#to go into their ask box one last time only to get too embaressed and delete the ask

[fanficmustread]

God i miss this one ask shrignold account that built my version of the pesky boy and like goong on wattpad (im desperate rn) is reminding me of them bc they made peskyclock and i cant live up to their art

[foodieforthoughts]

Hello love! I have this scenario stuck in my head:

Walter hurts his right shoulder quite badly when solving a case (or slipping on ice 🤔)which leaves him imobile to his dominant arm. Being the stubborn man he is, he releases himself from the hospital and back at home has to release that he alone struggles with the simplest tasks. Due to the time of night or a snowstorm outside the only one left to ask for help is that new annoying neighbour (there's the trope I guess)... might lead to a number of embaressing (and hot?) situations...

Wherever that came from... never mind my weird brain 🙈... does that maybe, possibly strike your muse?

Omg. 🤭 Thank you for the request @omgkatinka I tried to make it fluffy and funny, but I'm in a Walter mood lately and it did end up with a hint of smut, so here it goes.

Warnings: slight description of shoulder injury, a little bit of angst, fluff, description of male masturbation

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: Helping hand

Walter groaned when he turned on his side, half asleep and in a lot of pain. His shoulder throbbed like a thousand needles pricked him at the same time, shooting a blinding pain up to his fingers.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, rolling onto his back and trying to breathe through his agony. He clutched his sore shoulder with his hand, gently soothing the bandages and blinking through the tears that had sprung at the corners of his eyes.

Walter had hurt his shoulder while on a mission to catch hold of a guy involved in human trafficking. They had chased the culprit through the abandoned factory, barely losing him through the maze of metal staircases when Walter had lunged at the man, tackling him to the floor. But the rusty old work bridge had crumbled under the force, bringing both men crashing down to the ground with metal pieces and debris. Luckily for them they weren't harmed in a life threatening manner, but Walter's shoulder had dislocated, resulting in a torn labrum requiring surgery.

"Fuck this shit." Walter had told himself while lying in his hospital bed on the third day post surgery, pressing the call button for the nurse. He had gruffly told the pale, scared woman that he wanted to go home and he was feeling fine. After arguing with the doctor about his health, Walter had self discharged himself against medical advice.

He thought he had made a wise choice coming home, but he knew he was stupid to think he could make it on his own.

Sitting up on the bed and grabbing the strap of the arm sling, Walter groaned. With his dominant hand rendered useless for the time being, Walter had a lot of trouble with his daily activities. Faye and Angie were in California visiting her parents, leaving him no one to call for help for the past weeks.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water when he saw the heavy blanket of snow outside. Checking his watch, he gathered it was only four pm and yet it was almost dark with snow still falling steadily. Walter had taken his pain meds and a sleeping pill when he had awoken in the middle of the night, and had effectively knocked himself out for a good twelve hour sleep. With that realization, his stomach growled indicating his missed meals for the day.

Looking around at the kitchen, Walter groaned when he saw the empty takeout boxes and the overflowing trash can. Injury had left him disorganised, making him live like a junkie. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a decent shower, sniffing the air as he could smell his own body odour. He was about to grab a trash bag from the counter and try to clean, when his doorbell rang.

Walter groaned, again. He had an inkling it was her. His chirpy neighbor who was the only one who showed up to help him every other day. She was annoying in the beginning, trying to start up conversations when all he wanted to do was sulk. But he had warmed up to her, still keeping her at an arm's length, but allowing her to assist him from time to time. When he opened the front door, there she was, looking adorable covered in cozy woollen attire from head to toe, a cute beanie over her hair, carrying a big lunch box in her gloved hands. She smiled at him, shivering with the cold winds until he moved to the side to let her in.

You could never believe how intimidating Walter had seemed to you only a couple of weeks ago. He would always throw a curt nod at you when you would greet him from your door if you ever happened to cross paths, never smiling or staying for a chat. You had gathered from the other neighbors that he was a cop, Detective Walter Marshall, kind of a loner and always grumpy. There was no denying your attraction to him, his scruffy beard and thick curls always left your fingers itching to touch them, with his accent being a major plus point. But he would never give you a chance to strike up a decent conversation.

It was all fun and games, you liked the chase, even if you were the one doing all the chasing. Seemed like a conquest for you but when his car was missing from his parking spot for days on end, you began worrying about him. Then one fine day, you spotted him out in the curb, trying to open the trash bin with one hand while the other was hanging in a sling. You had walked up to him, out of concern when Walter had turned around to go back inside slipping on the ice, only for you to grab a hold of him trying to break his fall but instead tumbling to the cold ground with him on top of you. He had apologized profusely, wincing in pain as he moved and letting you help him stand up.

From that day onwards, you always made it a point to stop by his house atleast once. It helped that Walter never complained.

"I had made lasagna. Did you have lunch?" You asked, taking off your beanie to hang on the hook and leaving your boots by the door. You felt Walter's looming figure follow you as you made your way to the kitchen. Taking in the surrounding, you nodded to yourself, your question answered without Walter having to utter a word. "Very well, why don't you sit at the table and I'll serve you the food?"

You tried to grab clean plates and spoons, frowning at the dirty dishes from last night, but you didn't blame him. It was only so much he could do with one hand.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" You asked, trying to strike up a conversation with the Detective.

"No. I took sleeping pills."

Placing the plate of food in front of him, you narrowed your eyes at him. "Don't get too attached to those meds though." You handed him the spoon and fork, before getting to clean his kitchen.

"You don't have to do that." Walter protested from his place at the table, almost about to stand up. "I was about to clean around the house."

"With one hand? Come on, Detective Walter, you know better than that. And I don't mind, I was holed up at my house since morning anyway, this atleast gives me a chance to do something." You winked at him, grabbing the empty bottles of water and shoving them in the trash bag. By the time Walter had finished his meal, you had cleaned the kitchen with only the dishes to spare.

"Let me get those." Walter tried to reach for the soap but you were fast enough to grab it first.

"Go rest, I can handle this." You nudged him playfully with your hip. You could not believe your eyes when you saw Walter smile. "Wow! Look at that! I am being graced with a smile."

Rolling his eyes at you, Walter stayed put at his place, handing you the plates one by one. You insisted for him to rest, but he denied each of your requests. You were just about done loading up the dishes in the dishwasher when your phone rang from it's place in the purse that was hanging on the hook.

"I'll put them in the rack, go." Walter assured you with another smile. You nodded at him, handing the gloves and walking out the kitchen. You were texting back your mom, when you heard the Detective cuss loudly, followed by falling and breaking of plates. You hurried inside to find Walter drenched with soapy water and the broken pieces of ceramic and glass on the floor.

"I'm done with this!" He shouted, trying to pry open the velcro of his sling in anger. The edge of his shirt dripped water on the floor with a stream travelling down from the front of his pants.

"Hey, hey." You rushed to him, carefully maneuvering away from the plates, and caught hold of his hands. "It's okay. It happens. Why don't you go change and I'll clean here." You didn't back down when he stared at you, not moving and not giving up. But a silent moment passed and he left for his bedroom without a word.

You walked towards Walter’s bedroom, the silence of the house only disturbed by the whistling winds of the oncoming storm outside. It was late in the night when you had gotten the chance to pay the ailing Detective a visit. With freshly baked cookies in a box, you had knocked at his door only to be left standing out in the cold. He had handed you a spare key for emergencies as the storm warning approached which you never used until today.

When you reached the door to his bedroom, you stopped in your tracks hearing muffled grunts from the other side. The door was slightly cracked open, faint light seeping out to the the hallway. You peered through the gap only to gape at the sight.

The other day when Walter had spilled water over his front and gone to change, you had followed him after hearing him cursing at himself. He had a hard time taking off the wet clothes, making him angrier by the minute. You had helped him then, only to be left mesmerized by his body as your nimble fingers had brushed over his skin.

Walter had his eyes closed, his arm in the sling and resting on his naked chest and pillows with a sheet covering his lower half. His other hand was under the cover, moving up and down as he pleasured himself. You felt your cheeks warm, spreading down to your chest and the tip of your ears as you watched him in his private moment, wanting to turn and run away but failing to do so.

You weren't going to ask him, but you could swear a long moment of sparks had passed between the two of you. Your dreams now featured vivid fantasies with Walter, leaving you in a daze for the rest of the day.

As much as you wanted to stare at his heaving chest, listen to his melodious moans and trace his sweat sheened face with your gaze; this felt like a rude invasion of privacy. You were about to turn on your heels when you heard the whisper of your name rolling out of his lips. Whipping your head to see if you had been caught red handed, you were left baffled to find Walter's eyes closed, unaware of your presence and repeating your name like a mantra while he pumped his length.

You had no idea what got into you, but the urge to be with the man you had been lusting over was so strong, you pushed the door open with heated cheeks and a trembling core. Walter's eyes shot open, widening as he took in your presence, scrambling to hide himself underneath the sheets.

"Wh-what are you-?" He stammered, a rosy pink tint appearing on his flushed skin.

You did not answer him, choosing to close the distance between the two of you instead. You crouched down next to his side of the bed, placing your hand on his scruffy cheek. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted as he struggled to regain his breath and rendered speechless at the debacle. You waited for him to object to your advances, watching as he wet his lips with his tongue before leaning to kiss him. Walter remained frozen for a long second, until he moved his lips along with yours.

Breaking away from the kiss, you smiled at him, a hand creeping to his member that twitched in response. "Do you need a hand?" You asked, smirking as Walter could only nod before you pulled the sheet away from his body.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 6th, Friday 00:54

„Well that was embaressing.“ Lucas mumbled into Jen’s neck flustered, finally having calmed down and stopped crying. The both couldn’t help but to giggle. Lucas sat up a little, as he got out of the hug, but grabbing Jens’s hands instead, while he looked at him through reddened puffy eyes. Still as pretty as always. Jens thought.

They had moved further onto the bed away from the edge, as Jens had nudged them towards the middle, in case they would sort of fall asleep like this. It left them sitting on his bed, only the lamp on the desk providing a warm glow, illuminating Lucas’s face in the most beautiful orange shades.

„How are you feeling?“ Jens asked, his thumb drawing small circles over the other boys wrist.

„So much, much better. I can’t believe I cried already two times infront of you this week.“ Lucas smiled lightly, never breaking their eye contact, as they studied each other. A comfortable tranquility fell over them. If only tomorrow would never come. 

Jens lifted his right hand, his fingers brushing strands of curls out of the boy’s face, tracing the outline down passed his ear and along his jaw, his eyes transfixed on his exploration, while Lucas stared at Jens in utter devotion.

This was all the same and yet so drifferent as he could feel the structure of bones in sharper angles and the skin being rougher under his fingers. His fingers stopped right as he reached the chin. His eyes searching for Lucas’s, who focused right back on Jens.

They stared at each other, the air heavy around them, as Jens couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing towards Lucas’s lips as he cupped the boy’s face and leaned in slightly, watching Lucas’s eyes widen by the realisation of Jen’s intention. They were so close, he could feel Lucas’s breath on his lips, when Jens hold himself back for a second, as he was aware that he felt scared. Scared of accidently using his vulnerability, as Lucas had just poured his heart out to Jens. A frail whisper escaped him.

„Can I kiss you?“ 

He felt 13 all over again, though back then Jens hadn’t asked the cute girl from french class whom he had shared his first kiss with. In fact he couldn’t really recall ever having asked specifically to kiss someone. But Jens was so fucking nervous and he didn’t wanted to ruin it by...by what really? Moving too fast?

Lucas swallowed heavy, with a nod faintly aware of the tension between them growing.

So when Jens closed the remaining distance between them, watching the boy’s eyes falling shut, feeling the soft lips of Lucas against his own, it send a shiver down his spine, and with it a desire to be closer. Apparently Lucas thought similarly as the boy’s hands found their way yet again taking hold of his shirt, pulling Jens towards him.

While his one hand remained grazing Lucas’s cheek, his other wandered down over the boys back, down til he reached the rim of his shirt, his fingers eager to get under the fabric to feel skin. It drew a moan from Lucas that made Jens deepen the kiss, his hand pushing under the shirt, quick to explore the bare back underneath in broad strokes, while dragging Lucas practically onto his lap. His tounge licked over the other boys lips, asking for more, and Lucas did follow suit. Jens could do this for hours. Just this. It was all he needed to be alive right now.

They broke the kiss, when Lucas gasped for air, earning him an amused smirk from Jens.

„We have to work on that, I guess. Takes an awfully long time of practise though.“ Jens teased, so he probably deserved the smack against his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure if he had expected a kiss with a boy to feel different from a girl, his mind had somehow assumed it to be. But he was proven wrong, at least in his opinion. To kiss Lucas felt outright amazing. It didn’t eliminate though his anxiety to go further than this. He was certain that that definitely would be something else. 

Besides Lucas seemed to tense up himself, now that they weren’t kissing any longer. So maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to postpone continuing this another night.

Jens leaned in one more time to peck a kiss on Lucas’s lips, he really couldn’t help himself, before nodding towards his backpack.

„You said something about having brought your own sleeping clothes this time?“ Lucas replied to his question with a silent smile, shaking his head. Perhaps Jens had remembered it incorrectly. „No?"

„Depends.“ Lucas now began to grin mischievously. „Do I get one of your shirts to sleep in? I always wanted to do that.“

Jens snorted, pushing Lucas playfully away, as he feighned an annoyed sigh and got up from his bed to walk over to his closet. How could he ever say no to this boy?

While he was at it, he also turned off the desk lamp and retrieved his phone from beneath some papers for school he had worked on until Lucas’s messages appeared on his insta.

Lucas meanwhile had gotten out of his clothes, and was just slipping into his dark blue sweats he had brought, when Jens cursed having now only the dim streetlamp, outside behind drawn curtains, throwing just enough light in to make out the hazy contour of Lucas’s bare chest.

„Hope this will do.“ Jens said, handing the shirt over to the boy eager to put it on. He was adorable, Jens found himself thinking, as he got into bed under the blanket. Last time they had two, his and one from his mothers room. He hadn’t considered it. Almost an apology on his lips, he was reminded that they had kissed not five minutes ago and that it probably was alright to assume they could share one blanket.

Thank god he hadn’t said anything.

Lucas slipped right next to him, unlocking his phone.

„I should probably set an alarm, so I won’t be late. I need to stop by my house to grab my stuff.“ 

„Don’t worry, my alarm is set to 6:30, should be early enough, right? You can secretly escape, when I’m waking Lotte for school.“ Jens explained, not thinking much of it. Lucas put his phone down, left it next to his pillow on the edge of the bed.

„Do you always wake your sister?“ Lucas asked into the dark. 

„Eh yes. Wake her up, get breakfast and her lunch box ready, get her ready and then drop her off at school. It is much easier when I’m actually going to school as well, as it is kinda on the way. Having online classes from home. I swear, I really have to fight my laziness to not just send her off and stay in bed instead.“

Lucas seemed to have recieved the answer he wanted, as he didn’t say anything else, instead he turned on his side towards Jens, shuffeling closer, kissing the shoulder of Jens that stuck out from under the blanket.

He turned as well, facing the boy in his bed. He kicked something off the bed with his foot.

„Shit I think that was the cake.“ 

The both of them laughing, Lucas almost pushed himself up to move towards the end of the bed, when Jens pulled him back down.

„Leave it, I���ll take care of it in the morning.“ He said and drew the blanket back over them again.

„Good night, Lu.“ Jens yawned. With them in bed in the dark, the weariness really weighted down on him.

„Good night.“ He heard Lucas whisper before being kissed again, feeling the boy pressing his body closer against Jens, as they settled into a comfortable position to sleep. Their legs tangled under the blanket, their foreheads leaning against each other.

[realactualfancontent]

Wilbur Whateley Goes Shopping Part 2.

While he’s still in London Wilbur goes Solstice shopping.

Wilbur Whateley did not belong here. Slinking through an overcrowded department store where even his unusual stature and the stench that clung to him weren't enough to keep him safe from being jostled by over zealous holiday shoppers. He jumped every time, fussing to see that none of his wardrobe had been disrupted. Looking around over the crowds heads to see if there was any quiet spot he could try to observe from. Figure out where he was going. What exactly he was here for. It was as if the whole city had been funnelled in here. How was no one else overwhelmed? How was no one else overwhelmed by the sheer quantity. Someone jostled him especially hard and Wilbur hurled a few choice words in their direction loud enough that the immediate crowd paused a moment to stare before getting back on with their errands. The offending party scurried away without so much as an apology. Though the look of terror on their face served as one. Even if he felt a little embarrassed now. He just, didn't do well around people. Not that it mattered, they'd all be gone soon. He could only hope that there were less old ones, or that they had a better grasp on personal space. But he was determined to make this trip worth something. After that disaster at the book store he wanted to come back with something. And Dunwich's single general store was beyond limited when it came to luxury goods. So here he was, scraggly, unkempt and absolutely freezing in place when anyone so much as brushed against him. Eventually, after what seemed like eons he made it to a counter and stared down a perfectly quaffed and dressed shop attendant. Who looked up at him with wide frightened eyes. “Can I help you?” She asked timidly. He gulped, fighting down a sudden wave of embaressment at the garbled excuse for English that was about to come out of his mouth.

“Yeah-yes.”

She looked like she'd rather do anything but, she looked like she wanted to call security. Wilbur soldiered on trying to downplay his accent. “I'm shoppin' fer my ma.”

That made her relax a little. As if anyone buying Christmas gifts for their mother couldn't be entirely terrible. She was wrong of course.

“An' my younger brother.” He added hastily, seeing as laying on the sentiments seemed like a good plan.

Humans and their sentiment.

Not that he was much better. He just acknowledged it was stupid.

“Oh, well then, what sort of gifts are you looking for?” She asked brightly, giving him an appraising once over, now that the initial fear seemed to have worn off he could tell she was trying to size up how much he could spend.

“'Spensive ones.” Wilbur answered, there was something distinctly unpleasant in the smile that accompanied that. 

He couldn't help it. There was something distinctly unpleasant in most of his expressions. But he did love the rare chance to wave his money in people's faces. The look of scepticism and shock on her face was priceless. The absolute disbelief when he pulled out a wallet from the tenebrous pockets of his shapeless coat and discreetly opened it to flash the woman it's contents was almost worth the trip. “I see,” she said looking between the over stuffed wallet and Wilbur's ungroomed face, managing to set aside any misgivings he gave her and settle back into her blandly polite default mode. “I'm afraid you'll have to be slightly more specific, as we do carry a wide range of luxury items, any of which would make lovely gifts.” Wilbur rolled his eyes in response, and let out a deep sigh, so irritable you'd think someone had asked him to set his foot on fire. “Dunno, what dew women like?” It was a genuine question. What the fuck did he get for Lavinia? Clothes? Jewellery? Not shoes that was for damn sure. “Oh, well, if you'd like I can show you around the accessories section and point out some of our more popular items?” “Yeah, that'd be good.” “Alright, follow me then.” She slipped out from behind the counter and led Wilbur around the shop. He was grateful for the assistance, even if he didn't fancy following someone around like a lost dog it was better than milling around poking things aimlessly. He ended up with an armful of things. Perfume (which didn't smell all that good to him, but he was assured it was lovely, and much subtler once it settled on to the skin.), A hat with a bunch of flowers (Lavinia liked flowers, he wasn't to sure about hats.) And an armful of assorted fripperies and frills all floaty and lacy. Grossly impractical, he hadn't the faintest idea when she'd every get the chance to wear things like this. But he'd seen her ogling similar things in a magazine once or twice, and she was very fond of some of the gauzier curtains in the house. Even if they all had moth holes. “Do you think that's enough?” His shop attendant asked looking up, craning her neck to see over the stack of gifts. “Uh, think so, one 'er two more things. I we-was thinkin' I might get her sum 've those tinted glasses...An' a sewin' machine. One 've the treadle 'uns.” In truth the sewing machine was for Wilbur, who's continued growth spurts meant he was spending an enormous time trying to stitch together his own clothes. Hopefully this would speed things along. “Oh I know where both of those are, just follow me.” Wilbur did, staggering after her, carrying his precarious load. “Would you like us to gift wrap those for you?” Wilbur had to peer down and around to see her. “Yeah, that'd be...good.” “Okay, I think, just put them down here.” Wilbur did, dropping the whole stack on the table. Trying to pick up the sewing machine had been a mistake. People always assumed that his size came with strength to match, but after only a few moments his arms felt like jelly. “And you said you're also shopping for your brother?” His assistant was currently wrapping a hat box in a garishly bright paper covered in pictures of stockings and cats. Tying ribbon into bows it seemed almost a crime to tear it apart later. Wilbur had an overwhelming feeling He'd be seeing the same piece of wrapping paper for the rest of his natural life, trundled out at every birthday and solstice until it disintegrated or his pa's friends destroyed the world. "Ah, yeah...he's lookin fe-for a..." Wilbur trialled off here knowing exactly what he needed to say but not quite able to get the word out. "Dog." He finally spat. His volume dropping to barely above a whisper, as if mentioning the word might summon ten. She looked up at him puzzled. "Sir, we're not a pet sho-"

"I know that." He snapped back. "He can't have a real 'un." There was a note of actual panic in that last sentence, his assistant flinched at the sudden snapping. Pausing mid ribbon bow, she was about to apologize for speaking out of turn but Wilbur continued. "I'm allergic, is the thing. So I thought I'd get 'im one of those toy one's, yew know, with the leash an' the wheels. Just, needs t' be a real big one." She nodded at the explanation.

"Well I'm certain we have something close in the toy department. It's just upstairs. You can pick up your packages when you're done."

As much as he hadn't been particularly offensive as a customer she really was glad to be rid of him. She couldn’t place what about those goatish features made her so uncomfortable, but something definitely did.  She very quickly turned her attention back to the shawl she was packing to avoid studying them further.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Wilbur said. Excusing himself to trundle upstairs. He got lost on the way of course. Anyone who's spent signifiant time in a department store can understand exactly how easy that is, although in retrospect Wilbur could have followed the cacodaemoniacal shrieks of small children and found it quickly enough.

Something small and fast blundered into his legs he jumped, it let out a high-pitched shriek of terror when it looked up to see who it had collided with. Wilbur was sneering down at the kid. Some other parents pulled their children closer to them.

Typical.

Some other brat blew a raspberry at him. In Dunwich at least people knew to give him a wide berth. That trying that sort of thing was a good way to get your crops blighted. He ignored them to instead move as quick as he could to the desk. Calling the clerk's attention with startling ease despite the crowd. Being over a foot taller than the masses had some advantages. At least here he had some clear goal. It made everything so much easier. Knowing what you were here for. "...Just bring me the biggest 'un yew've got." He finished explaining to the desk clerk, before she scurried off. Leaving Wilbur to mill about and wait, unable to help himself from pulling a face or two at the small children who tried the same with him. Or chuckling when one of them started crying. A thoroughly inhuman noise which drew even more strange looks. That brief good mood vanished when he saw the plush Great Dane. "Is this big enough?" Wilbur nodded suddenly sheepish. "It'll dew." He picked it up under one arm, glad it was lighter than the sewing machine, still awkward though. He ended up buying a wagon too. Something to haul the rest around in. And then he was done.

Well, technically there was one thing left on the gift list. But that wasn't found in any department store. He toyed with buying a wedding gift for Pickman as he loaded up the rest of his stuff. But decided against it. They weren't friends. And if he had to spend another minute in this crowded hell scape he might scream. So, with a gigantic plush dog under one arm, and a wagon loaded with prettily wrapped parcels, Wilbur Whateley headed out, to the graveyard, and after that, finally, back to Dunwich.