you in public. Sure, they could’ve seen something worse… but this was still embarrassing as hell.

“Shh, baby, I’m almost there.” He whispered. His hips were moving more frantically now, chasing his orgasm with little regard for how obvious his movements were. “Such a fucking slut letting me fuck you right in front of everyone…” He moaned quietly. “Letting me breed you in front of all your friends while I play with your tits.” He snickered, making you whine as your cheeks heated up.

“I bet you want them to see.” You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut— you can’t stop him, so you’re just not going to see if people noticed to save yourself from even more embarrassment. He placed his chin on your shoulder again, his hot breath against your neck making you shudder. “Yeah, you do..”

“No…” You whined, but it cut off into a gasp when he suddenly pulled your bathing suit down below your breasts. “Neil!” You quickly lifted your arms to cover your chest and he let out a low moan when he groped you again, this time without anything blocking him.

“Fuck,” He choked out, squeezing you harder and bucking into you faster. “I’m gonna come..” He said through a breath. The water was just barely sloshing around as he rapidly fucked you, chasing release.

“Neil, slow down.” You whimpered, not able to move your hands to stop him without removing some of the cover for your bare tits.

“Fuck— take my come, baby. Take it.” He growled, slamming into you with a muffled groan as his hands moved back down to hug you tight, not letting you escape. You scrambled to pull your bathing suit back up, trying not to get distracted by the warmth filling you up and the way you could just barely feel his cock twitching inside you. “Mm… good girl.” He moaned, kissing over your neck again until his body finally relaxed and his orgasm finished. “Good fucking girl.”

Both of you were panting, trying to calm down from the intense moment you were just experiencing only a moment ago. He finally pulled out, then fixed your bathing suit before tucking his cock away.

“I swear to god, Neil, if someone saw..” He quickly turned you around and captured your lips in a kiss, forcing a startled moan from you. When someone yelled your name, you both pulled back and looked over, finding your friend waving you over with a smile. It didn’t seem like you were in trouble, thankfully… so hopefully no one actually noticed.

[kurusick]

Can you please write a smug where Mike takes the readers virginity

♡ was i good?

NSFW!mike schmidt x reader

tags- SMUT/NSFW!!, loss of virginity, mike helps you through it, whimpering and moaning.., riding, neck kisses.., a bit of fluff at the end, MIKE GETS TO CREAM TOO!!!!!!! 😡

an: i am sitting like an evil villain this is a wonderful idea thank you… on another note count how many times i said cock in this lmfao😭

★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆

★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆

you had known mike for a while now, moving in next door a few months ago. you walked over and gave him cookies, meeting his little sister and instantly connecting. you started coming over every night, watching abby, cooking dinner, and tidying the house while he was away. you were his personal house wife. he liked that; almost as much as he liked you.

mike had dropped abby off at school, and you had come by to pick up one of the dishes you had used to bring over dinner. you walked in, giving a quick “hey” as you walked to the kitchen. mikes eyes followed you. you were wearing shorts and a tank. you rummaged through the kitchen, bending over in the dishwasher to look for your container. mike was floored. he had never seen you like this, usually wearing jeans and a t shirt. but shorts ? he could clearly see the outline of your pussy. he rested a hand on his mouth, having a mental battle in his head.

“mike i can’t find the dish…” you called, half embarrassed. you swore you had put it in the dishwasher before you left, but it was no where to be found. mike emerged in the kitchen, his hands resting on his crotch. you paid no mind.

you turned to mike, asking a simple “where is it” to which he replied “oven.” you nodded opening the oven door, bending down in-front of him to finally grab the pan. you heard mike audibly sigh, you turned and stood, confused. he was biting his lip and his hand were now gripping his crotch. your eyes grew wide.

“mike-“ you were cut off “i’m sorry i just, those shorts and that shirt- i mean tank, whatever it is it’s just-“ he sighed, half expecting you to yell at him. you did the exact opposite. “i mean.. i could, try? and.. help.” mike blinked in shock. you walked closer to him, moving his hands from his cock and placing one of your own, the other resting on his shoulder. “i.. haven’t done this before.” you blabbed, trying to tear off the bandaid. you were never one to be interested in sex… but sex with mike ? jesus you would cross the ocean to have sex with him.

“i can.. guide you” he whispered, placing his hands on your hips. you nodded and he led you his room, pulling off his pants. you did the same. he sat on the bed, patting his lap. he was rock hard. you climbed ontop of him, knees resting on either side of his thighs. mike took his cock in his hand, lining it up with ur entrance.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?” you nodded, slowly lowering yourself onto him. you felt his tip press against your hole and ur mind half blanked. he wasn’t even inside and it already felt amazing. you lowered yourself more, until the entire head was in. you were panting, half drooling. mike felt so good in you.

“f-fuckk you’re tight.” his breath hitched as you lowered yourself more, his girth stretching you out. you felt so full and he wasn’t even fully inside. mike couldn’t hold on any longer and bucked into you, letting his full length finally be sheathed inside your pussy. you moaned, grabbing his shoulders as your pussy pulsed around him. he was stretching out your cunt so good.

“you ok?” he whispered in ur ear, rubbing circles into your back. you nodded, and mike slowly started to fuck you. his hands were on ur hips, bouncing you up and down. it was slow, but god it felt amazing.

mikes head was burrowed in ur neck, kissing and nipping at any skin his mouth could latch onto. all you could do was whine as mike had his way with you.

“god.. so pretty on my cock.. can’t believe i get to have you first..” you moaned. mike was making you feel so good it was almost unbearable. everything was so hot and the way he was stretching you out made you want to scream. mike removed one of his hands from your hips, placing his thumb on your clit to rub circles. you saw stars. “m-mike..” you whined, feeling your release. mike sucked your neck and replied with a hum, fucking into you faster. your pussy clenched around him and you came, hard.

mike fucked you through it, and your body was starting to feel like jelly. “just a little more okay? just- so close baby… i’m so fucking close” mike mumbled into your neck, whimpering. his thrusts became sloppy as he spewed into your sopping cunt, painting your walls white. you let out a broken moan, feeling his hot seed inside you. you felt so full of him.

you were both panting. mike had pulled back from your neck, looking you in the eye. your stomach felt fuzzy. he still managed to be so cute even when he’d just fucked you.

you smiled, leaning in for a quick kiss, pulling away and breaking the silence.

“was i good?”

★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆ ★☆☆☆☆

[macfrog]

hi queenie, love of my life 😌 i’d like to ask the following for 🩵: d’you think there was ever a moment where joel really thought holy shit. she drives me insane… i gotta fuck her. ???

(rly hoping there was 😌)

ily, sister! thanks for the gif. feeling really. normal. about him. right now. oh, yeah. he had his moments. let's get into it.

compensation 1.1k words | duckie's baby shower 🩵 warnings: literally just joel masturbating to the thought of his neighbor. good shit.

she can’t have been older than twenty-five, when she moved in.

hell, she’s not even thirty yet, as it is. she’s too fucking –

you’re too fucking young for him, and that’s the end of that.

at least – that’s what joel’s telling himself, trapped on your front porch. watching you relive the story of the ups driver who almost wouldn't let you sign for his package.

doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, and not the thin tank top you’re wearing.

“…she’s like, how do i know you’re gonna get this to him? i’m like, uh, what the fuck do i want with my boring ass neighbor’s mail? no offense, joel. but c’mon. i’m literally signing for it. anyways.”

you turn, bending down for the box by the stairs, and joel drags his eyes upwards.

his hand shakes at his side. jaw ticks, watching you turn back, the package leaning against your front. your breasts – oh, jesus.

he swallows. his throat feels like carpet burn.

“’s heavy,” you mutter, edging towards him. “rock collecting?”

“mind your business,” joel clips, slipping his hands around the box. the back of his wrists brush against the swell of your breasts, and he stares so intensely at his own address on the label that he hopes it’s burned forever into his vision.

you huff as the weight passes into his hands. a little sigh.

something twitches beneath his belt buckle.

joel sits the box on his hip. “well, thanks for this. and for calling me boring.”

you cross your arms. it only pushes your tits up more. “stay humble, old man.”

he should walk away. right now. he should take his package, and his pride, and the fucking rock in his jeans – and head on home.

but then you slump against the doorpost, one ankle crossing over the other, and say, “s’posed to get pretty hot this summer.”

“’s already pretty hot.”

“hotter, jackass. they’re sayin’ record temperatures.”

“they say that every year.”

you poke at the inside of your cheek with your tongue. the way you always do, when you’re trying to annoy him.

and it’s working.

“actually, uh –” joel shifts between feet, “– i was gonna ask you a favor.”

“mhm?”

his gaze trickles down your figure. each curve and swell of supple skin. the shorts he’s getting a little too used to seeing you in, too used to looking for. your bare legs, and the glow of sun on them.

when he looks back up, you’re smirking at him.

christ, he wants to wipe that smirk clean off your face. wants to twist it into something darker, something…something louder, and filthier, and –

“joel. hellooo?”

you wave your hand in front of his face, and he snaps back.

“huh? oh, shit. sorry – i, uh…” a flush rises like an inferno up his neck. he shakes his head, fighting it off. “yeah. a favor.”

“you good? don’t pass out on my porch,” you warn. “wait until you’re back on your own land to do that.”

he breathes a laugh – panting, almost. “i’m good. i just – i need someone to water my, uh – my plants. i’m outta town next week, visitin’ my brother. if you wouldn’t mind…”

he feels like a fucking moron when he finally meets your eye again.

you blink back at him, frowning. head tipped, looking him up and down. “i don’t mind,” you say, something cautious in your voice, “but i expect generous compensation for my time.”

“compensation,” joel agrees, nodding. he’d do anything to be off this goddamn porch right now. “how about i’ll owe you one?”

“works for me.”

“alright. thank you, again,” he holds the package up, “and, uh – i’ll see ya.”

he’s gone before he hears your response.

too young. she’s too young. you’re so young. goddamn it.

you drive him fucking insane. you and your little shorts, the simper on your face. he swears he could see through the white of your top, two perfect circles where –

oh, fuck.

he spills into his bathroom, a heavy hand slamming down on the valve. the water roars from the showerhead, louder than the blood in his ears.

joel hauls his tee over his shoulders, the fabric peeling from his muscles and crumpling in a damp pile on the floor. he shucks the rest of his clothes off, kicking them to the side, and steps straight into the cubicle.

he looks down, and – fucking hell.

his cock sways between his legs, all rosy and already dripping. he can feel his pulse hammering at his tip; hisses when the stream sprays over it.

his hand lifts, curving around air.

shit, he just wants to touch himself. wants to relieve the ache between his hips. he has to.

he balls his fists against the tiled wall. his head drops low between his shoulders. the water pours down over him, pastes his dark hair in soaking flicks around his face. he can taste the salt of sweat and sun as it slips from his skin.

once. if he only did it once, would it matter? he’s hard now, anyways. there’s a quick fix.

you just – you caught him off-guard. he only went over there to pick up a package. he didn’t fucking know you’d be – oh, christ – he didn’t know you’d be in that shirt. no bra, no nothing beneath it.

he can still feel the plush of your tits on his knuckles. the way they moved as you leant against the doorframe. he can still see the summery shine on your skin.

he thinks about slipping his hands under the hem of your tank. up, up, up, across your smooth skin until he’s cupping them. squeezing them; circling his thumbs over the hardening peaks.

the short breaths from your lips, your smirk melted into a delicate o-shape. voiceless, nothing but whimpering and gasping when his teeth take your nipple.

before he even realizes it – he’s stroking his cock.

and quickly.

he groans, lips turning to his bicep. he bites down on the skin, hard.

he’d slip your shorts down your hips; see whatever slutty little panties you wear. he’d pull your thighs over his shoulders, unfold your sweet cunt and –

“shit,” joel pants, hips stuttering. his fingers splay out on the slippery tile.

you’re so infuriating. loudmouthed and fucking bratty. and he could shut you up, he knows he could. he’d sit you on his cock, wrapped perfectly around him, and fuck you dumb. fuck you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, soaking mess.

fuck you with that scrap of a tank top on. tits bouncing beneath it, the fabric riding higher and higher until they’re exposed.

what a good fuckin’ girl, taking all of him. letting him split you open, letting him fuck you raw. so big he’ll leave an ache deep inside you; so hard that he makes you come three times over before he’s even close.

but – fuck, he’s close, right now.

“c’mon, baby,” he mutters into his skin. teeth gritted; fist so tight the skin threatens to split across his knuckles. “make me come, c’mon.”

it’d dribble from your cunt, and he’d push it straight back in. make damn sure you keep it all in there, make damn sure you’re walking around all full of him. the seam of your thighs slick, semen seeping into your panties.

“goddamn,” he groans, and with a throb, coats the shower wall.

his cock twitches, pulses until he’s empty. the ache begins to thaw.

he shuts the shower off, still massaging his softening dick as he steps back out. he lifts a towel and drags it across his tingling body.

and he swears, when he notices the sun dipping below your roof –

it will never happen again.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Henderson

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.8k || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

~~~

This has been the worst week of Steve’s life.

Not only does Nancy think he’s bullshit, he found out she never actually loved him, she cheated on him, and she partially blames him for Barb’s death.

He was almost eaten alive by alternate dimension monster demodogs, almost died at the hands of Billy fucking Hargrove, almost died in the backseat of Billy’s car, and then almost died again in the tunnels. 

He’s pretty sure he has a serious concussion and a broken nose. The stitches on his forehead are starting to itch. He’s had a migraine every day since, and there’s ringing in his ears.

Steve honestly thought he could put all of this Upside-Down shit behind him. Pack it away in a tiny box and move on. Yet he was dragged into it once again, forced to protect kids he barely knows from both monsters and humans. 

He deserves to get paid for this shit, to be honest. 

He’s got no friends to sit with at lunch, no girlfriend to love him, and no parents at home to take care of him.

After spending the week at home alone, wallowing and recovering, he found himself thinking of the kids. It was the first time he felt anything other than misery and physical pain. But they were big, complicated emotions that he’s still untangling. He’s been able to pick out fear and anxiety, annoyance, exasperation, and– surprisingly– fondness. When he thinks of the kids, he’s hit with a surge of fierce protectiveness and devotion.

He’s got nothing to show for his life and no one to spend it with. Those kids, though, needed him in a way he’s never felt before. It was life or death, and they trusted him to keep them safe. Now that it’s over, even If he isn’t necessarily wanted, maybe he could at least continue being useful.

Which is how he finds himself pulling up to the same curb as he did a week ago. At least this time he’s not here about the Upside-Down; although, knowing Dustin, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Steve!” Dustin’s running out the front door and down the driveway in just a t-shirt and sweatpants despite the chilly November morning. He plows into his chest at full speed and almost sends them both toppling over. “Steve, holy shit you’re here! Oh shit your face.”

“Hey man, language ok?” Jesus, the mouth on this kid. “Relax twerp, ease up on the hug, you're killing my ribs.”

Dustin immediately drops his arms and backs away, looking cowed. Steve’s going to have to work on his approach, apparently the kid’s sensitive. Or maybe Steve’s still a bit of a bully, another part of himself that needs to be fixed.

“It’s ok, Dustin, don’t worry about it. Just a little sore still.”

He perks back up again, bouncing up and down on his heels. The little gremlin’s toothless smile is so damn cute Steve wants to give him a noogie. 

“Ok then,” Dustin replies, “so why are you here?”

“Uhhh, actually I’m here to talk to your mom.” Feeling suddenly awkward, Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. He hisses as it pulls on his stitches.

“My mom?” he asks, incredulously. “Why? What’s going on?”

Steve supposes he should’ve thought of this. It makes more sense to talk with Dustin before actually asking his mom for permission, but he hadn’t practiced this part. Now here he is, facing down an over-dramatic middle schooler and he’s actually nervous about it.

“Yeah, I kind of noticed you’re an only child, and you don’t really have a dad around.”

Dustin’s face falls, morphing into a scowl. Shit, Steve’s barely said one word and he’s already messing this up.

“Not all of us have rich parents who buy us whatever they want,” the kid huffs, crossing his arms and kicking non-existent rocks.

“No wait, ok look I’m sorry Dustin, that’s not what I meant. I’m not really great at talking about stuff like this. The important stuff anyways. Let me try again. Please?”

The kid’s still scowling, but his body relaxes a bit and he nods.

“Ok I’ll start over,” Steve continues. “Even though we were dealing with all of the Upside-Down shit and it was literally the worst week of my entire life, I enjoyed having you around. I’d sleep better at night if I knew you twerps are safe and I know you don’t really have anyone around other than your mom and the other gremlins–”

“The Party.”

Steve stares at him, mouth hanging open as he’s cut off mid-sentence. He’s in the middle of pouring his heart out to this mouthy ten year old and he’s got the audacity to interrupt him.

“The what now?”

“The Party, Steve.” The little shit’s tone is overflowing with condescension. “The group. We’re called the Party. You know, like in DnD?”

“What the hell is a dandy?”

“You, kind of,” Dustin mutters under his breath. Steve doesn’t really know what that means and coming from this kid he probably doesn’t want to. “D and D stands for Dungeons and Dragons, Steve. It’s a role playing game.”

“Whoa, alright I think you’re a little too young to be playing role playing games.”

“I’ve literally been playing for three years.”

“You’ve been roleplaying since you were seven?”

“I’m thirteen Steve!” He’s pretty sure Dustin’s screeching can be heard from the other side of town. “What are we even talking about right now? Why are you here, at my home, looking for my mom?”

“I want to be your goddamned babysitter!” Steve screams back. He takes a deep breath– in and out. This kid’s going to be the death of him, he just knows it.

He looks down to find Dustin’s eyes wide and mouth formed in a perfect oval. The kid’s shocked, either from what Steve said or that he literally shouted it in his face. Now it’s Steve’s turn to kick rocks. He shuffles back and forth, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from tugging his hair again.

“You guys almost died, man,” Steve says softly, avoiding eye contact. It makes this part easier. “You almost died, and if I hadn’t been there, I have no idea what would’ve happened. Maybe you all would’ve been fine, I don’t know. But it was my job to keep you safe, and you don’t have anyone else around except your mom and the grem– I mean the Party– to look out for you. I had to quit basketball thanks to Billy, and Nancy broke up with me. My parents are literally never home, so I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands. Figure I could use some of that time keeping you out of trouble.”

Dustin’s face hasn’t changed, still devoid of any emotion other than shock. God damnit, Steve really messed this up. He looks around and rubs the back of his neck. His skin’s prickling with nerves as he starts to sweat and he takes a step backwards towards the safety of his car. 

This was a stupid idea. Why would any of these kids want anything to do with him? He’s nothing like them: smart, nerdy, can save the world without taking a beating. Steve thought he could be useful, worthwhile to someone– to Dustin. He should know better by now.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just going to go,” Steve says. But as he turns to leave, Dustin slams into him once more. Steve’s breath whooshes from his lungs and a lightning strike of pain travels up his back. He thinks he’s shaking from the pain, except his crewneck is starting to feel damp against the kid’s face and he can see Dustin’s shoulders practically vibrating. “Hey, Dustin. Hey it’s ok, are you alright? What’s wrong man, talk to me.”

Dustin doesn’t look up, just keeps his face buried in Steve’s sweatshirt and grips him tighter. It hurts and it aches and it pulls at all of his injuries. He still lets Dustin hold on for as long as he needs to. 

There’s a slight movement out of the corner of his good eye, and he glances up towards the house to see a small, curvy woman smiling at them through the window. Not wanting to dislodge Dustin, he slightly lifts his hand to wave. He’s surprised when she honest to God clutches her heart and wipes what he assumes is a tear from her eye.

Steve’s already worried he screwed this whole thing up. He definitely didn’t think it would happen in front of a goddamned audience. 

The kid’s still holding on, but the shaking has subsided and he’s breathing easier. Steve smashes his hat to ruffle his hair, and Dustin backs off with a shriek. His face is covered in red blotches matching his bloodshot eyes. Steve looks down at his sweatshirt to find a tears-snot-spit wet patch stained into his chest.

“Dude, gross,” Steve huffs. At least he’s wearing an undershirt. Dustin just chuckles. 

“Like friends?” Dustin asks, still wiping at his face. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, hanging out. Whenever you’re not busy, I mean.”

It’s Steve’s turn to feel a burn behind his eyes. Relief fills him with warmth as his growing anxiety is washed away. Dustin wants him around. He wants to spend time with him and Steve never really thought he’d get this far. All he had was a half-baked idea to serve himself up for the one thing he knows he’s good for. And he was wanted.

He reaches out and pulls the kid back in for a hug, holding him tight despite the pain. Dustin starts trying to push off, so Steve flips him around under his armpit in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles roughly into the top of Dustin’s hat as he starts to screech again. He huffs, straightening out his hat, still sporting that iconic toothless smile. 

“Now,” Steve says, “all I have to do is ask your mom.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dustin replies, turning around to lead Steve towards the house. He sees the curtains pulled roughly shut and the silhouette of the woman heading toward the front door. “She already knows all about you. I told her what happened. Well, the government version.”

“You told your mom about me?” Steve asks in awe.

“Duh, why wouldn’t I? Sure, you got your ass handed to you, but it was totally awesome!”

“Right,” Steve scoffs. He’ll let that one slide for now. “You’re sure she won’t mind?”

“Mom’s going to love you. She’s been asking about you all week.”

If she’s anything like her son, then hopefully Steve’s got nothing to worry about. And maybe if he can watch one kid, he can talk to the rest of their parents– look after the whole Party of gremlins. He can host after school hangouts and movie nights, sleepovers in the living room and pool parties in the summer. There’s the beginnings a plan forming in his head, which parents and kids he needs to talk to next. 

When he’s met with Mrs. Henderson’s warm smile, he thinks maybe the rest of this year will be alright.

[loveinhawkins]

Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

[oscconfessions]

being a normally offline person in the osc is so difficult because i don’t understand what half you folks are yelling about. i’m over here still trying to figure out how this app works and i’m met with somebody’s college thesis on how the taco stole the ipad’s indigestion pills or something like that… oh jesus… it’s okay to feel frustrated over something you’re passionate about, look i understand. but if you keep engaging in all this gnashing of teeth, all you’re gonna end up with is a dentist bill AND less enjoyment for these passions of yours. i know it sounds counterintuitive, but you’re gonna have to get in the habit of ignoring all this baloney. because listen even i still catch myself letting internet strangers get under my skin sometimes. people have trailmix for brains these days thinking they’re gonna gain something from all that passing judgement… it’s INFURIATING i KNOW but you gotta remind yourself: this is the internet. it’s different from the real world, and if someone on here makes you upset then you don’t need to go through all that effort of confronting them, trying to prove them wrong because 1. they don’t give a rat’s ass what you think cause all they’re thinking is “me me me im right no one else me im right” these folks are STUBBORN i tell you what. and 2. it doesn’t matter. the fact that you’re upset matters of course, but the situation itself is Not going to have any impact on your real life whatsoever. there is no point in confrontation if it is not going to resolve the conflict. i’ll say that again. There Is No Point In Confrontation If It Is Not Going To Resolve The Conflict. i swear one day you’re gonna be like 70 sitting on your front porch in a rocking chair thinking to yourself “why on god’s green earth was i so ruffled about that” because none of this Truly Matters. if you start blocking and ignoring, it will be so much easier to just forget and move on. if you throw yourself into an argument, it’s just gonna be plaguing your memory, furthermore adding negative connotations to the things you enjoy. and it pains me to see people unable to properly enjoy things because they bunched their lettuce up over what some gaggle of boneheads rambled about. look, you are not here to prove yourself. you’re not here to prove anything. you’re not here to preach gospel. you’re not here to entertain anyone. and it’s okay to be wrong sometimes. sorry if none of that made sense i haven’t had coffee yet let me get my butt out of this bed🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

.

[sturnioloshacker]

back shots part 2 - a vinnie hacker short smut

a/n: requested by @tcvazq; lowercase intended

cw: sub!vinnie, dom!reader, praise kink, mommy kink, use of sex toys, mentions of lubricant, anal play, cumshot, slight dirty talk, pure filthy smut. this is an nsfw short, everything written is fictional. interact or don’t, i’m not your mother

summary: you decide to take control of vinnie

“round 2?”

“round 2 it is! but this time, i take control.”

i get up from the bed and walk into the walk-in closet. i feel vinnie’s eyes burn into the back of my head as i reach for a box that i keep in the dark where he can’t see it. fumbling through the box, i grab what I need and hide it behind my naked body. 

“ready, baby?”

“yeah, i can’t wait to see how you’re gonna take control.”

i pull out the strap-on from behind my back and watch vinnie’s eyes widen as i strap it around my waist and adjust it against my pussy to make it look like i have a dick. lathering it up in lube, i smother it all over the strap-on, taking small glances and smirks at the boy in front of me. once dominating and fucking me into the sheets to now whining like a little bitch, vinnie’s cock is throbbing at the sight in front of him.

“face up, ass down. now.” i demand.

“yes, mommy. okay mommy.” 

vinnie rolls over and does exactly what i told him to do. such a good boy! i align the strap-on with his asshole and i slowly push it in. i bottom out once i’m fully in and i hear his muffled moans in the sheets.

“what was that, pretty boy? i couldn’t hear you properly.”

“fuck that feels so good, jesus! please move, i need more.”

i slowly rock in and out of vinnie’s ass the way he rocks in and out of me. the way his hole clenches around the fake cock is so hot. i slowly bring the pace up in the same way he does when he fucks me. 

“faster, please, fuck!”

*SMACK*

“ow, what the fuck? that hurt!”

“that’s for not using your manners. now what do you want me to do?” 

“please go faster, mommy. I need you so bad, please, please, please oh my god.” he whines.

“of course, baby. good job on using your manners.”

i speed up my movements and vinnie is just non-stop moaning and whining. music to my ears. i reach my hand under his legs and start jerking him off to get him closer to the verge of cumming which has him moaning at a higher pitch.

“oh my god that feels so good i’m gonna cum please don’t stop i’m so close oh fuck me god damn fuck!”

“you gonna cum? yeah? cum for me, let it all go for me dirty boy.”

i stop my thrusts but continue jerking him off. i watch his whole body spasm as he releases his load onto the sheets and all over my hand. i laugh as he whines and comes down from his high. he rolls over and watches as i lick and suck his cum off my fingers. 

“you okay, baby?”

“i’m okay. that felt so good, thank you mommy.”

“you’re welcome, sweet boy. 

“you can take control more often. that was hot,” he mumbles, all fucked out.

[yellowsugarwords]

I’m a sucker for Javi angst so I must ask: how would the Garcias, Clem, Tripp, Jesus and Eleanor react to Javi having a panic attack after recalling everything that happened with the whole new frontier drama?

oooo I also love myself some angst. Enjoy!!!

Clementine: Clementine was stunned. She never would’ve expected Javi to break but especially not like this. He always seemed so strong, so together, she was shocked seeing him any other way. “Javi,” she said, growing closer and kneeling in front of him, hoping to get his attention. He was leaning against a wall, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Hey, Javi.” Clementine placed a hand on top of his, trying to catch his gaze. “You’re okay. We’re still here.” Javi looked up, locking onto Clem. She needed encouragingly. “Breathe with me. I’ll count it out.” Once Javi caught his breath, he closed his eyes and pulled Clementine in for a tight hug. Clem squeezed him and could feel his arms rattling as he held her. “You’re okay.” She said reassuringly. Javi squeezed her tighter.

Gabe: “Javi?” Javi slowly wandered to the wall, placing his palms against it to steady himself as he leaned back. Slowly, he slid down to the floor, his hands clamoring at his air and the neckline of his shirt. “Javi, what’s going on?” Suddenly, as Gabe watched his chest rise and slam back down, he realized exactly what had happened. Patiently, Gabe waved his hand to keep the others back as he approached his uncle. “Javi, hey, it’s Gabe.” He said softly, kneeling in front of him, just wanting to gain his attention. “You’re gonna be alright, alright? This feeling is going to pass.” He frowned, hated seeing how his rock - the person he always relied on - was breaking before his very eyes. Gabe placed a hand on Javi’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re here for you, Javi. You aren’t alone.”

Mariana: Mariana frowned seeing Javi stumble to the far wall of the room and slowly sink into the floor. “Javi?” She asked, voice soft and gentle. Normally, that was a comfort to Javi, but he was too far gone. “Javi, what’s wrong?” All she could think to do was draw closer and kneel in front of him. As always, Mariana always believed that gentleness was the superior approach. She said nothing at first, her emotions taking over her expression. Mariana reached out, gently and slowly, and placed her hand on top of one of Javi’s. His head snapped up, brow sweating and his chest heaving. “Mari,” was all he could wheeze out. Teary-eyed, Mariana smiled and squeezed his palm. “I’m here.” She hushed. It was all Javi needed, suddenly.

Kate: Kate had never expected anything like this from Javi. He was always so collected, so strong. She had never anticipated that the world could hurt him like this. But then again, he was always the rock for everyone else. It made sense that eventually, he would crumble. “Javi,” she said, moving closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Javi, it’s okay.” She was watching him crumble to pieces, his head falling into his hands. Kate sat beside him, bringing him into her arms. “Javi, Javi, it’s okay.” Kate’s voice was low and soft, stroking his hair and trying to keep him grounded. At least, as grounded as he could be. “You’re okay, Javi, I got you. I’m here.” Kate turned to glance at the rest of the group, eyes pleading for answers. Sadly, none of them had any answers t give. Seeing Javi shatter was shocking to all of them.

David: David was the most skeptical of Javi’s brilliant ‘performance.’ As it continued, however, David started to get the inkling that this was something else. Slowly, lowering his crossed arms, he started closer toward his brother. “Javi, are you fucking bit?” Javi just clutched his chest, eyes closed, easing himself down to the floor. “This isn’t a bite,” Eleanor said lowly, hoping Javi was too distracted to hear her. If anything, she was trying to get David to ease up, not inherently understand everything. David paused, registering what he was seeing, then released a sigh he didn’t know he had in his chest. “Javi,” he said, voice low. He approached him and knelt in front of him. He attempted to maintain eye contact, but Javi was too distraught. “Javi, it’s me. It’s David.” His voice grew softer, realizing how desperately out of it Javi was. “It’s your brother, Javi.” That struck a chord and Javi’s eyes glanced up, shivering as he met his brother’s stare. David gave him a small, firm nod. “You’re gonna be okay, but I need you to work with me here.” David finally frowned. “I can’t do this without you.”

Tripp: Tripp frowned, arms crossed at Javi’s sudden erratic behavior. He had never seen the man act like this, and all of a sudden? “What the hell is up with him?” He asked lowly, hoping that only someone close to him could hear and quietly answer. He didn’t want to embarrass the guy, but in their world, you couldn’t help but be cautious over erratic behavior. It could end in catastrophe. “Javier, what’s going on with you?” Javi only managed out a staggered wheeze before stumbling into the brick wall behind him. Immediately, Tripp snapped out of it. “Shit, can someone pass me some water.” He said, pushing his way to the front of their group and kneeling in front of Javi. Without thinking twice, Tripp grabbed onto his shoulders and adjusted him so he was sitting upright. “Javi, hey, look at me.” Tripp ensured they had locked eye contact before continuing. “You’re gonna be okay, but I need you to breathe with me, alright?”

Eleanor: Eleanor was stunned. At first, momentarily, she thought he was messing with them. It was not until he doubled over - his uneven breathing becoming evident - that Eleanor realized what was happening. “Hey, hey, okay, okay,” she hushed, pushing herself through the crowd of Javi’s loved ones toward him. “Look at me.” he didn’t. He couldn’t. Regardless, she tried again. “Javi. Look at me.” She repeated, firmer this time. Now, when his gaze met hers, she let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. Javi, I need you to stay looking at me, and do exactly as I say, okay?” She said, holding his hands in each of hers. Together, counting in and out, Javi’s shaky breathing regained regularity. He often needed to squeeze his eyes shut to ignore all the eyes embarrassingly staring at him. Thankfully, soon it was over, and Eleanor’s grip on his hands lessened, reading his expression to see what to do next.

Jesus: Jesus frowned, noticing the beginning signs. He had seen it all before - the shaking, the sweating, the weakening of the knees - and knew exactly what was happening. “Give ‘em some room,” Jesus said, ushering everyone back as he broke through the back of the growing crowd of Javi’s loved ones. “Let him breathe.” He approached, kneeling in front of Javi, and placed a firm hand on one of his shoulders. “Hey man, I need you to look at me.” His voice was gentle, yet stern. Hard, yet soft. Javi naturally obeyed, as if his body did so automatically. “It’s gonna be okay,” Jesus said lowly. “But for that to happen, you’re gonna need to take some deep breaths with me.” Everyone was amazed at how confident Jesus was in everything he did, including comforting someone falling apart. “Follow my lead, got it? Not that that’s anything new to you.” Through his panicked breathing, Javi managed a faint scoff. “There he is,” Jesus said with a grin. “Now let’s get started. With me now, breathe in.”

━━━━━━ 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!! ₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫   ♡   𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

[deeseelovez]

professor lupin

college professor!remus lupin x college student!reader (can be read as any race or size) 

warnings: degradation kink. face fucking. pussy/ass eating (barley ass eating. i don’t know what i’m doing) handcuffs, choking, daddy kink, spiting. porn. 

~~~~

remus lupin was grading his students recent tests and he could feel the effects of the full-moon that was coming in two days. He was sucked into his work until he heard a knock on his door. 

“Professor?” She looked inside of the classroom, “May I come in?” Remus could feel his dick harden at seeing her come in, in a short skirt and low-cut top. 

“Mrs. Y/l/n, my office hours are long over.”Remus says. He focused on the curve of her ass. 

“Mr. Lupin, call me, y/n.” She says as she walks to his desk. Remus could see the fake innocence to her smile and his eyebrow raised, throwing the pen on the table, and leaned back in his chair 

“Okay, y/n. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m your student, am I not allowed to be here?” She asks with a smirk. 

“Dressed like a slut?” He asks, his voice lowered. 

“Professor, you’ve been eye-fucking me all year. I thought, you’d enjoy this little outfit. I picked out for you.” She learned over the desk, and he could see straight down her shirt. He stood up. 

“This is inappropriate. I could lose my job, Y/n.” 

“You better fuck me good then,” She says and he grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her against the blackboard. 

“You don’t make the orders here, understand me, pet?” He says, 

“Yes,” 

“Daddy.” He says, his hand around her throat now, his other hand going down her body, squeezing one of her boobs as he went down to core, underneath her skirt to feel the wetness of her pussy, no panties protecting her cunt. 

“You really are a slut,” She looks up into his eyes. 

“Your slut,” She corrects him and he smirks. Their lips moving together, their tounges meeting and melting into each other.  

“You are so wet for me, my fucking slut huh?” They kept eye contacting as his hands hardened around her throat, and two fingers start to go in and out of her soaking pussy, his thumb swirling around her clit, she kept eye contact with him. 

She held in her moans until it all became too much, “Fuck, daddy. I’m going to cum, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Fucking cum, cum on my fingers right now. you dirty slut.” 

“Yes, daddy!” He could feel her come undone on his fingers. 

“I wanna feel you cum on my dick, but first, I wanna feel that pretty mouth.” He finally let her breath.  

“Do you trust me, poppet?” 

“Yes, daddy.” She says, 

“Good, strip down and sit in your chair.” She did that, she slowly took off her skirt and top and sat down in the front row that she sat in everyday. He went around her, now completely nude, the belt in his hands, and he grabbed them and tied them behind her back.  

“Now, y/n.” He says, walking in front of her, his cock hard as a rock, “Listen to me. You belong to me, now.” 

“Yes, sir.” She says, nodding. 

“Now, suck.” He says, and she nods, moving forward towards his cock and starts to suck on his tip, Remus put his hands on each side of her face, and he started to thrust into her mouth. 

“Take it, yes, take it. That’s a good whore.” He cooes as her eyes stare up into him with her mouth in the perfect ‘o’ shape. 

He moaned and his head went back, “Fuck, I’m about to cum.” He says looking back down at her, “Do you want my cum? Do you want to taste my cum in your mouth? Huh?” She hummed a yes and that made him blow his load in her mouth.  

She sucked the tip of his cock until every drop of his cum was inside of her mouth, he untied her hands and threw everything off his dress and put her on hands and knees. 

“Fuck, your ass is perfect.” Remus says, slapping her ass and he spits and it hit her ass and went down inside of her cunt. 

“Jesus,” He says, he dipped down, his tongue going from her asshole to her cunt, he sucked harshly on the skin in between ass and vagina, and went down to her cunt. 

Slipping his tongue in and out of her tight cunt, slurping up her juices, he pinched her clit and she let out a yelp. 

“Daddy, please. You making me feel so good. I’m going to cum,” She says in a whiny high-pitched voice. 

“Come on, princess. Cum for me.” 

He moves her around, her back on the smooth desk, “You want my dick inside you, love?” He says, his hand rubbing up and down on his cock. 

“Yes, daddy. Please.”

“Are you sure, baby?” He says, he didn’t want to hurt her, but her fingers went down to her clit. 

“Please, fuck me, daddy.” She says and he nods. 

“My pretty slut,” He says, leaning over, he slowly enters inside of her, and she moans as he did. 

He starts to thrust harder and harder inside of her, his hand going to her throat again, her hand holding his as their bodies connected. 

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy feels so good tightening around my cock.” 

“Give it to me, daddy. Please.” His eyebrows raised and his hand moved from around her throat to covering her mouth. 

“You don’t get to boss me around me, bitch.” He says, “I make the fucking rules.” He says, thrusting painfully slow inside of her now, she slowly clenched around him. 

Her eyes roll in to the back of her head as he slowly start to speed up again.  

“God damn, sweetheart. I think, I’m going to cum.” He says, moving her right leg over his shoulder as he fucking at her new angle, hitting her in her g-spot. 

“Fuck, daddy.” She screams against his hand, “right there,” She says, “I’m cumming.”

“Fuck, me too, babygirl.” They come undone together as Remus lands on top of her. 

“So, did I fuck you good enough?” 

“I’d say so.” She smiles down at him. 

[jenna-ortega]

Whiskey Burn

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mean Joel, P in V, fingering, dubcon?(not rlly), angst, joels a real dickhead

Word Count: 1.8K

Dark brown eyes getting darker with every lie dripping from his tongue.

Lying about where he’s been, where he’s going, who he’s been with. He keeps you close enough to pleasure, but never close enough to please.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your feelings changed, when his feelings changed. Had you been the fool all along? Had you been the prey begging, hoping, praying to change the predator who was hopeless to begin with?

Loving Joel came natural to you. Sucking in air and feeling your stomach drop with every glance he gave you, knowing you were coming into this Jackson bar looking for him...you wouldn’t admit it though. Walking over to the bar top, settling down across the bar, making sure Joel could see you in the outfit you knew he’d kill you for wearing.

“Any whiskey ya got, on the rocks...please” you ordered your drink, dragging your eyes up at Joel as he scoffed at your order. You don’t even like whiskey, but the pain of that burn was better than the pain Joel had been causing you.

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m asking because you can’t keep fucking with my head, Joel.” you pleaded to the somber man in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, girl. Startin’ with me when you know it ain’t never got you anywhere.” his words echoed. The shake of his head as he walked past you could cut a thousand wounds into you.

He stood at the edge of his bedroom door, turning only to throw your shirt into your chest.

“Get dressed, y/n. I don’t got time for your tantrums today.” turning on his heel out the bedroom door, your voice calls him back...

“So that’s it, huh? Fuck me for months, practically force me to move in, and never open up to me?” screaming loud enough for all of Jackson to hear, you’d had enough. This was your breaking point.

The look in his eyes as he takes menacing steps towards you had you cowering, the confidence you once thought you had slipped away as Joel’s tall figure looks down at you, bumping your chest until you were slammed up against the wall. The air being rushed out of your lungs as both his arms caged you in beside your head.

His right hand snakes down underneath your chin to force your eyes up at his blown out brown ones,

“Darlin...” the country twang in his voice drowning out any other noise threatening to break through his four walls.

“Darlin...funny how you never seem to complain when you’re havin’ at it on my cock.”

Fuck. The foulness of his truth had tears threatening to fall from your eyes. He knows you’d have nothing to say to that. Knows how much you enjoy yourself with him.

“And for as you put it...forcin’ you to move in with me, why don’t ya take your shit nd’ bring your attitude back to your own place, sweetheart.” Joel backed away from you, his boots shaking the floor as he practically ran out of his room.

“I’ve got other business to attend to, and it don’t include a crybaby ruinin’ my day.”

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s where you’d left off with Joel the day before. Crying as you gathered all you could and brought it to the place you were originally staying in Jackson. It felt desolate, a place you didn’t recognize.

That same night, sleeping without Joel felt better than you expected. Fuck that guy. You were worth more than some middle aged man using you as a his own personal masturbation toy. Even though you’d gotten closer to Ellie while you were sharing his space, leaving was the right thing to do. She’d understand. She was the one begging you to try and pry emotions out of Joel.

“y/n, I know he really cares about you. You should ask him if he’s ready to finally let the town know you guys are together!”

Memories of her words flicker back into your head. Please...like that’d ever happen. Joel made sure to never show any PDA while out with you, and always avoided questions about you, even when asked by family.

Patrolling with Joel and his brother one day proved that to be true...

“Glad to see someone’s keeping my brother young” Tommy joked as you walked beside Joel, feeling him distance himself from you,

“Let’s focus on clearing this building huh Tommy” he didn’t look at you. Kept walking ahead, leaving Tommy behind him to match your path as you walked. Tommy looked at you with a kind smile, a sort of apology for bringing it up. He could see how much Joel’s nonchalant, cold attitude towards you in that moment knocked you on your feet emotionally.

But he’d made up for it that night by fucking you stupid against his flimsy mattress. And you secretly hoped that’s what this encounter would turn into. His eyes bore into you from across the bar as you laughed and flirted with the bartender. Liam. How would it make him feel to see someone else scoop up the woman he’s been too much of a bitch to claim.

“Liam...gosh you are just sooooo strong!” you reached for his left forearm, squeezing and giggling as he blushed. He poured you another glass, sliding it towards you,

“This ones on the house, gorgeous” he winked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel those same butterflies in your stomach you felt just a few months ago. Except this guy is definitely your age, and definitely your type.

Your mind clouded as you took the first sip of your new drink, not aware of the angry grey haired man that made it his mission to make sure you had no happiness if you were in his proximity.

The drink spilled from your lips and down your dress as big warm hands grabbed at your elbow, dragging you up and out of your seat, throwing you against the bar. Your eyes wide and weary, staring at the 5′11 man who’s nostrils were flaring in front of you.

His heavy breathing was heard first, then the gruff tone of his voice

“What the hell do you think you’re doing y/n?”

Joel’s brown eyes throwing daggers at you. The pressure of which he’s holding your elbow has you wincing and trying squirm out of his grip, but to no avail.

“I’m enjoying a nice cocktail...i should say was enjoying now that you’ve gone and spilled it all over me you fucking prick.” your voice growling on the tail end of your sentence.

Joel’s eyes watch the bartender scurry to the opposite end of the bar, knowing to keep his distance from the one and only Joel Miller.

His eyes darting back down to you as he lets go of arm to sneak his hand around the base of your neck, grabbing and pushing you in front of him.

“Well then darlin’, how ‘bout I help you clean your act up. Lookin’ like the town slut here in my bar.” his lips get close to your ear as he speaks, still pushing you by your skull closer to the bathroom.

You fight him gently as he manhandles you into the bathroom, throwing you in and locking the door behind him.

“Wow, Miller...didn’t expect such a public display of emotion for me” you tease, smiling at the man in front of you who’s about ready to rip your clothes off your body and maim you for the world to see.

As those words leave your mouth, you see the corner of his lip twist up, eyes lightening as he lets out an amused laugh. “Oh. You are treading on some mighty thin ice” he threatens. He continues, not letting you get a word in after,

“That’s what this is? you think you can teach old Joel a lesson or somethin’?” he moves closer to you, gripping your sides as he walks you as far back as the porcelain sink that is now digging into your back. A painful gasp leaves your lips...

“Listen here, girl.” his hands dig harder into your hips, lips trailing down till you feel his breath against your ear,

“You don’t get to control me.” his grip on your hips loosens just to spin you around so you’re now staring at yourself and him up against you in the bathroom mirror, porcelain still causing pain, now to your stomach.

He leans you over, your face colliding with the mirror. One of his hands held in your hair and the other scratching at your thigh to lift your dress to your hips, bundling the fabric up till your black thong is the only thing he sees.

“I’m gonna enjoy putting you back in your place, baby girl.”

You want to say you expected this level of anger from Joel, but as you felt him rip your thong to the side and shove 2 digits inside of you without warning, you knew you fucked up. 

A light moan left your lips as he pumped his index and middle finger inside of you, using his thumb to lightly rub circles against your clit.

“Joel, fuck...please” you begged, but for what you didn’t know.

He let go of your face, opting to place that hand in your hair instead, pulling you slightly up to face yourself in the mirror. Forcing you to watch yourself come undone on his fingers...

“Aww” his eyes met yours in the mirror, smiling as you dripped onto his fingers, pushing yourself back to take as much of him as you could.

“A shame you’re only sweet when I’m fuckin’ the attitude out of ya’“ you whine as he removes his fingers from you, also letting go of your hair.

You hold onto the sink bent over, turning back to see him unbuckling his belt. Your eyes find the spot he’s trapped in, going wide as you watch him begin to stroke himself out of his jeans,

“Joel, I’m sorry, please, please fuc-”

You were cut off by a hard slap to your ass, the sound echoing off the walls...that’s going to leave a mark

“Fucking you was gon’ happen with or without the pleading, darlin’”

Your stomach dropped as your felt him grab your hips, lining himself up with you before ruthlessly pushing inside of you without warning,

“Got’damn” he moaned behind you as he set a harsh snapping pace, grabbing your hips back as leverage,

You felt him everywhere, the bruises forming on your skin were him, the smell of whiskey filled your senses, fuck you’d have to wash this dress now.

Sounds of Joel grunting behind you made you smile, the feeling of being stretched by him over and over and over had your head swirling, barely being able to breathe through the moans Joel was pulling from you.

His pace begins to quiver, brutally snapping into you chasing his own high as you feel your legs become mush, only being help up by the force of his grip. His thrusts becoming sharp as he pulls completely out of you to force himself back into you, growling lowly from above you

“Don’t hear..” snap...”you complainin’...” snap...”from up here now”..snap

You practically scream as his thrusts push you against the mirror yet again, feeling the harsh glass on your forehead as Joel doesn’t let you move.

“Please...please i’m gonna cum, Joel”

He’s holding you up as your legs give, moaning and blabbering as you feel yourself begin to let go, closing your eyes tight and then....

You feel empty, Joel pulling out of you and letting go of your hips. Watching you fall to the ground, jello legs not stable enough to keep you up.

You look up at the brown eyed man, stroking himself as you’re still trying to process what’s happening.

You reach for him, hoping to feel his touch, feel any type of warmth from him, but he just steps back, rushing to the porcelain sink which you’d grown all too familiar with in these past few minutes,

“Joel?” you question, watching as he paints the sink with his release, moaning as he’s holding onto the side, biting his bottom lip as his head falls back and his eyes close. “Fuck”

You watched as he came back down, frown permanently plastered to on face.

He finally turned to you as he pushed himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt securely,

“What?” he smirked down at you, his intimidating eyes forcing you to sit up and adjust your disheveled dress.

“Now,”... “you know s’well as I know” he walks to the bathroom door, unlocking it and turning back to you,

“Crybabies don’t get to cum.”

[munsoninthedark86]

Sure Know Something(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: male masturbation, panty sniffing, fantasies of the sexual nature, Eddie getting caught, some dirty talk, general smuttiness.

word count: 0.8k

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

You like to spend the night with him. Eddie always believes it’s just you being his best friend. He doesn’t actually think you like him back. But he’s been crushing on you since he was a kid. He can’t help it, you just make him crazy. Everything about you makes his heart race, and his cock so hard. That’s why, when he finds a pair of your panties on the floor in his room, he instantly brings it to his nose. A pair of panties, you so happen to not notice you weren’t wearing after a long, drunken night. A pair that you just thought you lost in the washing machine. And here they were, in Eddie’s hands. He doesn’t care why they are here, just that they are here.

Dammit, he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But your scent drives him crazy. Instantly, he’s erect. The smell of you makes his mind go fuzzy and he’s beginning to fantasize about what he would do to you if you were in this very room with you. First, he’d probably have to get the balls to actually make a move.

“Jesus christ, that girl…” He mutters, realizing he needs to relieve himself. The young man settles on the bed, his hands busying them with the tasks of unbuckling his belt.

A grunt erupts from him as he frees his cock from the confines of his cotton boxers. The head is red and leaking already, making him blush at just how excited he got from finding a pair of your panties in his room. He starts with slow strokes, the cold metal of his rings contrasting greatly with the heat coming from his dick. Eddie bites his lip, and his eyes flutter shut. In his mind, you’re here with him. You wiggle your hips playfully as he fucks his fist to you stripping for him.

“That’s a good boy,” you coo playfully. Eddie blushes at your praise for him. He’s found out through his fantasies that he loves being praised and being called a good boy.

Another giggle falls from your lips, and ohfuckohgod, Eddie feels like he could already blow his load. When it comes to you, he always gets way too excited. If he were to finally make a move, there’s no way he could last even a couple of seconds inside of you. A fact he likes to exclude from his fantasies. When he thinks about you, he likes to imagine himself making you come undone so many times.

Eddie groans your name, and he fucks his fist a little faster. He’s so deep into his fantasy about you. You’re removing your clothes so slowly, but everything is moving at the pace that Eddie enjoys. He brings your panties to his face and takes a long inhale. You smell like heaven. His fucking mouth waters and he’s pathetically whimpering your name as his hips rock a little more desperately.

“Shit—” Eddie chokes, “I’m gonna cum so fucking quick if you continue to act like this with me.”

He doesn’t notice you calling out his name from the front door of the trailer. He just keeps up with his fantasy. Your soft hands touching him all over, caressing his cock gently.

“Hey Eddie! You home?” You call out. You hear something from his bedroom, so you decide to go investigate.

When you open that door, you aren’t at all prepared for the sight that befalls you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel a jolt of arousal course through you. Eddie, on his fucking bed, your goddamn panties on his face, and he’s touching himself. Touching himself to thoughts of you, you’re so fucking sure of it.

His eyes finally snap open and when he sees you, he’s panicking. He throws the panties away from his face, and he’s trying to cover his painfully obvious erection.

“Holy shit! Don’t you know how to knock?!” His voice goes a little higher than normal, and you just begin backing out.

“Didn’t you hear me calling out your name?!” You yell back, you’ve closed the door a little so he can have some privacy.

Eddie is cursing himself under his breath. He can’t even think of a good excuse for this. You saw everything. Your panties are lying on the ground, only a few feet from the door. You’re still so aroused. You want to go in there and give him a hand, but you don’t want to embarrass him to death.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie calls. You open the door and you’re surprised to see him naked from the waist up, and his cock throbbing in his fist.

You bite your lip and cock your head towards him, and he just smirks. The tape clicks in the tape player, a familiar tune coming from the speakers enveloping you in the sensations.

I've been up and down

I've been all around

I was mystified

Almost terrified

But late at night I still hear you

Call my name

“How about we finish that fantasy of mine? I think I’m right at the part where you ride my cock.”

[anticomedygarden]

wolf

-

tw: blood and injury

sequel

-

"Fuck, fuck, motherfucking christ, jesus, fuck," Sirius muttered as he tore off his steaming shirt and pants and tried to ignore the frankly disturbing sounds coming from outside.

The young man had just gotten home after a 16-hour shift at the hospital, and he was not in the fucking mood. As soon as he'd gotten home, he sped through a shower, changed into pajamas, and heated up some leftover soup James had sent with him last weekend, and all he wanted was to eat and watch some mindless TV, and that was exactly what he had been about to do, at least until something made a loud crashing sound outside, and he flinched so badly that he spilled his hot soup all over himself. 

Now his thighs and stomach were burning, his clothes were unwearable, the couch was ruined, there was soup everywhere, and some-animal-or something was probably dying from blunt force trauma in his front yard. Fuck.

He sighed and walked into the laundry room. Doctors didn’t need sleep, right?

Once he found a shirt and old football shorts good enough for his own front yard at 5:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, the strange noises had mostly stopped, and Sirius deemed it safe enough to venture outside. After all, if he didn't, one of his neighbors would, and that could only result in a call from the commonhold.

Walking toward the front door, he wondered idly if the sun was out yet. As an ER doctor who often worked overtime, he missed the sunrise and sunset most days, and his thick curtains rarely let any light in, a so far unsuccessful strategy to combat his insomnia.

The sun was not out. It was dark as fuck. He tripped on a rock.

"I hope you're happy with yourself," he muttered, even as he clearly saw absolutely nothing in the yard. Groaning, he walked around to the side of the house and stopped short.

There was trash everywhere. The garbage bins were completely overturned, old food was strewn across the lawn, and the bin lids had rolled into the neighbor's property. Christ, this would take hours to clean up.

Just as he was setting the lids back on his side of the property line, he heard a thud and a low moan.

With one last mournful look at his front door, Sirius traipsed into the backyard, and got his third shock of the morning.

A massive grey wolf was laying sprawled out in his bushes, blood from a dozen wounds leaking sluggishly into the dirt. Immediately, Sirius snapped into ER mode. 

First, he ran his hand along the inside of the animal’s inner thigh until he found a pulse - slow, but definitely there. Then, he checked quickly for any head, neck, or back injuries, and finding none, carefully lifted the thing in his arms, wincing at the feeling of blood on his bare skin. He stumbled to the back door, staggering under the weight of the easily 200 lb canine. The door swung open easily which meant he forgot to lock it again, but within two minutes, Sirius was setting the wolf down on the cement floor of his basement. 

Next, he ran upstairs and grabbed his emergency medical bag and ran back downstairs, then ran back upstairs when he remembered that wounds on dogs should be cleaned with water, not disinfectant, and got several wet towels. 

When he made it back downstairs, he quickly knelt and started taking stock of the injuries. They all seemed to be surface level claw marks with what looked like large bite marks here and there, nothing deep but several long and still bleeding. 

“All right, bud, I’m gonna start cleaning some of these scratches,” Sirius told the dog, a habit he’d picked from one of his instructors. The wolf didn’t give any sign of awareness, not even when he touched the wet cloth to the biggest scratch on the animal’s back. “Something really got you good, huh, buddy?” 

He continued cleaning the wounds and eventually moved onto bandages until the wolf’s whole abdomen as well as a hind leg were all wrapped up. Sirius would still have to get the animal seen by a vet, but for now, it would do. 

He moved to stand but stopped when the wolf gave an absolutely pitiful whine and turned its snout toward Sirius. It whined again. 

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, rubbing the animal behind the ears. “Good morning.”

Suddenly, the animal’s eyes opened wide, revealing beautiful amber orbs, and the thing fucking screamed. Horrified, Sirius fell backward, and there was nothing he could do but watch as the wolf writhed on the floor, and, as if that wasn’t enough, its fur started disappearing, pulled back into what looked like golden-tan human skin. The elongated snout retreated to form a normal human nose, the ears shrank, leading into matted light brown curls, and the clawed paws turned into human hands, stained with blood, and then Sirius was looking at a fully grown human man. 

“What the fuck?”

-

word count: 843 @wolfstarmicrofic