#smash that glass ceiling girl

[sailormoonsub]

Adfjkldsajflkd;as when your safe heterosexual crush turns out to be the OPPOSITE of a safe heterosexual crush

[lesbicastagna]

i hate tinder so much it makes me hate my fellow gay women like We are adults we are dykes you need to start leading the convo with "daddy wants to take you to the woodshed" type of energy. if someone asks if i prefer cats or dogs another time i'm blowing myself up

[lovegasmic]

i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA

⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.

 ⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷

I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^

there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.

he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’

Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.

it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.

walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.

“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.

“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.

we should hang out soon ;)

and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.

“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.

“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.

“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.

it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.

Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.

“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.

“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”

you swallow, “what are you doing here?”

“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”

“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”

he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.

“tell me what’s wrong”

“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”

“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”

you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.

“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.

“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.

there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”

“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.

“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”

“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.

he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”

reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤

[kulemiwrites]

𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Genre: SMUT

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2k

Character(s): Sylus (Shin), fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time in a long time sharing a non-yakuza, non-ss fic, so I'm super nervous! I started on this back in August and kept giving up on it but somehow today I managed to power through! I wanted to make this a little something more than just smashing a fave but as of now there's still LOTS to learn about Shin. Hopefully it's decent?

Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3!

You can't get enough of him and who was he to deny his sweet girl?

The rustle of sheets shifting beneath desperate bodies had nearly been silenced by the ferocious song of labored breathing and damp skin connecting. Sharp hisses, quiet promises and gratified curses pushed through swollen, parted lips. His– pink and plush– slipped between his pearly whites in a sad attempt to mute himself but he was unsuccessful. There was no hiding how good his cock felt buried deep within your smooth, sticky velvet. Greedy, spongy walls selfishly sucked him back in stroke after savory stroke.

It was too much, and yet, not nearly enough.

Tears of sweat raced along Sylus’ tall, sinewy body. The night lights of the bustling city you’d just spent a whole day exploring, peaked through the floor to ceiling windows. Neither of you had bothered to draw the curtains before you fell into bed, chasing each other’s lips and caress. Now, with the city’s blessing, you were graced with the sight of his muscles bulging and veins dancing with each deep roll of his hips. His fair skin shined like pearls of alabaster. The city’s illumination wasn’t too generous though. It softened his features and hid just how lust-ridden his expression actually was.

He’d promised himself when you checked into the hotel this evening that he would be on his best behavior, that he’d rest with you after your showers and keep his hands to himself. However, encouraged by the couple glasses of vino he’d ordered you at dinner, you stripped out the sexy red dress that he’d had painstakingly tailored for your gorgeous figure shortly after entering the room and dropped it to puddle around your feet. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself all day and the build up led you to mow him down the moment you had him all to yourself.

And who was he to deny the whims of his favorite kitten?

You had been writhing and moaning beneath him for no less than twenty minutes now and though you’d reached your peak twice, it was written in your starry eyes that you desperately needed more. Sylus had been dying to cum since since orgasm #1 but he always prided himself in being the one who could satisfy you like no other. 

When he took you to bed, he always encouraged you to use him to your heart's content. Each time he sank his long, thick cock inside your heat, he was convinced that this was what he was placed onto the planet to do. 

Nothing ever felt more right than this. 

The way his balls tightened at the thought practically confirmed that as fact and it drove him fucking insane. 

You spread your legs further, slippery fingers gripping at his waist in an attempt to pull him in deeper. A curt breath pushed through his nostrils as his lips curled in a jeer. How cute, he thought as he hooked his own deft fingers beneath your right knee and lifted it to rest your leg above his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss against your ankle, your foot dangling above his ear. 

Sylus knew that if he kept up at this pace he would wind up spilling himself inside of you. Though he angled himself to offer you the final inch of cock that you’d been craving for, he softened and slowed his stroke. 

You let out a groan, expressing your discontent with this without a word but he continued as he were, flashing a teasing but apologetic smirk. It wasn’t lost on him what you wanted but for now, just for now, he had to ignore your desires until he could gather himself once again. Pressing a kiss to your lips, he mentally promised to give you what you wanted… in due time. 

You reached for his face, nimble fingers unknowingly trailing behind a bead of sweat that raced along his sharp jawline then dripped off his chin. “Sy, don’t stop!”

He craned his head to catch one of your knuckles between his lips, giving it a sweet peck, hips still rolling gently against you, “Sweetie, if I don’t lighten up, I’ll cum…”

The same fingers he’d leaned in to kiss, slithered up his neck then tangled themselves in the short, damp hair at the back of his head before pulling him down until he was but a breath apart from your lips. Lowering your leg from its rightful place above his broad shoulder, you wrapped it and its twin around his undulating waist. 

A sharp gasp escaped his lips, his scarlet gaze widened down at you.

You gripped the short of his hair tighter, all but snatching it from his scalp as you locked him in place using your heels to guide his thrusts for an added emphasis. 

“Dont. Fucking. Stop!” you panted, then sank your teeth into his bottom lip.

A pointed groan ripped from deep within his diaphragm. His dark, narrow brows twitched with nearly the same intensity as his body. Sylus’ large, clammy hand was shaky in its reach for the pillow haloed around your head. Loud moans sounded out as he managed just a few more deep, stuttering thrusts with your guidance and then his entire body stiffened…

Did he just…?

Horror chilled his body just as quickly as the lust that lit him on fire. 

He could barely count on his own strength to hold him up above you. Second by second his arms grew limp, practically useless. 

This… had never happened before. 

Did he really just react to you taking charge as if he were a virgin getting his cock wet for the first time in his life? Thoughts poured into him like alphabet soup– scrambled and senseless. What had you done to him? Surely he was capable of far more vigor than his…

Ruby red poured over your face, attempting to study you while maintaining his own composure. Was this the night he’d disappoint you? Would you believe him if he told you that this was exactly what he planned to do? He wondered.

A wickedness curled the corners of your mouth and delight flashed in your eyes.

For once, he found you impossible to read. Were you amused at his lackluster performance? Were you pleased with yourself for getting exactly what you wanted? Or… Was there something else? 

Once again securing your legs around his waist, song fell from your parted lips as you rocked into him, helping yourself over and over to his softening cock. Pathetic whimpers escaped him as he watched your eyes roll back, completely indifferent to the sensitivity plaguing member. Your nails combed at his scalp as you pulled him closer, giggling softly as you pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Biting back a groan, he whispered against yours. “Are you not done with me yet, kitten?”

His pulse was already out of control but the mind-numbingly beautiful smile you flashed at him as you shook your head was nearly enough to double it. A playful scoff brushed warmly against your glistening face. 

“That so?”

Sylus dug his fingertips into the pillow, gripping until he’d made a fist. Biting back the embarrassing moan that itched his throat, he wound his jaw. He steeled himself, resting his weight onto his hands that were stretched out to claw at the lumpy sheets surrounding you. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to roll his hips once again, trying his best to regain just enough composure to take back control. This sensitivity however, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. 

His thick cock twitched inside of you, blood pumping in efforts to rejuvenate itself. He felt as if he was becoming more hard this time than he was right before he’d come. 

“Fuck, ____.” he grunted through clenched teeth.

It wasn’t common for him to use your name, especially in moments like this but now he’d been uttering it against your skin like a prayer. You were the goddess he was hoping would show him mercy. Of course, his prayers would go unanswered. He worshiped a selfish deity, one that saw no error in using him and received pleasure from his torment.

And he wanted it no other way.

The thought would have made him laugh had he not been dying from overstimulation. 

At what point did he become the type to all but beg to be fucked like this? Just exactly when did you come to wield such power over him? How did he allow himself to become so utterly pathetic? 

You pulled him in for a messy kiss as if sensing the whirlpool that was his thoughts and sought to silence them. He had become putty in your hands– Or perhaps, he always had been? Each time he fell under your touch, he watched him stray further and further from the Sylus he’d so ardently crafted. The man practically ripping a hole into the fabric of these very expensive sheets as he frantically pounded you was a stranger to him.

“Ah, that feels so good, Sy!” you whined, your hands slipping from his head back down to grip pathetically at his dripping waist. “Please, don’t stop!”

“Of course, Sweetie.” he panted harshly, his expression hardening as he glanced down at your sloppy connection. Both his cum and your arousal splashed back against his thighs, a ring of cream likely building up around the base of his cock. 

Then, he stared at your beautiful face. Pretty lips parted, brows needled together to signify your desperation, and your eyes, the ones that made his heart stutter each time they’d connected with his, were laser focused on the way he’d been splitting you. While you lost yourself to his cock, he lost himself within you. 

Who was he? Right now, who was he really?

He knew the answer to that a long time ago but right now, he didn't have the foggiest clue…

Sylus felt your walls contracting around him, the grip like a vice as his balls tightened no matter how hard he fought against the buckle of his stroke. He was intent on churning through that sensitivity, now utterly delicious, in an effort to usher his sweet kitten to the taste of bliss she was so fervently chasing. 

Focus, Sylus. Fucking focus. He told himself. 

You buried your nails deep into his biceps, crescent moons would soon fill with blood and he left them as it. He had no intention of faltering.  

“Comin–!” you forced out, sweaty back arching off of the bed.

He gripped at your waist, slamming you down to meet his clumsy thrusts. A stream of your juices sprayed out onto him but he continued to pound, guiding you to once again to wrap your legs around his waist. Once you did, a loud roar of your name left him as he filled you one more time. Together with him, a chorus of pleasured moans filled the air until soon he drowned yours out.

“Agh, AGH! aH!” he groaned, thrusting until he could no longer. 

Your hands fell from his arms, limp at your side and with a shudder, Sylus plopped down onto you, still careful not to squish you with his body weight. 

His brows twitched with frustration as he fought to catch his breath. Fuck… He was so certain he would be able to last longer that time.

He rested on his forearm then used his free hand to guide you to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” he managed through a huff. “Give me a bit and we can try again if you’re still not satisfied.”

An almost derpy smile spread across your lips as you ran your hand through his silver strands, so sweaty that most of it slicked back with ease, showing off his tired but oh, so very handsome face. Shaking your head, you whispered. “No, you were perfect… That was amazing. Thank you.”

His scarlet eyes bounced between yours as a smile that could rival yours spread across his plush lips. You didn’t miss the way they glimmered with pride as he stared down at you. 

“No need to thank me, Sweetie.” he whispered right before giving you one final kiss, one to communicate the adoration he felt for you at that moment. “You’re welcome to use me anytime.” 

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite. Reblogs always appreciated.

[luveline]

More zombie au! Steve!!! Please! It’s literally so good I love how you write Steve all protective <3

thank you ♡ steve zombie au —steve gets sick. you meet a dark-haired stranger while looking for meds. fem!reader 2k

You compare your arm to the bottle in your hand. You've written a list of generic and brand name antibiotics in biro on your forearm, but they're smudging from nervous sweat. You're getting desperate. 

Nothing seems to match. You're shaking with aching arms and legs, fucking terrified as you sift through a floor of orange and white pill bottles that nothing is going to match your list, and worse, the pharmacy grows darker by the hour. You don't have a torch. 

Things are getting pretty bad at camp. There's not enough food to go around, no batteries, and now Steve's… 

A bottle slips out of your hand and knocks into another. You cringe and pick up the next. You've been searching for hours without sitting down, as hiding underneath the bottles is a carpeting of grainy glass from the smashed shelves. Three of your fingertips have cut and scabbed since you got here. 

"Fuck," you whisper, glaring at another wrong medication. "Fuck, fuck." 

Amoxicillin, ciprofloxacin, flucloxacillin. Anything to stop Steve's infection from getting into his blood. It's a gross wound, oozy and inflamed, and when you'd left him with Robin dutiful at his side his skin had glowed with heat like glass held in the centre of a furnace. Even with his eyes closed, he'd known what you were about to do. 

"Don't fucking leave," he'd grit out, fingers twitching up for your hand. 

You'd leaned forward and kissed his damp forehead. "I have to go. I love you. I'll be right back." 

That was ten hours ago at least. You have no idea what condition Steve might be in, so sure you'd find the pills and be back in arm's reach by noon. How sick can he get before it's too much? 

"Shit," you whisper, your fingers tingling. 

"What are you looking for?" 

You fall backward with a sharp gasp, pill bottles biting into your thighs. Your face swings around but the source of the voice is unclear, empty shelves and aisles either side of you. 

"Chill out–" 

"Where the fuck are you?" you demand, scrambling onto your feet with the use of one sacrificed palm. Glass like needles serrates your skin. "Fuck! Come out, loser!" 

"Hey, no need to be mean. I'm up in the ceiling." 

You look up. Peeking out from a displaced ceiling tile is a pale face silhouetted by a matt of dark hair. 

"You fucking little freak," you say, though you feel bad immediately. He's smiling and he isn't pointing any weapons at you, which is more than most strangers allow on the road. "Why are you up there?"

"I wanted to see if you had a gun, stupid." 

"You're stupid, stupid. What if it was in my bag?" 

"Point it at me, then!" 

You stare at him in silence. 

"That's what I thought," he says, framing a face in two hands like a baby angel on a gift card. "Can I come down or are you gonna keep bitchin'?" 

"Don't fucking come down here." 

"Or what?" he asks. 

"I'll get my gun out." 

"Mm, okay," he mocks. "I'll come help you find whatever it is that has your panties in a twist." 

"I swear to god–" 

"Listen. I'm a good guy, I swear." 

"That's what bad guys say." 

The stranger laughs a weird giggly laugh and climbs backwards. The ceiling tiles stress visibly under his weight but make no noise as he disappears from view. He swears a couple of times on the way down, unseen, before the stockroom door swings open and he appears in his intimidating glory in the doorway.

"If you kill me," you say, eyeing his spiked wristbands and the machete strapped to his waist with horrified apprehension, "my boyfriend will avenge me. Like, hunt you to the ends of the earth and slice you into little tiny pieces of vengeance." 

"That sounds like my kind of party, but your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. I got a girl." 

"Don't say rock and roll." 

"How the fuck would you guess that?" he asks, hand flying to the back of his neck for a bashful scratch. 

"My life feels like a shitty gimmicky horror movie, and you look the part." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I need antibiotics." 

"You and everybody else in the world. This for your vengeful boyfriend?" 

You don't need him knowing who they're for. He could be an evil guy, and the threat of Steve waiting for you might be your trump card. "No. My vengeful boyfriend left to look for cans in the shelter." 

"He'll be back soon, then." 

You take a step back. "I'll gouge your eyes out if you try anything, I'm serious. I don't care how big your knife is–" 

"I'm Eddie." Eddie smiles at you, shoving his hands into cargo pockets. Despite his weird questions and his choice of apparel, he looks less intimidating in the lingering light of the setting sun as it seeps between window shutters. "I don't want to hurt you." He frowns. "Any kind of hurt." 

"Can I have the machete?" 

"Nope. I can go put it down somewhere, though, if that's less scary." 

You shake your head, and with a great big sigh, lean down to sift through bottles. If he's going to hurt you, he might as well get on with it. The longer you spend talking to him, the sicker your Steve becomes. 

"You need antibiotics bad?" Eddie asks, his voice softening. 

"My best friend is sick." You toss a bottle, pick up another. "Infection probably getting into his blood. If I don't find something tonight, he's gonna die." 

"Well, we can't have that," Eddie says, crouching down to help. 

You sweep through bottle after bottle of things you wish you needed. Painkillers, sleeping pills, laxatives. Good shit, and nothing you need. 

"You know…" Eddie sighs. "I know you could lie to me, but is it just you, boyfriend and the dying bestie, or?"

You're not sure what the right answer is. Better for him to think you have an army waiting if you get lost, or better to hide them? He could belong to a cult of cannibals. Only… his clothes are squeaky clean. His curls shine with a gloss that comes solely with conditioner, which means he has the time and security to really wash things. 

But murders can wash their clothes, right?

"There's a couple of us," you say. 

"You're not from that place west, are you?" 

You put a pill bottle down slowly. "West?" 

"Yeah, there were people there, hundreds of 'em. We got a few stragglers, survivors from the fucking massacre that happened a few weeks ago. One girl said there must've been thirty, forty kids there, it's fucking awful." 

You swallow a lump. "Awful," you agree.

"Hopper says we can track down the people who did it if we just follow the blood trail," Eddie says, slipping into a theatrical bravado that won't stick. "I don't know… someone needs to stop them." 

You choke, "Hopper? Chief Hopper?" 

"Wait, you're from Hawkins?" Eddie asks. 

You give each other boggled looks, a thrumming hope building in your chest like a flickering flame in the dead of winter. 

"I think you better come back with me," Eddie says. 

"I need antibiotics," you say, wanting to explain it to him and now knowing how. Or even if you should. Awesome, Hopper's alive, but that doesn't mean Eddie's group are good people, or that they can help you. There's nothing anyone in the world can do for you right now if they don't have a handful of Augmentin. 

"You're from The College." 

"I don't have time for this," you say, half apology and half frustration. "Yeah, we were from The College, and now it's gone, and my boyfriend's gonna die if you don't help me find the right pills." You wince and snatch up another stupid bottle. 

"I can get you antibiotics," Eddie says, "but you're gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"No." 

—

Steve wakes up two days later in an unfamiliar building. 

His eyes are made of sand, he can hardly breathe it's that cold, each breath as sharp as a needle as he sucks it in, but there's a roof over his head, a blanket over his chest, and your voice, your laugh rings like a song in the air. 

"He didn't do that, you're lying," you say with a laugh, pulling Steve's hand to your chest. 

"He did." Steve stiffens at the voice. Deeper, rougher than yours. "I swear on my life, he jumped right into Lover's Lake and swam backstroke to prove he could beat Louisa Park's best." 

"Did he beat her time?" 

"No, but he had a condom stuck to his ankle when he got out. Wasn't worth it." 

"Steve," you say. Steve thinks you've noticed he's waking up, but you hug his hand with a sympathetic sigh. "That's so embarrassing. You better wake up soon, I have making fun of you to do." 

"I think I'll stay asleep," he says hoarsely. 

You gasp and choke his fingers between yours. "Steve?" You climb up onto the bed, your weight dipping the mattress under his back. Your hand comes careful and warm against his chilled cheek. "You're awake. You're awake?" 

He strains to unglue his top lashes from his bottom lashes. You beam at him, the little scars around your mouth from a cruel hand shining in the white morning light. 

"What time is it?" he asks. 

"It's, like, seven in the morning." 

"I've been asleep that long?" 

"You've been unconscious for nearly two days," you correct. 

Steve can't remember anything. He has the barest memory of your lips on his forehead. Robin splashing cold water on him and calling him an asshole, and then, much quieter, her best friend. 

"Where's Robin?" he asks. 

"She's being Robin somewhere, you know, she loves being helpful. The kids need help getting settled." 

"And you're being lazy," Steve pokes. 

He lifts his chin so your kiss lands exactly where he wants it, the stubbly space below his jaw. You wrap your arms around him and hug him severely, squeezing his tender ribs. 

"I wasn't lazy, I had to go save you by myself." 

"Save everybody," the familiar but impossible voice adds. Steve doesn't want to believe it. He refuses to. "Like, an entire generation." 

"I didn't do anything," you say, kissing Steve again, a short path to his chapped lips. "Honey," —your voice lowers, your confession for Steve's ears alone— "I'm so happy you're okay. I was really, really scared." 

Steve feels the weight of your fear like a dumbell on his chest, but he's uber confused. Propping his chin over your shoulder and hugging you back, the evil wound on his arm that caused this whole mess throbbing like fire under his bandage, Steve sets his eyes on the boy sitting on the chair next to yours. 

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie says warmly, eyes dripping with a put upon affection. "Miss me?" 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steve asks. 

"Saving the day, obviously." 

"I can't believe I found one of your friends," you say, sitting up a little to smile at him. You really are gorgeous in his eyes, better than any movie star. Your beatific little grin stirs something, but Eddie's snort stomps it dead. 

"We're not friends," Steve says. 

You stroke Steve's face with the back of your hand. "Don't be like that. He's really nice…" Your smile melds itself to a concerned frown. "I thought you were kicking it, Stevie. How's your arm feeling? Does it hurt a lot?" 

"It's fine," he says dismissively, wrapping his stronger arm around your waist. He's not jealous or anything, it's just cold in here, honest. "Munson, where the fuck did you come from?" 

"Right here, Stevie." 

"We're not far from the camp," you explain, stroking his face once again. "Or, we weren't when it was there. We're merging with this one to make a mega camp." 

"Why would we do that? We don't know that we can trust these people." 

"No, but we can trust Hopper." You smile. Steve knows things are gonna be okay, as long as you can smile like that. He leans his cheek into your hand, loved and relieved and– 

"Hopper?" Steve asks. 

"Jesus, Harrington," Eddie says, rolling his shoulders. "Keep up. If you can't comprehend the easy stuff, you're not gonna believe what we haven't told you." 

"What haven't you told me?" Steve asks. 

You push his shoulders down into the pillows. "I think you better lay down first." 

[quitealotofsodapop]

Sun Wukong is such a cool character across the board since if you genderbent the character - very little would change other than the reactions of those around them.

LMK: Same character. Only difference is brief confusion from MK and Tang, who adjust their pronouns when speaking of Dawn accordingly. Relationship with Macaque unchanged.

Hero is Back: Short red hair, chewing on hay, tall af? Thats half the butch farmers in my county. Liuer has a brief moment of "The Great Sage is a woman?" before going straight back to fanboying about how cool Dasheng is. Zhu Bajie is likely shocked and appalled that he was defeated by a woman - tho still shoots his shot. Attract does not work on Dasheng. Story accidentally becomes a tale of a mother sacrificing her life to protect her son, and ends with the son sacrificing himself to protect his new mother.

Reborn: Still a chaotic hissing gremlin of a monkey. Brief moment of funny where the very feminine Taoist acolytes misgender Smokey as male since she still looks the same. Zhu Bajie hesistates to hit on Smokey (despite her very convincingly diguising herself as his wife during his recruitment), since she terrifies him. Smokey still arises from their false death cloaked in blue flame and lava. And still mourns the loss of Fruitie.

NewGods: Bigger plot twist of Ace's identity. No one has figured out her identity for so long (including Ao Guang) cus they all assumed SWK was a guy. Still a giggling, gambling lush. Yunxiang: "Hey whos this drunken, half-dressed old lady offerring to train me in exchange for a motorbike- oh sweet Buddha she's the Monkey King."

1999/2000 Cartoon: Sugar is already femme af. No change.

Netflix: Little character change, though Cherry's story would indirectly become a glass ceiling situation with the Immortals. Men can become immortal by killing lots of evil demons (source: Erlang & Hou Yi), but women gotta suffer (source: Guanyin). Bonus girl bonding with Lin.

Smash Legends: Starfruit leans into gender stereotypes for the views. Goes full tiktok e-girl with her asethetic. Would form punk girl band with Goldie.

And lets not forget how many live-action Sun Wukongs are played by women actors and/or stuntwomen.

Gender bending their Macaques also do not change much. Basically these monkeys could be any gender indentity and still be themselves

[dreamescapeswriting]

Smutober Day 12 ~ Prompt ~ Seo Changbin [M]

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader  

GENRE: established relationships, minors DNI, prompt: “That date sucked, wanna bone?” friends to lovers, unprotected sex, sweet,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - Smutober 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

The two of you stared at each other awkwardly as Changbin locked the front door, hoping to never have to open it again after a night like this,

"That was..." You were trying to find the words to express what had just unfolded in front of you but there was nothing coming up. There were so many words in the English language but none of them were ever going to be good enough to describe what you'd just had to witness. Was it possible to wipe it from your memory? Maybe even bleach your eyes at this point.

"Don't," Changbin warned you, holding his hand up for you to stop but there was no way you were going to drop this. All of the times Changbin had judged your end-of-date goodbyes, this was finally your chance to exact revenge,

"Uncomfortable? The worst thing I've ever seen in my life?" You were just saying things that came to mind while Changbin rushed over, placing his hand over your mouth,

"Stop," He whined dragging the word out but you licked his hand, smirking as he yanked away from you, mumbling about how gross you are but you smirked proudly.

"No wonder you're single because Changbin, that was awful." You gestured to the door and he rolled his eyes shaking his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Shut up." He didn't need to hear you tell him about how bad that date was, he'd been there during the date and he had no idea why the girl had even tried to kiss him.

"She went to kiss you and you shook her hand!"

"I know!" He groaned thinking back on it. All night long he'd been talking about you and yet the girl he'd gone on the date with still thought there was a shot with him? The only reason he'd gone out tonight was because of you.

"I thought you wanted to date people now." You smirked, You knew he'd gone out because you'd teased him a little,

"Can we drop the subject?" He grumbled walking away from you but you followed after him slightly feeling sorry for your roommate and best friend. 

The two of you had been living together for almost two years and you'd pointed out the other night that Changbin never seemed to bring a girl home, nor any guys.

"You need to get laid, you're too tense."

"Bit hard when the only girl I like doesn't want me," He mumbled not realising that you were within earshot. Your heart fluttered as you thought about it, You'd had a crush on him for years but you'd never said anything in fear of making things weird between you. This was your chance to offer him sex but could quickly play it off as a joke if you were careful enough.

Changbin lifted the glass of water to his lips, shaking his head as he tried to shake off the awful date he'd had.

"That date sucked, wanna bone?" His body tensed and the glass nearly slipped through his fingers. Slowly, and carefully, he turned around to face you to try and juge if this was some kind of joke,

"Yeah." He meant to say it as a question but it was already too late. Your lips smashed against his and the glass fell into the sink, shattering upon impact but neither of you cared.

The kiss was too hot and heavy, not to mention the chemistry you felt had your body screaming at you for not doing this sooner.

"Upstairs, I wanna fuck you in my bed." He whined, pulling your hand into his and rushing up toward his bedroom.

Clothes were strewn all over the room as you lay on his bed looking up at him,

"You look so beautiful," He whispered running his hand over your cheek, his cock brushing against your cunt as you whined at him,

"Please, I'm done waiting Binnie," You didn't care if you sounded desperate, this was everything you'd been dreaming of for as long as you could remember and you no longer wanted to wait for him anymore. You needed him inside of you.

"You want me to wreck this tight little pussy?" He questioned, holding his dick at your entrance and pushing only the tip in,

"Y-Yes! Please! Fuck me," You whined as he let out a groan, smirking as he slowly pushed inside of you, your eyes rolled back a little at the stretch of his dick. Nothing you'd ever imagined compared to him, nothing else was ever going to compare to him again. He was going to ruin sec forever for you but you didn't care. 

"You can move," You whispered as he slowly began to move his hips, looking at you the whole time.

"Harder...I won't break." You wink at him and he lets out a low grunt. You two were close, you knew how each other liked sex since you'd talked about it before and he bit down on his lip. 

"You want all of me?"

"Hard and fast." You whispered biting down on his lip before he growled deeply and oulled out of you. His eyes locked onto yours before slamming back into you, fucking you just the way you'd asked him to.

"Fucking! Yes!" You scream out, dragging your nails down his back as he ravaged you, fucking into you brutally and perfectly with each thrust sending your head rolling back.

"Changbin," You moaned, your legs wrapping around his waist trying to get him as close as you could to your body. The feeling of his cock inside of you drove you wild, none of the fantasies you'd don for yourself did him justice.

"You take me so well baby," He grunts out, the sound of slapping skin filling the room as you moaned out loudly. God, you never wanted this to end but at the same time you wanted him to cum, you needed him to finish and all for you.

"C-Come for me," You moaned out to him, his eyes finding yours as a deep blush began to crawl onto his chees.

"P-please, I want you...Need you to," You admitted as he continued to fuck roughly into you, your own orgasm hitting you out of nowhere as you came around his cock.

"Ugh, God yes," Changbin grunted as his thrusts grew sloppier but harder fucking the very last drop into you as you let out a small giggle.

"You're laughing, was it bad?" Insecurities grew on him but you placed your hand on his cheek,

"That was everything I'd be dreaming of," You admitted before kissing him softly and pulling him closer to you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @minhosify @choisoorin @straykids5star @heyjiminnie @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @btsiguess-kpop @halesandy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 26

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

There is no normal with Lloyd. Never expectations. But you resume the former delicate balance. Distance is the only comfort you have and he makes that fleeting. His interruptions are blunt, demanding, over just as soon as they begin. As if he’s messing with you.

Well, he’s always messing with you.

Several days blend together and blow over the dramatic episode of his drunken return. No more arguments, only terse conversation between stretches of suffocating silence.

His anger persists, though you assume it’s as much at himself as you. The way you find him rubbing his upper lip with a frown is next to comical. How could a man be so attached to a hideous patch of fur?

You scroll on your phone in a rare moment of latency. Your determination to find a way out has not yet magically conjured an escape. Job postings that pay less than your last gig, apartments that cost more than your mortgage, and cars with a questionable state. All the pieces are there but unobtainable.

There is another way. One that makes you content with staying. You’ve spent enough of your pride. You’re not ready for that

You drop your phone, exhausted from searching for gold in a mountain of sand. You take the tall glass off your nightstand and go to the door. You listen through the wood. You’ve made sure to avoid Lloyd when you can, never an easy endeavour as he sneaks up on you often.

Your steps are deliberately light as you descend the stairs. You know you heard him earlier but it was all muffled by the jet of shower water buzzing from the faucet. You go into the kitchen and push the glass against the lever, filling it with filtered water from the fridge. The subtle drone adds to the static of the large house until suddenly it erupts.

A door opens above and a female voice squeals. Impatient steps, a pair stomping and unstoppable, the other stumbling and slipping.

“Get out,” Lloyd snarls, “you ever shut the fuck up?”

“What the hell, dude?”

“I told you,” he barks as she cries out and his heavy steps bluster down the stairs, “I don’t wanna hear it. How hard is it to shut your damn mouth and play with my dick?”

You take your glass of water and follow the argument as it lands at the foot of the staircase. Lloyd drops the girl on her feet and tosses a pair of heels at her as she stumbles. Oh, you had no idea about that. Her.

“You’re gross dude.”

“And you’re not the only slut in the world, go.”

“Wow, really?”

He growls and crosses his arms, his bare back racking above his dark pants, slack and hanging askew from his hips. The woman, bleach blond, a passing resemblance to someone else, rolls her eyes as she bends and shoves her feet into her heels.

“You can at least pay for my uber.”

“Pay for what? You can’t even get me hard.”

“Ha, like that’s my problem–”

He grabs her by the throat and marches her backwards across the foyer. He stops, ripping her coat from the closet with his free hand before swinging open the door. He flings her through and throws the coat out after her.

“Fuck off!”

He slams the door and you shy back, barely able to see him as he paces angrily. He snarls and a sudden crash echoes off the high ceilings, the smash of glass and scattering of smaller items. You hold your breath and wait as he huffs in fury.

The house grows silent again, only the noise of his irritated mutters rising and falling. He goes into the den and you weigh your chance to flee. No, not enough time. You hear the clink of glass and his feet slap against the floor and to the stairs.

You emerge only when you’re certain he’s gone. You enter the foyer and look around. The console table is overturned, a vase shattered in a messy mosaic, and several silver pens littered around it as the slender drawer has been dislodged from the larger frame.

You put your glass on the little round table in the corner and cross the room. If you don’t clean this up, it’ll be waiting in the morning. Besides, you don’t feel like walking into this minefield then. You lift the table up and slide it back against the wall. The leg is bent, it won’t stand. You turn it on its side and lean it perilously before tucking the drawer against the foot.

You carefully toe around the glass, focused on not catching a stray shard as you fetch the broom. You bring a box and pick out the large pieces and gather up the pens before you start sweeping. You try not to think of the woman.

Did he sneak her in? Or had you just missed his attempt to flaunt her?

You bend to gather up the mess in the pan and as you stand, a cold stream splashes down your shoulders and soaks the back of your loose nightshirt. You gasp and nearly drop the broom and pan. You turn back as Lloyd holds the glass upside down with a grin.

“You hear all that, sweet cheeks?” He taunts as you shiver, water dripping down the back of your thighs.

“What the fuck–”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” he winks.

“What are you talking about?” You look down at yourself, a puddle of water at your feet.

“I know you were listening,” he accuses.

You stare at him and shake your head. You sidle around him and march to the kitchen, pushing your foot down on the pedal to pop open the bin and dump the pan. You clip it against the broom handle before pushing it into the closet. You take out the mop as he looms in the archway.

As you near him again, he stretches his arm across the door, blocking your path. He holds up the glass and releases it. It hits the floor and smashes against the tiles. You recoil as it breaks and sends another scatter around your toes.

“Look at me, making all these messes,” he intones.

“Accidents happen,” you shrug defiantly.

“And didn’t I make a mess of that slut,” he snickers, “pretty blond thing like her, really knows how to work that neck–”

“You think I care?”

You turn and go back to the closet. You just want to lay down, get away from him. You know he’s playing with you but why? Why does he think you care if he’s fucking around? It saves you trouble.

“Ah, I mean, all your men keep chasing after blond bimbos, it’s a bit of a pattern, isn’t it?”

You ignore him as you push the glass into a pile. You understand now. She did kinda look like Ali, same round cheeks, same big eyes.

“You’re not mine, are you?” You squat down to collect the jagged pieces in the pan, “so not really.”

He scoffs and steps closer. You stop and face him. The frustration roils off of him as he glares down at you. You wince as he reaches for the pan and plucks up a sharp triangle and holds it up. He turns it between his fingers and sucks his teeth with deep consideration.

He swipes the pan out of your grasp and grabs your chin, urging you back blindly until you hit the counter. You gasp as he angles the point against your throat. You blink up at him as you cling to the lip of the marble countertop.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone in your position,” he sneers.

You gulp and don’t say anything. He drags the edge along your skin but not hard enough to break the skin. A shuddery breath escapes him and fans over you.

“Stubborn. Little. Bitch.”

He stops and pokes until a prick makes you whimper. He slices slowly up your throat, too shallow to do more than split the flesh but deep enough for the blood to trickle out. You hold you breath as you lean away from him.

“You think you’re special,” he growls as he carves down to your collarbone, “you think I wouldn’t slit your pretty throat right here. Watch you choke on your own blood like a dying fish–”

“Lloyd,” you quiver, startled by his dilated pupils.

How little you know of this man. You live in his house and know little more than his name. But you know he’s dangerous. The clues have been there. Somehow, you never expect it to turn in your direction. You tremble as you fight to keep still.

He pulls the glass away and throws it. His hand is bloody too, gashed along the inside of his knuckles. His other falls to the front of your shirt and clutches it as he jerks you away from the counter. He puts his bloody fingers against your cheek and smears his blood down your face as you grimace.

“Lloyd, please–”

“You think I can’t get fucking hard? No, you didn’t fucking break me,” he spits, “feel for yourself, peaches. I’m hard and I need that cunt on me. Now.”

You search his face, a sinister shadow defining the angles of his nose and cheekbones, a grit in his jaw that makes you weak. You tear your hands from the marble and gently touch his forearm.

“Yes, daddy, I know,” you move his hand cautiously away from your face, the metallic scent of blood curdles in your nose, “how do you want it?”

“I want you–” he brings both hands to the collar of your shirt and rents the fabric, “I want—” he gruffly pushes the cotton back on your shoulders and shoves it down your arms, “here.”

The shirt falls under its soaked weight and piles at your heels. He reaches past you and slaps the counter. You nod and glance back. He surprises you as he he reaches around you and lifts you onto the marble. Just as quickly, he has his arms hooked under your knees as your head hits the cupboard.

You can't stop him. You can't do anything as his rage consumes you. You've always been powerless but not like this.

[hayffiebird]

How do you think Effie and haymitch met?

Hi anon! And thanks for asking! (mini-oneshot, under the cut) I always imagined Effie being Haymitch’s second escort when she was a young woman and he was a sorta young man. On the train to Twelve, new on the job, she’s very “first day of school! First day of school!” and eager to make a difference sort of like Sejanus Plinth. She’s ambitious and driven and also naive enough to think “with me on board we will have victors left and right!” Before the Reaping she decides on her own to visit the Victor’s Village and introduce herself personally to her now co-worker. She’s quite star-struck I think, on the way over there - what with the romanticized image the Capitol has of him. Obviously she doesn’t know the truth about Haymitch’s murdered family. No one really does in her city. She’s also super impressed that he won The Second Quarter Quell - one of the most difficult Games in Panem's history, and without a mentor at that! She’s probably a little smitten too (or at least she was as a young girl). Taken by those dark curls and intense gray eyes in a sort of “toughened by life but love will set him free” kind of way. But when she actually finally meet Mr. Haymitch Abernathy he effectively smashes all the illusions Effie ever had of him in less than five minutes. She goes from dazzled to disbelieving to annoyed and they end up having the first of many arguments. I imagine it went something like this:

Standing there in the middle of the kitchen Effie felt the mentor’s eyes travel up and down her body. He held a bottle of spirits in one hand, elbows on the unbelievably filthy table. And in the other, a knife - an actual KNIFE! “Who sent you?” he finally asked. “It ain’t m’birthday.” The shadow of a crease re-appeared between Effie’s eyebrows but then the smile was right back on. “Mr. Abernathy!” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “Euphemia. Euphemia Trinket, the new escort. My friends call me Effie. You can call me Effie if you want. Delighted to make your acquaintance and might I just add what an honor it is to finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m sure we’re going to make the most fabulous of teams!” Haymitch ignored the outstretched hand. Instead he brought the bottle to his lips, having a few good mouthfuls. “What happened to Dandruff?" he asked in a bored voice. "Ol’ bat finally bit the dust?" “Mrs Dandridge decided to retire. I’m here in her place. Arrived just a few days ago, and my, am I already in LOVE with your … your … quaint district.” “I know right,” he mimicked her voice, dripping with sarcasm. He poured a good amount of the clear liquid into a cracked glass full of sticky fingerprints and extended it to her. “Well, this calls for a toast, don't ya think? Bottom’s up, lil’ lady." “Um, tempting but no thank you,” she said. “I don’t make it a habit of drinking when I'm at work. Especially not this early. Got to keep a level head," she thrilled. "A big big big day today!” Haymitch tsked, eyes on the ceiling. "I'd say." And he downed the drink for her. “Guess this is my lucky day, huh? They finally got rid of ol’ Ice Crotch and now a squeaky lil’ duckling fresh out of the egg’s gonna help me out.” “W-wha … excuse me? Duckling? Squeaky?! I think you’ll find me more than qualified for the job. I graduated from the Academy at the top of my class!” “Yeah, takes a lot o’ brains to send kids off for slaughter.” Effie stared at him. “B-being chosen to participate in The Hunger Games - the biggest event of the year, is a great honor and …” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he snarled. “Save it for the cameras, why don’t ya?” At a loss for words Effie watched the man finish his bottle, down to the last drop, only to reach for the next. “The Reaping is in an hour,” she said. “So?" “So maybe you ought to slow down? And I trust it you’ll freshen up before then? Take a shower and find an outfit that’s a little more, um, suitable for the … special occasion.” “Meh,” Haymitch shrugged. “Haven’t decided if I’m gonna go.” “You have to go!” The words burst from her lips before she could stop them. “You’re expected! I’ll look like a fool!” In reply, Haymitch snapped the seal on the bottle. With one expert twist. “Don’t need me for something you already accomplished, sweetheart.” He tipped the liquor into his mouth. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

[tangledbea]

Did we ever get the lyrics for the original song that was made for Cass's solo before they reworked it to Waiting in the Wings?

Yes! The song was called Lady In Waiting:

I guess I'm a lady in waiting 'Cause waiting is all that I do I'm always the one Whose big day in the sun Just happens to never come through

The girl no one needs to pay heed to Whose name no one bothers to learn Holding my tongue Overlooked and unsung Just patiently waiting my turn

Well, I'm tired of life in the shadows Of hiding my light in a drawer I'm done masquerading-- This lady is waiting for more

Waiting for action! Waiting for glory! Waiting for just one chance to star in my own story Tired of dreaming Ready to wake I wonder, how much longer will it take?

Like so many ladies in waiting My patience has worn a bit thin I've had it to here With my back-seat career It's time for MY life to begin

And to all of the laughers and doubters Who sneer so contemptuously Well, soon they'll all know What I knew long ago: The world has been waiting for me!

Waiting for passion! Waiting for feeling! Waiting for someone who can smash that stained-glass ceiling! I know I'm ready Sure as can be I may have waited before But this lady's waiting no more! The time has come to seize me fate-- I'll show them all, just wait... And see!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

@estrellami-1

Version 2: Bat Baby

Today was the day of Steve’s c-section. Steve woke up early and slipped on his large night shirt before wandering outside. He fixed himself a large glass of iced water and sat outside in one of the lawn chairs. It was colder now, which Steve always used to hate. He always preferred the warmth of summer. Since he was bitten and gotten pregnant, it's been the opposite now, more so since he's been experiencing hot flashes. He now loved the way the cool air felt against his naked legs.

"Today's the day, baby girl," Steve whispered. "Are you ready? Because I don't think that I am. Can't you stay inside me forever? I promise to keep you safe. Of course, I don't really mean that. I know you need to come out. I don't think I'll ever be ready for you to face the world. Me and Daddy will do our best, but you know, we're not perfect. I hope you know how much we love you."

"I love you too, Daddy," a squeaky voice said.

Steve looked over to find Eddie peering out of the sliding glass door with a grin and a blanket over his head. Eddie came all the way, closing the door behind him before patting his way over to Steve. He pushed the other lawn up against Steve’s and plopped down. He had his own cup, but it was just filled with crushed ice. Eddie shook a handful and poured into his mouth, crunching it with his teeth.

"I don't think I'm ready either," Eddie said.

"Scared?"

"Terrified," Eddie said, pausing. "But at least we're scared together."

Steve took his free hand in his, and they watched the sun rise together. Eddie stroked his hand and began to sing. Steve grinned when he started to sing the Beatles' Yellow Submarine. It was one of his favorite Beatles songs. Steve chuckled when he got the idea. He opened his mouth and began to sing Master of Puppets. Eddie giggled with delight.

Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings

We all live in a yellow submarine

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

We all live in a yellow submarine

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

We all live in a yellow submarine

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

We all live in a yellow submarine

Master, master

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

Master, master

"That's a scary mashup," Eddie giggled.

"It shouldn't make sense," Steve said.

"But I love it," Eddie and Steve laughed.

"You're going to be okay, Stevie."

"I know."

When they arrived at the hospital, they were surprised to find that everyone was waiting for them there.

"Like we would miss this," Joyce said.

"As if I would miss my best friend having a baby," Robin said.

Everyone gave him supportive hugs, the moms lasting longer than anyone else. Claudia wouldn't stop crying.

"Come on, Claud," Wayne said in amusement. "Let the boy go."

"I'm going to be a Grammy," Claudia cried.

"Damn, I didn't think to bring any tissues," Sue said, sniffling.

"Oh, I got plenty in my purse," Claudia said.

"I think Max might need some of those," Mike said.

"I will push you in the quarry," Max snapped and walked over to hug Steve. "You're going to be a great dad."

As she walked back over, she flipped Mike off. She sat down in the waiting room and pulled out some knitting supplies.

"Are you knitting?" Mike asked.

"What did I just say?" Max asked.

Erica sat beside her and pulled out her own supplies.

"I'm competing with Max to see who can make the better baby blanket," Erica said.

"Did you know about this?" Mike asked Lucas.

"Yeah."

Eddie and Steve laughed as they were guided off to the operating room by Dr. Owens. Hopper and El followed behind them. El had Jonathan's old camera strapped to her neck. They were joining them in the room just in case anything happened. Although, El had insisted that she hadn't felt anything bad coming from the baby. As they prepared him, Steve laid on the table he stared up at the ceiling.

"I'm going to miss being pregnant," Steve said.

"Is it because it's made your hair look really good?" Eddie asked.

"No. . .well, not just that," Steve said. "I just - what if I turn into my dad?"

"Not possible. I haven't seen you turn into your dad with any of the kids we babysit," Eddie said. "You've been really great with the kids, and you're going to be really great with ours."

"What if she is part bat? What if she starts climbing the walls?!" Steve asked.

"Then we'll get a ladder. That was going to happen anyway. She's part of me too," Eddie said.

"We both work during the day. What if she ends up sleeping during the day and awake at night?" Steve said.

"Then we'll figure that out too," Eddie said. "We'll figure it all out together."

"You have all the answers, don't you?" Steve muttered.

"Only when it comes to you, sweetheart," Eddie replied and paused. "Do I need to get a mom?"

"I'll get Joyce. She's had a c-section," Hopper said and left the room.

Joyce came in a moment later and knelt at Steve's side.

"You a little nervous?" Joyce asked.

"A little," Steve admitted.

"I was just as scared when I was in your situation. I had no clue what was going on. My biggest fear was that they would cut into Jonathan. It's been 18 years now, and medicine has gotten somewhat better. These doctors, they know what they're doing. The doctors I had knew what they're doing, and Jonathan turned out fine," Joyce said. "But if you need me, then I'll be with you and make sure they don't hurt the baby too. That's also what El is here for. We won't let them take her, either. You've got an entire army out there prepared to do the same."

Steve looked at her with watery eyes, knowing how hard she fought for Will, and he knew she would do the same for their baby.

"Thanks," Steve croaked. "You can stay."

Joyce stood on Steve’s other side and took his hand. Eddie smiled at her, his own eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you."

It was weird not being able to feel or see what they're doing, but judging by the looks on El and Hopper's face, they saw the entire thing. Eddie could clearly see what they were doing, and he watched his face turn into a look of awe, then they all heard it. The cry. It sounded weirder than he thought it would. It sounded more like a screech than a cry. Then, the nurse was bringing her over and putting her in Eddie's arms. Eddie was sobbing.

"Oh, fuck, Steve, look at her, she's beautiful," Eddie sobbed.

He held her close to Steve’s face, and Steve started crying with Eddie. She was so perfect. Her skin was slightly gray, but they apparently weren't worried about that. Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. El smiled as she took their picture.

"We're parents, Steve, we're goddamn parents," Eddie said.

A little while later, Steve laid in his hospital bed while their daughter laid against his chest. Eddie sat next to him while everyone filled the room. She wasn't wrapped up in the blanket. She preferred the cold. Steve smiled as he rubbed a hand over her back.

"Oh, look at her little wings," Dustin cooed softly, tears filling his eyes. "Oh, man. I am so not ready for this."

"Is she - is she going to have a tail?" Robin asked.

"Looks like she's going to have three," Eddie grinned.

Just above the diaper was a small cluster of bumps.

"You gonna tell us the little stinker's name?" Wayne asked.

"Alice," Steve said.

"That's my mama's name," Eddie said softly.

"I know," Steve said softly. "I know how much you loved her, and I know how much you want her to be here. In a way, she is. I also love Alice in Wonderland, so there's something in it for me, too."

Eddie cried as he kissed Steve and placed a gentle hand on Alice's back.

"Everyone," Eddie sniffled. "This is Alice Wynonna Munson. It's the closet we could get to the girl version of Wayne."

"Oh, hell," Wayne said and burst into tears.

"I thought you were going to be cool about this, honey," Claudia teased.

"They named the damned baby after me," Wayne said.

Wayne was the first to hold the baby, followed by Robin and Dustin. Steve thought for sure Robin was going to fight Wayne when he was hogging the baby. There wasn't a dry eye in the hospital room as everyone cooed and passed the baby around. Erica was the last one to hold the baby before passing her off to Steve.

"She doesn't like being warm?" Erica asked. "Our baby blankets are just going to be decorative, aren't they?"

"Yeah, sorry," Steve laughed. "Oh, I think she's hungry."

Everyone began clearing the room, offering their congratulations as they left. Steve smiled at his daughter as she suckled at his breast. It felt weird and wonderful at the same time. It was definitely strange to feel his breasts to be so swollen with milk. Eddie smiled softly as he stroked Alice's head.

"We're a family," Eddie said. "Tied together forever through her. There's no going back."

"I never want to go back," Steve said.

Eddie kissed him.

A/N: one more chapter to go!

Part Nine

[endlessmusings1801]

-When Robin learned she was going to have to work the whole summer with Steve "the Hair" Harrington she was less then pleased. I mean the guy was annoying, just plain annoying. But, the more they worked together, she realized he was kind of a loser too. Not in a bad way but he wasn't the cool, preppy king she pegged him to be. His only friends seemed to be a group of middle schoolers. He claimed to be their babysitter but she knew he wasn't getting paid and he'd give no further explanation. He couldn't get a girl to date him to save his life. He was dorky and silly. He put up with her teasing. She unexpectedly liked him.

-Mike's always known Will was gay. He was especially obvious that summer that Starcourt burned down. He just didn't know Will liked him. Mike loved his best friend, just not it that way.

(I'm not a Blyer shipper. If it happens, I'll respect it but I don't like that ending for Mike. I don't want him with Eleven-I want Eleven to find herself-but I don't see him with Will.)

-Hopper's Hawaiian shirt is 100% a Miami Vice reference

-Erica becomes a CEO of a Fortune 500 company by the age of 35. The youngest black woman to do so. She smashes all the glass ceilings.

[scary-lasagna]

Are requests open? May I have anything cute you feel like writing for EJ, please?

im so sorry it got sad really quick

Edwin University

Jack looked down at the little crumpled piece of paper, and compared it to the large, steel letters of the school logo.

" EDWIN UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF MEDICINE "

This is where he came from, where this demon was born. And yet, it didn't seem like anything evil or cultish. Just a normal school for practicing medical personnel.

Students were pacing toward class here and there, either in sweatpants, or business casual clothing. A sense of a bittersweet longing washed over him, knowing that he was once walking across the same lawn not too long ago. Holding the same books. Fretting over the same classes.

Slender had finally caved on the 31st time of Jack asking to visit his roots, to understand just a hair of who he was before he was turned into this kidney eating parasite. Of course, it was under the condition that he not interact with anyone. And now that he's here, standing at the front of campus, he's not sure if he wants to know.

He gulped down whatever was bubbling in his throat, and trailed behind a nearest student, trotting toward the building, no doubt late for whatever class he was hauling books for in a humongous bookbag. The student didn't even notice how close Jack was breathing down his neck, desperate to slip in through the door that only opened with a Student ID.

Those two sets of doors acting as a threshold for so long, Jack was in shock at how different the inside compared to the dull bricks of the outer walls of the school.

The tiles of the hallway were a dull vinyl material, and glistened with the fluorescent lights lining the lobby. Flags of multiple countries, schools, hospitals, and sports teams hung in uniform above Jack's head, seemingly floating along the endless ceiling.

It smelled familiar too, the stale smell of carpet, cheap disinfectant, and bricks that held a little too much moisture to be sanitary. Now, Edwin University held a high stature of respect in the state, being the best medical school for miles around. The building could use some touch-ups, though.

While admiring the interior, Jack paced a few steps forward, squinting through his mask at the office, and multiple hallways that branched out toward an infinite amount of class rooms and buildings.

As Jack glanced around, shrouded by his hoodie, a glass case caught his eye, reflecting the lights in such grace that he couldn't see beyond the glare. The demon approached the trophy case tucked into the wall by the main office, taking notes of glitter strewn about the garland of the school's colors.

And his stomach dropped, landing on what looked to be a red-haired high-school graduate centered amongst a collage of the same person.

"Jackson Creed, the most brave Owl of our school."

He glared over his shoulder, in case any passerby's became too nosey of his presence, and quickly turned back toward his photos. How he desperately wanted to rip the glass off of it's hinges, smash through it and clutch the remains of his past life desperately in his claws.

Jack only stood shaking, and gulped. There was a newspaper clipping framed next to it, with multiple paragraphs framing a picture of a curly brunette girl in a cheer uniform. Without even reading a word of the paper, he could feel the unbridled rage the look in her eyes invoked in his blackened blood.

"Jessica Writhe, forever loved and missed."

"Forever missed...Certainly." He grumbled. Jack could only hiss in a sniff as he shook his head, tilting his gaze into the speckled tile. The physical pain clutching his heart with knives and broken glass. He was robbed. He was robbed of a college degree, a doctorate, a friend group of normal people, a life, a family a-

"Did you know them?" A voice chimed. Jack's head snapped toward his left, being too self-absorbed to notice anyone approaching him. The demon quickly fixed his hoodie as he looked back toward the glass, tugging it snugly over his mask.

It was a dark-skinned man, no older than 25, that was suddenly standing next to him. He shuffled a little stiffly toward the case, and placed a granola bar on the sill of the window. His freckles hopped around his cheeks as he smiled at the hooded figure. "My name is James, I was a friend of Jack's."

Jack's tension left his shoulders for a moment, slacking downward with numbness. A piece of his old life was standing right beside him and he wasn't allowed to say a single word, too risky. And Jack had been too loyal to disrespect the terms that Slender gave.

"He was a really nice guy, a little weird, but that's what made him so lovable to everyone. Always making jokes and taking a jab at someone." James chuckled and shook his head. "He always ate a granola on the way to class, so on Mondays I drop one off for him." James simmered down, went quiet for a moment, as if hoping Jack would jump out of his hoodie with a 'Hey! It's me! It's been a while, right?'

But nothing.

"They're still looking for him." James added, and Jack merely tilted his head to peek a gaze at James. He provided a simple nod, to indicate that he was listening. "I hope he comes back some day. I'd love to share one more coffee with him."

Jack turns on his heel abruptly, the tar started to overflow the pockets inside his mask, so it was a much needed signal to leave.

"Uh, hey! Do you want this hoodie? One mutual, to another?" It was a last ditch effort to connect with the stranger. Anything that could give him a glimpse of his old friend. A new shared memory, hell maybe this guy even had a piece of his clothes that he could bribe for.

So much grief and guilt had plagued James ever since the murder and disappearance of Jessica's clique. If he could just...find something to cling on to...

Jack paused in his strideA, practically being weight down by the guilt of just walking off, let alone the sickening feeling this human was radiating. What is it? Sadness? Grief? Something that his senses were picking up on, but couldn't quite name.

"Here, take it." James held out the hoodie, it was heavy.

Jack slowly turned. How could he take it? These claws, the shadow colored skin...His own demonic flesh leaked out from his tattered clothing.

But alas, after a long beat, Jack hesitantly reached out, his long claws scraping against the woven cotton before his finger pads even touched the garment. James sucked in a gasp through his teeth, staring at Jack's hood in angry confusion.

What kind of sick joke?-

But the scar on Jack's hand, the 'X'. It traced from pointer to wrist, and the other line from his pinky to the other side of his wrist. Jack had always had it since he awoken. But James...James seems to remember it as well.

James' fingers released the hoodie as Jack tugged it away, giving a sheepish wave before quickly leaving. Black dots of tar traced his footsteps as he hurried out of the building.

James was the only one to notice. He was the only one to notice the ghost of Jackson Creed.

___

Jack was quiet for the rest of the week, and Nina was the only one who seemed to care enough to pry. She even went as far as climbing into his window when he locked his door on her.

"C'mon Jack! You can't stay cooped up in your room outside of working hours. It's not healthy, even for someone like you!"

"Nina, please leave." He didn't spare her a moment of time before he was already unlocking his door to shoo her away. And while his back was turned, Nina caught a glimpse of the hoodie slacked over the footboard of his bed.

"Edwin Uni? Is that a victims school or...?" Nina looked back toward Jack. Even with a faceless mask, Nina could see the tension gathered in his shoulders. "Oh my Gods! Did you really go to the human realm to visit your old life? Isn't that like, forbidden?!" She exclaimed, and Jack quickly slammed the door before whoever was undoubtedly listen outside decided to spread the news Nina was blabbing.

"Yes... I did visit, but-"

"Well, what was it like? Is this what's got you in the dumps?" She asked, and helped herself to sitting on his bed, pulling the hoodie off of the frame and holding it up to admire the grey vintage style of it.

"It was..." Jack thought for a moment, not knowing how to place a single word on the experience. "It was alright."

"Just alright, huh? She teased, standing up as Jack approached her, and without giving Jack a second to react, she popped it on over head, and yanked it down past his chest. "I think the hoodie fits at least. But I hope you didn't buy it, college's are a scam when it comes to merch, and on top of that it looks used!"

It did look used. It was frayed in the back and had a few holes sporting it. Jack wiggled, and wanted to amuse Nina with the idea he was already stuck in, and popped his arms through the sleeves, fixing the hem to just below his belt loop.

"It fits nice." He shrugged, pulling the hood out of his back and flipping it over his head.

"Hey, you'd pass for a pretty cute college dude, huh?" She teased with a laugh.

Jack only shook his head with a scoff, "I did. But those days are long past me." He grabbed the hem, and pulled it off before Nina could grab any more friendly teases from thin air. He held it by his hips, struggling to free his arms from the hoodie with the friction of his long sleeved shit.

"Hey! Look at the tag, Jack." She shuffled forward, and lifted the hoodie to get a better look at the tag, "Someone's written on it."

The marker on the tag could only show at least a years worth of washing machine visits. It was bleeding and barely legible. But Jack could read it, it was his handwriting after all.

"Can't read it." He fibbed, and tossed it back on the bed. He headed back toward the door with a sigh, flexing his fingers.

"Maybe I'll get you a new Edwin hoodie for Christmas." Nina smiled, following him to be politely shoved out of his room.

"No...I like that one better."

[growthgoddess]

Grogged Up Anne

Anne had just broken up with her cheating boyfriend and needed to blow off some steam. Her friends convinced her to go out for a night on the town and try to forget her troubles. They headed to a popular bar in the city and started drinking.

As the night wore on, Anne's friends procured a strange drug from a vendor in the bar and wanted to cheer her up by slipping it into her drink while she was too drunk to notice.

Anne chugged her entire drink shortly after but didn't feel any different. As the night went on, however, she started to feel strange sensations throughout her body.

Anne would get visions of her chest plumping up, or sometimes see someone she met now shorter than her. It took her friends a while to notice that she had begun to grow bigger as well.

It appears that the drug had a reaction to the alcohol. For shortly after, Anne was growing at a rapid pace.

Anne first thought that her shortness of breath was from her having too much to drink that night, oblivious to the fact that her clothes were already constricting her burgeoning body.

Anne felt a bit outbalanced when her heels broke from under her weight and she had to hold onto the bar to stay standing up.

Her friends panicked and rushed to her side. They wanted to escort her put before any more weird events occur. But she just shoved them to leave her to drink in peace. Her strength was enough to send three adult women flying across the room.

She grabbed a bottle from the table and began chugging it like a shot glass. The bartender backed away from Anne for he noticed her swelling up with every chug.

She outgrew her clothes in seconds, exposing her tanned skin and majestic body for everyone in the bar to see. There was a mix of fear and awe from the patrons. But she did not stop there. Her head slammed to the ceiling and begun cracking the concrete, sending dust and plaster to rain down.

Everyone, including her friends, started panicking and escaped the bar before they got crushed by the growing woman.

When Anne hit her head, she begun seeing things, the place became woozy and various colors were appearing in her eyes.

Anne got dizzy and needed some air. She saw her friends rushing to the exit and wanted to join them, only that she smacked her head on the wall above the door frame on her way out, smashing it as she passed through.

Her friends were shocked and scared, not knowing what to do. Anne continued growing bigger and bigger. She was even dancing around to some unheard music in her head like she was having the time of her life. Albeit, she bumped into some streetlight posts, bending them with her weight, and almost trampled some people in her way.

A while later, Anne was now a 100-foot tall giantess, and she was completely out of control.

Her friends started panicking and called the cops for assistance as their giant friend was now causing havoc on the city.

Anne stumbled through the streets, accidentally slamming into buildings and knocking over cars. In the meantime, her friends tried to stop her, but they were no match for her size and strength.

As Anne made her way through the city, she couldn't help but feel that she was in a really good dream where she was in control, where she had power and freedom.

She was no longer the small, helpless girl to be exploited by a cheating boyfriend. She was now a force to be reckoned with.

Anne tried to take a break by sitting on a building rooftop, but to her dismay, it was not able to support her magnified mass. The entire concrete structure broke after a few seconds of carrying her and collapsed beneath her.

Eventually, Anne stood back up and continued her rampage. To her friend's horror, they saw her make her way to her ex-boyfriend's apartment!

Evan woke up after feeling the earth quake and hearing non stop car sirens blaring in the neighborhood while he was sleeping with his new girlfriend. He got up and tried to look outside his window to see what the commotion was about.

He grew pale when he saw Anne's face, as bug as a billboard, gazing right at him through his 10th-floor window.

But that wasn't Anne's full height, she was only bent forward to count the floors of the building. After identifying which window was Evan's apartment, she stood back up, revealing her majestic body at Evan.

Still drunk and out of control, Anne smashed through the window and grabbed him with her massive hand. His new girlfriend screamed out loud and ran out of the room.

Her ex-boyfriend was terrified, but Anne couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. There he was in the palm of her hand, the man who always made her feel small, the man who always had to be right. Now, he was the one at her mercy.

She had finally shown him just how powerful she could be. As she stumbled back through the city, she couldn't help but laugh at the chaos she was causing.

In the end, the police came in force to stop Anne's rampage. Her friends were sitting at the rear seat of the leading cop car.

The trucks behind them screeched to a halt and deployed a small army of SWAT troopers armed with heavy ballistics.

Anne could not identify what was before her, with her vision seeing triple, and simply waved at them. She forgot that the hand she used to wave with was the one holding Evan and she dropped him on her chest.

He bounced off, and was unable to hold on for his life and fell to the ground.

Her friends gasped at the sight of Evan's fall. The sheriff ordered everyone to open fire at the crazed giantess. She wasnt exactly a hard target to hit given her size and clumsiness, but she proved that she was resilient enough to withstand their gunfire. Only getting irritated by the shots and moving to the opposite direction.

They were unable to subdue her, but they were able to steer her away from the city with their firepower.

As soon as she was outside the city perimeter, Anne continued moving east until she eventually disappeared in the horizon. The sheriff phoned the government about this, but the ultimate fate of Anne the Drunk Goddess remains unknown.

But one thing was certain wherever Anne was, she'd be large and in charge. And nobody will ever make her feel insignificant again.

The sun rose in the east that day, as did every day.

[lunahp1233]

what’s the worst that could happen to a girl, who’s already hurt?

Matthew Sturniolo x reader (y/n)

Warnings: use of y/n, kissing, descriptive make out scene, smoking, pet name (pretty girl)

Description: you and Matt attend the same university. One night you catch him in the library smoking alone, what will happen when he sees you?

The cold night air through the open windows in the hallway hit your skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms. You couldn’t sleep so you decided to explore the university. It’s beautiful at night.

You push open the door of the library gently. There are books everywhere. You twirl around trying to soak in as much as possible from the breathtaking view. The ceiling of the library is made out of glass so the moon is visible. It’s a full moon tonight.

*click* the sound of a lighter could be heard from the other side of the hall. You turn around only to be met with a pair of blue eyes already looking at you. Matt. He leans against one of the bookshelves with a lighter in his hand and a cigarette between his lips. He tilts his head, signaling you to come over, so you do. Not even a minute later you find yourself standing in front of him.

He looks down at you. You haven’t talked to him much, only a few times but- he always had something about him, something that made everyone want to be close to him. You feel that now. It’s like a magnet. „You know that’s not healthy“ you say pointing at the cigarette. He nods. „Then why are you doing it?“ he shrugs „it’s like a coping mechanism for me“ he say his voice low and quiet. You nod.

Wordlessly he grabs your jaw with one hand tilting your head up slightly. You feel your breath catching in your throat. „You wanna try?“ he breathes. You nod. He puts the cigarette between your lips carefully his eyes never leaving yours. You inhale the smoke before blowing it out again. You have smoked before but you’re not a regular smoker at all. He takes the cigarette back into his mouth taking a long drag, before he puts it out on the library floor.

You realize suddenly that his hand never left your jaw. You look up at him „you know you shouldn’t walk alone at night, pretty girl“ he whispers. Pretty girl? „Why?“ „Aren’t you scared? You’re so alone. Girls shouldn’t walk alone at night“ he says a soft smile tugging on his lips „I can defend myself“ you say a bit angry „really?“ he teases „because you don’t even try to push me away“ „you’re not dangerous.“ „I like that you’re not afraid“ he breathes his breath tickling your neck. „Should I be?“ you ask your breath catching in your throat once again.

He just shrugs and without warning he grabs your jaw tighter and tilts your head up smashing his lips against yours. His hand wraps around your back pulling you closer. A soft whine escapes you as he presses you against his body. Your hands move up holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Your lips move against each others desperately as you feel his hands roaming your body. He pushes you back gently until your back hits the bookshelf behind you. The books stored there press into your back as you lean back cupping his face. His arms envelope you completely. And you know you shouldn’t, but you feel weirdly comforted.

You slowly relax in his arms. His lips start to move more passionately and his teeth pull back your bottom lip. You open your eyes and meet his. It feels like his blue eyes pierce your soul and you have to fight the urge to let out a needy moan. Your bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and his eyes are filled with lust. He lets your lip snap back into place but doesn’t waste anytime, immediately kissing you again. You can barely catch your breath as his tongue slips into your mouth. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you impossibly closer. Your tongues fight for dominance but he wins quickly. He takes control of the kiss. His hands touch every inch of skin on your body they can reach and his tongue explores your mouth desperately. Your hands are tangled in his brown locks and you pull his hair lightly enticing a groan from deep within him.

He pulls back. „You should go to sleep, you look tired pretty girl“ he whispers his breath hitting your neck. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You want to protest but he already disappeared into the shadows of the library. You look down at your feet. You kinda shouldn’t have done this. Yes, everyone admired him, he’s beautiful after all, but he’s roumored to be more dangerous than expected on the first glance.

But what would you care? Even if he’s a serial killer, what’s the worst that could happen to a girl who’s already hurt? A girl like you.

ps: that was my first fanfic ever🤭 I loved writing it and I have so many ideas for more already🥹

[paperbackribs]

writing a spooky one off where Andy, Jason Carver's friend, who chased down Erica Sinclair in Stranger Things gets his comeuppance over Halloween. witchy things are afoot (aka from the steve is a witch universe lol) here's an excerpt -

"Andy ignores the flickering of the fluorescents above him at The Soda Fountain; the fragmented light is barely noticeable in the busy post-school rush.

The lit-up jukebox behind him faintly plays the eerie pulsating synth of Rockwell; the lead calls out that it’s close to midnight, evil is lurking, and somebody is watching him from across the darkness. Andy rolls his eyes again, but this time at whoever’s getting into the Halloween mood with their music choices.

His chips are halfway up to his open mouth when Andy realises that Lynda’s frozen expression is literal. She’s not moved, her soft, shining lips parted, light brown eyes averted and elbows locked.

Andy flicks his gaze beyond her and sees that Ron is frozen too, as if by an invisible hand, as is Jesse and Grady in the booth behind them. The sea of green and white outfits of the basketball team eerily stopped in place.

Ron’s long column of his neck is bare and defenceless as his head stays tilted up towards the high ceilings. Jesse’s jacket gapes open with his hand reaching behind as if to scratch his back. None of the boys, or the girls at the end table, move. All motion is arrested. Silent and uncanny like a film paused mid-action.

His heart beating irregularly in his chest, Andy dares to turn his gaze to the rest of the parlour. The open space is unnaturally soundless, the servers in their white and blue dresses paused in the act of serving drinks or bussing tables, their arms outstretched leaving the naked skin of their arms and legs exposed.

Andy is the only one aware of this strange and impossible moment. As he looks further, he notes a crimson tinge that inexplicably seeps further into his world.

The checkered walls subtly bend and warp, red bleeding below his sneakers to coat the white plastic in a nasty, faded pink. The corners of the room become formless and dark, twisting among the frozen figures of his peers to sinisterly embrace them.

Andy is helpless, able to move himself but terrified to in case the horror of the room turns its focuses on him. The hunted feeling intensifies as though he has become vulnerable like fleeing prey.

The jukebox's synth bassline is completely forgotten as the whispers start, forming into the sweet sound of a young girl’s softly lilting voice as she sings:

In the darkest corners, he'll win the race,

Through the moonlight's glow and the shadows' embrace.

He hunts you down, you can’t find a safe place,

Run away, run away—

The enchantment of the child’s voice is abruptly broken off as Andy is jostled by none other than Munson the Freak as he walks past Andy, accidentally bumping into him. The howling of a wolf breaks the silence and Andy startles until he realises that it’s the beginning of Thriller over the jukebox.

“Sorry,” Munson sneers over his retracting elbow, walking past with a greasy paper bag and absent of respect for his betters, but the rest of the room is suddenly and blessedly full of loud movement and sound. A glass nosily smashes to the floor and a boy hoots across the space at his friends; the extraordinary hush is broken."