#you’re trying to show him a new top but he’s too entranced with your shoulder blades— too keen to press a thousand kisses there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bbyleiah · 1 year ago

Text

daze.

| reader is new in town and goes around with her bestfriend. She meets Onyankopon who is entranced by her at first sight and is set on making her his. |

cw : strangers to lovers. dom! Ony, fem! sub shy awkward reader, reader is black, doggy style, anal play (ony eats her ass), oral sex (f receiving), spit, fluids, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (mamas, princess, lil ‘ma, etc.), praise, biting, pussy slapping, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock drunk reader, slight pussy drunk ony, overstimulation, crying, pwp.

word count : hella long bc there’s lots of plot 🥹

sn : wrote this for fun, hopefully y’all will enjoy it 💞

You had been away for college for a long while but now that you graduated with your masters degree and had a break, you came to visit your best friend. You were hesitant about being in a new environment again but you were excited to see your bestfriend because it had been so long since the two of you spent time together.

The two of you were polar opposites, her being loud and charismatic, feisty and unafraid to show off her rambunctious personality. You on the other hand were shy, mostly quiet and meek, only getting out of your shell when you were comfortable with people. You guys suited each other perfectly though, the true definition of opposites attracting.

You squinted your eyes, your car now in a slow stroll along the street as you searched for your friend’s address. You perked up once you found it, pulling into her driveway and parking. Excitement built up inside you as you hopped out the car and approached her front door. You knocked a little too eagerly but you couldn’t help yourself. Nao was excited as well, rushing to open the door and hug you.

You both squealed as you hugged dramatically and spun a bit. “Bitch I missed your ass so much! Oh my god I have so much tea for you!” Nao exclaimed excitedly. You giggled, “I missed you so much too. You always have something going on. I can’t wait to hear all about it though.” You smiled at her. “ugh, my baby is back with me.” Nao sighed dramatically before she kissed your cheeks. You loved the affection, Nao always giving motherly vibes.

Nao helped you get your bags from your car and she didn’t waste any time to start ranting to you as you two began to unpack your things in her guest room. “—He really tried to play in my face like I’m one of his lil hoes. Can’t stand these niggas out here. He keep tryna blow up my phone but I’m ignoring his ass.” Nao expressed while shaking her head. You just took in the info, laughing a little. “Which one was this? Eren?” You asked, trying to keep up.

“Nah, Eren my baby boy. I’m talking about Connie hoe ass. Connie mad now because him and Eren homeboys. I don’t give a fuck though.” Nao said honestly with a cackle. “Oh my god, that’s so messy. I support though. As you should!” You encouraged with a laugh. “What about you though sis? Any dude try to pull up on you at college?” Nao asked.

“Nope. Well I guess some tried but they were all weirdos, I wasn’t interested. Plus you know I need someone who will take care of me.” You said honestly with a hum. “Girl, you need to put yourself out there more. You’re a bad bitch, I’m sure guys will drool over you. You’re just too picky.” She said while shaking her head in disapproval. “I could put you on.” She suggested as she perked up.

“No, no. I refuse to be put on with one of those guys you hang around. You know that’s not my vibe.” You refused immediately. “Ugh, come on! Just give it a chance!. We could literally pull up at Connie’s crib, everyone be over there.” She persuaded with a pout as she pulled on your arm. “Eh, the guys you hang with wouldn’t even be interested in me.” You sighed.

“You don’t know that!. Just come with me, please? Pretty please? Cherry on top? Love and adore you forever?” She begged as she laid her head on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, laughing “alright, I’ll come. But! I’m not getting put on with no one.” You clarified. “Yay! So exciting!” She cheered in victory. “Isn’t it gonna be awkward for you to be at Connie’s house though?” You asked once you realized.

“Eh, he don’t mind. He too obsessed with me to leave me alone.” She confidently said with a shrug, you laughed. “Y’all are a mess. That’s exactly why I will not partake in that kind of relationship.” You stated. “You will when you find some good dick.” She blurted causing you to gasp and hit her with a pillow, she burst out laughing at your reaction. It was nice spending time with Nao again, the two of you spent the rest of the night catching up and enjoying each other’s company.

*************************************************

You were dreading this gathering now, you hated meeting people. You had Nao by your side though so you figured it wouldn’t be so bad. Nao looked sexy as fuck, dressed in a red corset top, a black jean skirt, and some ‘university red’ dunks with her crinkle curl black lace front, gold jewelry to compliment the outfit.

You differed in style, dressed in a lacy white tank top with a white cardigan, you wore a pink skirt with white leg warmers and pink converse, your hair was in a half up half down look and you had on hoop earrings with a little charm bracelet. “You look so adorbs!” Nao gushed over you. You blushed, “thanks, you look so good. They’re gonna drool over you forreal.” You complimented with a giggle.

“That’s the goal.” She sassily said as she flipped her hair. The two of you walked up to what was apparently Connie’s house and Nao didn’t even bother to knock, just walking on in like she owned the place. Luckily for you it wasn’t overly crowded, just a couple people hanging around. It appeared this house was a true hang out spot. “Yoo, losers. The baddest bitch has arrived.” Nao greeted theatrically.

Everyone greeted her too, she was clearly comfy with everyone here, you just followed behind her like a clueless puppy only uttering ‘hi’s’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ whenever Nao introduced you to people. Unbeknownst to you, someone had taken a particular interest in you. “Yo, who’s lil mama?” Ony asked Jean as they stood together sharing a blunt. “Uh don’t know but she came with Nao. They’re homegirls” Jean shrugged.

“Mm.” Ony hummed in response to the information, still observing you with his low slightly red eyes. “What? You tryna hit that?” Jean asked with a laugh. “Nah, just curious.” Ony dismissed. It was rare to see a cute thing like you around so it intrigued Ony, he didn’t typically go for girls like you but he wouldn’t mind taking his chances. You caught his stare when you began to mindlessly look around, it caught you off guard seeing the male staring at you so intensely.

It also confused you a bit, you didn’t understand why he was looking at you. You unconsciously pouted a bit and tilted your head as you tried to think of what the reason could be. Ony felt his heart swoon a little at the adorable sight, you were just too cute. “Lying ass. You definitely wanna tap that.” Jean laughed as he peeped the scene. “Shut your ass up.” Ony snapped.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked Nao. She looked at you confused, “No, why do you think that?” She asked as she thoroughly inspected your face. “Because some guy was staring at me so I wanted to make sure. That would’ve been embarrassing.” You said in slight relief. “Which guy?!” She perked up, eager to find out. You subtly pointed to him, standing against the wall with some other guy.

He was dressed in black cargo pants and a white tee, a black durag on his head with some white forces on his feet. He had little diamond stud earrings in his ears and a silver chain around his neck. He had a tattoo on one of his hands and one on his collarbone. “Oo! That’s Ony! Girl that is crazy! Ony doesn’t get interested in many girls. You should go speak!” Nao excitedly encouraged.

You sheepishly shook your head, “Noo, you know I hate approaching people.” You said as you played with your sweater paws. “I know but you need to put yourself out there!. You want me to call him over?” She offered. Your eyes went wide, frantically shaking your head, not liking that idea at all. Nao sighed, “Well I’m not gonna put you in an uncomfortable position but I really think you should feel him out.” She hummed. You chewed on your lip, debating it as you glanced at him.

He was definitely attractive but he seemed way out of your league. You wouldn’t even know how to handle a guy like him. This time he was the one who caught you staring, blowing smoke from his mouth after taking a hit from a blunt. You immediately looked away, flustered that he caught you looking at him. Ony smirked at your shy reaction, “she’s too damn cute.” He mumbled to himself. “Bro just go over and talk to her at this point instead of drooling, damn.” Jean said, annoyed.

Ony rolled his eyes, elbowing Jean in the side before he actually did take the initiative and walked up to you. You didn’t even notice him approaching, turned towards Nao and focused on what she was currently chatting about. Ony cleared his throat once he stood behind you, instantly gaining your attention as you whipped around to see who it was. “What’s up little ‘ma.” Ony greeted once he had your attention. You stared at up him like a deer in headlights, “Uhm..hi~” you replied shyly.

Nao’s eyes flickered between the two of you knowingly with a mischievous grin on her face. She didn’t waste any time slipping away so that you and ony could talk privately. “You new around here?” Ony asked you, starting small talk as he took a sip from his red solo cup. “Yeah, I just got here the other day” You said as you began to nervously play with your hair, you knew you were probably being awkward but you sucked at conversation. Ony didn’t mind your shy awkward demeanor though, finding it adorable.

“Oh my bad, I’m onyankopon by the way but you can call me ony.” He introduced himself with a smile, allowing you to see the silver grill on the bottom row of his teeth. He was definitely not the type of guy to go for a girl like you. “Nice to meet you~” You said your usual textbook reply, smiling back at him politely. Ony fixated on your pretty smile, your little dimples appearing on your cheeks along with your glossy lips. In that moment he felt like he’d do whatever to keep that smile on your face.

“You close with Nao?” He questioned. You nodded, “Mhm, she’s my bestfriend, we’ve been close for a long time and I love her a lot.” You expressed happily as you grinned. “That’s cute.” Ony smiled, enjoying seeing you happily ramble. Ony’s stare was so intense and intimidating as he ate up every detail of your figure with his eyes, it made your heart pound furiously in your chest. That ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom nonstop in your system.

“My homie Jean convinced me to approach you since I kept staring at you, hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” Ony chuckled as he rubbed at his chin. “Oh!, I wasn’t uncomfortable, just mostly confused..I didn’t understand why you were staring at me.” You admitted honestly with a soft laugh as you shyly fiddled with your charm bracelet.

Ony’s eyes tracked the movement, fully attentive to your every action. “Because you’re beautiful. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t keep my eyes off you mama.” Ony’s low sultry voice spoke honestly as he stared into your now wide eyes. “I-I uhm..” You stuttered out, speechless and beyond flustered now. You even let out a faint whine in embarrassment as you shifted from foot to foot.

You weren’t used to such shameless and honest flattery so you didn’t know how to process it and respond. Ony was torn because a part of him loved watching you squirm and crumble because of his words, and the other part of him wanted to ease your turmoil and comfort you. “You can relax mama, it’s alright. I just wanted to clear up your confusion.” His comforting side won, his voice soft and soothing.

“Sorry, I’m not used to accepting compliments, especially from a guy like you..thank you though.” You managed out after awhile, breathing out to calm yourself. “A guy like me? What’s that mean mama?” Ony prodded with a teasing grin. You swore you’d fold and burst at the seams if he called you ‘mama’ one more time. The way it rolled off his tongue just sounded so nice.

“I-I mean..uh..” You stammered out as you smiled shyly. “You know, you’re attractive and intimidating..and you go for girls like Nao” You explained, completely embarrassed. Ony was highly amused as he listened to you try to elaborate, a grin on his face. “Cute. You think I’m attractive sweet girl?” Ony asked, continuing to tease. “Also I don’t go for girls like Nao. I want you.” Ony said honestly.

You felt your heart skip a beat hearing that, getting a little giddy as you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your huge smile. Ony eyed the action of you biting your lip, his mind drifting to a not so innocent place. “Let me take you out on a date.” He suddenly said. You looked at him in slight shock, his straightforwardness catching you off guard.

You contemplated your answer because you were unsure. You did think Ony was very attractive and you liked talking to him but you were afraid of this not going well. You decided to take Nao’s advice though and take your chances. “okay, I’d love to~” You smiled. Ony felt like he won the lottery. The two of you then exchanged numbers before Ony got pulled away by his friends.

“I’ll text you later mamas.” Ony told you before y’all parted ways. You were giddy to tell Nao all the details about your interaction with Ony. He stayed true to his word too, texting you sooner than you expected. You texted him on your way back home with Nao. “This is soo exciting! Do you know where he’s taking you yet?” Nao questioned excitedly as she drove.

“A restaurant, I think it’s fancy.” You informed her. “Oo can I dress you up? Pretty please, I wanna make you all sexy. Make him lose his shit.” Nao laughed. “Of course that’s what you wanna do.” You laughed too while shaking your head. “You can dress me up though, I want the sexy bad bitch vibes.” You agreed, thinking it’d be nice to switch it up for this occasion.

“Yessuh!, You’re gonna get dicked down real good.” Nao cackled evilly. You gasped, “You’re nasty! Horny ass.” You laughed in disbelief. “Girl you know damn well you’re not miss innocent, with your kinky ass.” Nao called you out as the two of you laughed together. “Hush, I still have class~” You huffed with a grin.

Throughout the night you and Ony texted nonstop, him constantly flattering you and giving you butterflies with his sweet words. Despite you being really shy in person you were more bold through text, saying things you’d never say directly to his face but it was fun to play around. Little did you know though, Ony was gonna make you stand on your words.

onyanbear 😫🧸: why you keep playing with me ma? you think I won’t put you in your place?

you : bc it’s funnn, you’re not gonna do anything. You’re scaryyy, all talk, no action

onyanbear 😫🧸 : ight, keep talking that big girl shit. We’ll see.

You were giggling and kicking your feet reading his responses, you knew you were probably digging yourself a hole but it was too fun to tease and provoke him. You honestly didn’t think he’d actually act on his words. You’d learn soon enough though that he was not playing.

*************************************************

You were honestly a nervous wreck as you prepared for your date with Ony. You hadn’t been on a date in awhile and you’d say you had a crush on Ony at this point so it was exciting and nerve-racking all at the same time. Nao provided you with a little silk black dress that shaped your curves in all the right ways and showed off your figure. You paired the dress with black heels that wrapped up your ankles.

You curled your hair, doing a natural makeup beat and putting on red lipstick. This was definitely different from your usual cutesy style but you looked good. You put on jewelry, just some stud earrings and a bracelet, along with an anklet. “You look good as fuck! I’m so proud.” Nao exclaimed before she began taking pictures of you like a proud mom.

“Thank you” You laughed and posed for some of the pictures. “When’s he pulling up?” Nao asked. “Uhm in about 10 minutes or so I think.” You hummed as you checked your phone, seeing his text saying that he was on his way. “You excited? You like him so far?” Nao prodded teasingly and eagerly. You giggled, “I am excited but I also feel like throwing up from nerves. I do like him so far..he’s nice.” You admitted with a shy smitten grin.

“Oo, this is so adorable. I’m happy you’re giving him a chance.” Nao smiled. Soon Ony pulled up, calling you to let you know he was outside. “Okay I’ll be out soon!~” You told him. You quickly got up, spraying on your favorite perfume and grabbing your purse before you walked out to see Ony standing outside his car waiting for you. His attention was on you the second you stepped out, eyes eating up your figure.

“You look so sexy ‘ma. breathtaking.” Ony hummed, not being able to take his eyes off you as his hands found their way to your waist. Your face flushed, growing shy as your stomach swarmed with flutters at his words and the feel of his hands on your body. “Thank you” You said with a smile. “You look good too, really good.” You returned the flattery as you eyed him as well.

He was dressed in a black and grey hockey jersey and some black jeans, ‘panda’ dunks on his feet. He had on the same chain and he had rings adorning his fingers this time. He smelled so good too, his intoxicating scent so yummy in your nostrils. “thanks mama.” Ony grinned before he pecked your cheek. He was being extra touchy this time around but you didn’t mind it at all, you were soaking it up actually.

“Let’s go.” Ony said as he opened the car door for you, allowing you to slide into the passenger seat. He closed the door after you and then rounded around the car and sat in the driver’s seat. He adjusted the air and the radio before he began to drive. You just watched him the whole time, completely infatuated with him and his whole aura. Your inner thoughts screaming about how he was ‘fine as fuck’. You wouldn’t say it out loud though, too shy to do so.

“You staring real hard lil mama, see something you want?” Ony asked in that smooth low voice of his that made you melt, his eyes still focused on the road but his attention completely on you. ‘slow down’ by bobby valentino played lowly on the radio, creating a mood in the car and further adding to the building tension. You didn’t know how to respond, mouth parting but no words coming out, flustered by his question.

You did see something you wanted, you wanted him, really badly too. You weren’t gonna admit that though. “N-No..just like staring at you..” You partially confessed sheepishly as you played with the hem of your dress. Ony chuckled, the sound filling your ears and consuming you, so pleasing to your senses. “That’s cute baby. You’re so shy now, what happened to big girl in my messages? Talking all big about how I can’t handle you, you gon’ make me nut in my pants, how I ain’t gon’ do shit, I’m not daddy material, Hm? Where’s that energy at ‘ma?” Ony called you out, making your eyes blow wide.

You didn’t think he’d make you eat your words, it was embarrassing hearing your own words repeated back to you. “I-I..I was playing!” You defended, not wanting to bury yourself further. “Ah, so you’re the one that’s scary then? All talk, no action? Ain’t that what you said?. After you said I wouldn’t bend you over my lap and spank your little ass.” Ony continued, loving seeing you fall apart from being called out.

You were pouting now, “I’m not scary, I did say that and I was right. You still ain’t do shit.” You huffed, now standing on your words because you weren’t gonna let him doubt you and call you ‘scary’. “Mm.” was all Ony said in response as he grinned, he was glad you were still being a brat, just so he could turn you right back out. The two of you arrived at the restaurant and once Ony parked he was quick to snatch you up by your neck.

You let out a choked gasp, staring at him wide eyed as he pulled your face towards his, his large hard squeezing around your throat making you whine. “I love that attitude shit ‘ma. It makes my day. You keep fucking with me because you want me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?” Ony uttered against your lips, your breaths mingling together, the proximity and his words putting you in a daze.

“You want daddy to fuck you stupid? Turn you into my good girl?” Ony hummed, you let out another whine. You wanted to kiss him so bad, your lips parted, tongue practically about to fall out from how desperately you wanted it. Right when you tried to lean in, Ony pulled away and let you go. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.” He said as he got out of the car.

You were bewildered, stuck processing what just happened as Ony opened the passenger side door for you. Ony was completely amused at the lost look on your face, it was priceless. He contained his nonchalant appearance though. “Come back to me mama, let’s go.” Ony hummed, trying to snap you out of your trance.

It worked, you immediately got out of the car and began to follow him into the restaurant, a slight embarrassed flush on your face as you realized how desperate you must’ve looked moments ago. Ony led the two of you to your table once you entered the restaurant. Being the gentleman he was he pulled your seat out for you, “thank you” you said softly with a smile as you sat down.

He hummed in response and pushed your seat in. The two of you got settled and ordered. “You gonna act like a good girl now?” Ony asked you after the waiter left, slightly joking as he looked at you. You pouted, “No” you huffed softly. You were gonna stand your ground, plus you were still disappointed that he didn’t actually kiss you. Ony chuckled at your response.

“You’re lucky you’re cute as fuck.” He expressed with a grin. You were flattered, folding again at his sweet words as you smiled and grew shy again. “I tried to look sexy today though” You muttered as you adjusted your dress a bit. “You do look sexy, very sexy. You also look cute though, cutest thing ever. You have a nice mix of both.” He told you honestly, only flattering you more as you grinned giddily.

“Not cute enough for you to kiss me though..” you mumbled, you intended to say that in your head and not out loud but it slipped. Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, he was satisfied with getting you all sulky. “don’t laugh~ it’s embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face with your hands. “My bad baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s adorable you want me to kiss you so bad.” He comforted with a soft laugh as he pulled your hands away from your face, kissing your hands as he did.

You felt those now familiar butterflies swarm in your system at his soft plump lips against your hands. You could only imagine feeling his lips elsewhere..the thought giving you shivers. “You happy now?” He asked as he now held your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You loved it so much, his hand in yours, it was so comforting and intimate. You wished he’d kiss your lips but you were happy with what was given to you. “I am, very happy” You giggled.

“that’s good mamas.” He smiled before he kissed your hand again, kissing down to your wrist. “You smell good as fuck..got me wanting to eat you ‘ma..” he sighed as he looked into your eyes. You stared back, silent now but your heart pounding loudly in your ears. That ravenous look in his eyes had you stuck, your breathing slowing as anticipation began to build inside you.

Ony constantly kept you on edge but you loved it, and sometimes you felt the urge to go over that edge. “Why don’t you then?” You uttered out, not backing down from his stare. Ony smiled at your words, “You’d like that wouldn’t you mamas? My head between your legs? That sweet pussy suffocating me?” He teased. If you weren’t wet already, you definitely were now. His words effecting you and making your pussy ache to be touched.

“I would like that, soo much, please” You hadn’t intended to beg but it seemed Ony made you desperate with ease. He chuckled, “We’re gonna eat first babe and have our date, you can be a good girl and wait.” He stated before he kissed your cheek. You pouted but agreed, wanting to be good and also wanting to finish your date since you’d been excited for this date.

Soon the food arrived and the two of you began to eat, the food was heavenly. You two talked and got to know each other even more. “—So you’re beautiful and smart as hell, I hit the jackpot.” Ony grinned. You had just finished telling him about your college accomplishments, “oh hush, you probably have had plenty of smart beautiful women.” You giggled.

“Nah, none like you at least. You’re a gem mamas.” He said genuinely. His sweet words always made you swoon, falling for him more and more by the second. “You’re so sweet to me.” You said softly as you smiled. “You deserve it and I’m tryna make you mine so I have to be sweet to you.” He smiled as he finished off the dessert you ordered. You gasped, “You ate the last bite!” You whined in disappointment stomping your feet in your heels.

Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, cackling as you pouted and sulked like a baby. “You’re not sweet anymore.” You huffed as you crossed your arms. “God, you’re so cute it makes me sick.” He said with a grin while shaking his head as his laughter died down. “Here ‘ma, you can taste the last bite too.” He said before he grabbed you by your jaw and kissed you deeply.

It caught you off guard, you took a minute to process what was happening before you began to kiss him back. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue pushing through the seam of your lips to fill your mouth, allowing you to taste the residual of the dessert. He dominated the kiss easily, his tongue tangling messily with yours and pushing against the insides of your cheeks. He began to suck on your tongue, making you moan into the kiss.

“shit..” he groaned lowly as he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still. Your head was fuzzy from the kiss, your breathing heavier as your now low lust filled eyes stared into Ony’s pretty brown eyes. He licked his lips, breaking the saliva string between your lips. Your eyes fixated on the movement, completely entranced by the man.

Ony was just as enamored by you, your red lipstick now slightly smudged on your plush lips. That needy look in your eyes that seemed eager to be satiated. You were just so beautiful and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Mm, you taste better than the dessert mama” he said, it was kinda a cheesy line but he meant it. “Should’ve kiss you sooner..” he mumbled before he pecked your lips again repeatedly.

You loved every second of it, kissing him back as much as you could, smiling into the kisses. You felt completely head over heels at this point. “Let’s head out mama” he hummed as he pulled away. He paid for the meal and held your hand as you two exited the restaurant, getting back into his car. You were in a relaxed state on the night drive, ony’s hand resting on your thigh and your head leaned against the window, shamelessly watching him as he drove.

“You wanna go back to my place baby?” Ony asked as he gave your thigh a small squeeze. “Yes please” you said, a little too eagerly causing ony to chuckle. You couldn’t help it though, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, be completely consumed by him. It wasn’t long before you guys arrived at his house.

You observed the place with curiosity, “You live alone?” You questioned as the two of you got out of the car. “Mhm, roommates aren’t my style. Too much of a hassle. I like having my own shit.” He said as he unlocked his front door. You nodded in understanding, “Makes sense.” You hummed before letting out a squeak in surprise when Ony suddenly picked you up.

You didn’t get a chance to get a word out before Ony started eating your face, kissing you with desperation as he gripped your ass. Truth be told Ony couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, being tempted the whole time as you provoked him and he snapped after he kissed you, wanting to devour you whole after that. You moaned into the kiss, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you pulled him closer.

Ony began to carry you upstairs to his bedroom as the two of you continued kissing. He sucked on your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth and making you whine out. He loved all the cute noises you made, wanting to pull more of them out of you. He left opened mouthed kisses down your neck prior to running his tongue up your neck all the way to your ear, pulling your earlobe into his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of you.

You shivered at the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive ear, your nails beginning to dig into his neck as you whined pathetically. He threw you onto the bed once you guys made it to his bedroom, making you gasp. “Mhm, I ain’t forget about all that big girl shit you talked. You gon’ learn not to play in my face.” He reminded you as he pulled his shirt off, allowing you to see his bare upper body, his chest covered in tattoos.

You gawked at him, your eyes eating up every detail of his body. Ony pulled you by your legs, treating you like a rag doll as he parted your thighs causing your little dress to rise up. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful ‘ma” Ony sighed in delight as he began to kiss from your calf up to your inner thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his kisses. You flushed at his compliment, you loved the nonstop flattery.

You wanted him so badly, watching him as he took his time getting to the place that ached so desperately to be touched. Ony paused once he reached your wet cunt, his breath ghosting against your clothed cunt in an agonizingly teasing way. You quickly grew impatient as you began to whine and squirm, “stop teasing me” you huffed as you whined. He chuckled, “So fuckin’ needy” he tsked as he slapped your thigh to get you to stop squirming.

You whimpered and pouted but ceased your movement, “you’re taking too long. still no action…” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “You ain’t getting shit from me unless you start actin’ right mama” he stated as he stared up at you. You stared back at him, huffing once you realized you weren’t gonna win in this situation. “fine, I’ll act right..” you obliged. “good girl.” He praised and placed a kiss on your clothed clit.

You swooned at the praise, soaking it up more than you thought you would. Ony didn’t waste anymore time, pulling your panties off and tossing them aside before he delve into your sweet pussy, dragging his tongue through your slick folds. You moaned out in satisfaction at finally getting what you had been craving since you saw ony standing outside his car waiting for you.

He suckled on your throbbing bud, his fingers spreading your lips apart as he focused on the sensitive ball of nerves. You gripped the bedsheets as you whined and moaned out shamelessly in pleasure. You were a dripping mess, ony making sure to lick up all of your fluids, the lewd slurping and sucking sounds filling the room as he did.

“such a pretty fuckin’ pussy” he awed as he pulled away and stared at your messy cunt, glistening with your slick. Ony spit on your pussy, adding to the filthy mess before he pushed his tongue into your entrance. “oh fuck” you moaned as you threw your head back, falling apart at the feeling of ony’s tongue fucking into you. Ony hummed as he devoured you with ease, enjoying every second of it and loving the sight of you becoming an incoherent mess.

His eyes fixated on you and your every reaction. Your dress bunched up around your waist, your hair sprawled out on his bedsheets, mouth parted in bliss and your eyes fluttered shut, cheeks flushed and nipples hard. You looked so beautiful, Ony felt like he was looking at a work of art. Ony licked up the fluids that ran down to your ass, you gasped and instinctively tried to close your legs when you felt his tongue prod at that hole that hadn’t been touched before.

“nah, none of that shit. stop playin’ with me.” He said as he pulled your legs back apart, gripping them in place so you couldn’t move them. You whined, shaking your head and squirming when you felt Ony’s thumb pressing on your ass hole. “n-not there..” you whimpered, not used to being touched there. “relax mama, let me take care of you. You can handle it.” He soothed as he placed kisses on tummy.

Ony used the mixture of his saliva and your juices as lubricant to ease his thumb into your tight hole, “onyy~” you cried out at the feeling as you clawed at the bedsheets. “You’re doing so good mamas” he praised before he started to eat you out again while his thumb continued to stimulate your sensitive hole. Tears brimmed your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, your senses on overdrive at the combined feeling of ony’s tongue on your achy pussy and his thumb stretching your backside.

Ony stretched the tight ring until he was satisfied and then he pushed his tongue into your puckered hole, making you squeal as your back arched. He groaned as he fucked his tongue into you, starting this pattern of licking from your ass all the way back up to your throbbing clit, messily eating you out as drool pooled from his mouth onto your cunt down to your ass crack. You were a moaning mess underneath him, never experiencing such immense pleasure before.

The lower half of ony’s face was soaked in your juices, wetting his pretty beard that adorned his face. He loved every second of being buried between your legs, drowning in your essence. “sweet fuckin’ pussy, so good mamas. fuck.” He groaned as he ate you out like you were the best meal he’d ever had. You were a mess, makeup runny from your tears, eyes rolled back, legs trembling as your orgasm approached you like a truck.

“m’ gonna—ah fuck gonna cum mmph!” you cried out in bliss as that knot in your stomach bubbled to burst. “cum for me princess” he rasped, pulling your clit between his teeth and tugging at it. You screamed as you came, gushing all over ony and soiling his bedsheets in your fluids. Ony licked up all of your mess, moaning as he swallowed up your sweet juices like it was his favorite treat.

You sniffled and whined in sensitivity as he continued to lap at your cunt, feebly pushing at his head only for him to slap your hands away. “s’ too much” you whimpered with a pout, head still fuzzy from your orgasm. “Nah, I’m not done with you yet. Shut that shit up.” He said and he slapped your twitching pussy causing you to let out a sob. “You a big girl, right?” He taunted as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling your hips up into the air, pushing your back into a painful arch.

“Mm, my pretty girl” He cooed, rubbing his hand soothingly over your ass as he admired you in this position. You relished in the adoration, loving it and its contrast to his mean attitude. Ony took off his jeans, releasing his hard cock that was painfully hard and pearling precum at the tip. He sighed in delight as he stroked his cock and placed kisses down your spine, using his free hand to pull your dress off the rest of the way, you assisting him and throwing the dress aside.

Ony ran his cock through your puffy wet folds, his tip nudging your clit as he teased you making you whine. “Such a whiny slut.” He remarked in a mocking tone. “I wan’ it, please.” You begged shamelessly with a sob, you were so desperate and craved him so badly, you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you were acting at the moment. He grinned at your begging, “I thought it was too much?” He teased.

He pushed into you, throwing his head back as the two of you moaned in unison at the feeling. “shitt” he groaned out as he got lost in the feel of your tight walls swallowing up his cock. “feels so fuckin’ good mama” he grunted as he began to pound into you, not wasting a second as his gripped your hips tight enough to bruise. You became a babbling mess as he fucked you mercilessly, pulling your hips back hard against his each time he thrusted into you.

“love this pussy, so fuckin pretty and wet and warm..shit princess.” Ony rambled as he got fixated on how good you felt around him, your cunt gushing around him with every thrust. “s’ soo g-good daddy~” you babbled incoherently into the mattress, mouth parted, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth and your head in the clouds as ony used you like his own personal fleshlight. “Mhm, you like it ‘ma? Love daddy’s dick rearranging your guts?” He said as he wrapped a hand around your throat, leaning over you as his cock drilled deeper into you.

All you could do is nod in response, unable to form words as your body was consumed in pleasure, ony’s dick hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. “you’re so fuckin’ cute. so fuckin’ pretty. wanna ruin you sweet girl.” He couldn’t get over how pretty you were, especially in this state. Your hair a mess, sticking to your sweaty body, back arched and ass up, pretty brown skin glowing under the moonlight shinning through ony’s window, inner thighs covered in your slick, lips swollen and red, cheeks squished in ony’s grip on your face, eyeliner and mascara runny underneath your eyes and down your cheeks, hands trembling as you struggled to hold yourself up.

Ony couldn’t get enough of the sight, wanting it engrained in his mind forever. He pulled your face towards his, kissing you passionately and messily as he continued to pound into you, the filthy mixture of your slick and his precum coating his pubic hairs and his happy trail. You moaned into the kiss, kissing back with just as much passion as you sucked on ony’s tongue making him groan. You loved it everytime he kissed you, the intimacy of it making your heart stutter.

Ony let his spit pool into your mouth as he broke the kiss, his opened mouth hovering over yours as you stuck your tongue out like a greedy pet, swallowing up every string of his thick saliva. “fuck..nasty fuckin’ girl. Gon’ make me nut mama” He groaned as he pounded into you incessantly. By now you were fucked dumb, not a single thought behind your dilated rolled back eyes.

All you knew at the moment was ony ony ony, his scent, the feel of his muscular framed body pressed against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue, the grip of his large rough hands manhandling your body as he pleased, the way his cock filled up your plush wet walls and satiated every ache, itch, and burning desire inside you. He overtook your entire being, bringing you to pure ecstasy.

Your climax hit you before you could even prepare for it, letting out a high pitched moan and sobbing into the mattress as you creamed all over ony’s cock. “that’s it mama, oh fuck- good fuckin’ girl. making a mess on my dick” he talked you through it as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body trembling as you fell apart completely, no longer able to hold yourself up as you whined in overstimulation.

Ony felt his head go fuzzy at the way your pussy pulsed and clenched around his dick, the lewd squelch echoing with every thrust as ony chased his own orgasm. “c-cum’n me please wan’ it” you manage to babble out, your words slurred and muffled into the bed. It took ony a moment to process your words, his brain muddled as he became pussy drunk, obsessed with your filthy warm walls sucking up every inch of his dick.

“You want it baby? Ah shit- want daddy to fill up your greedy cunt?. I’ll give you whatever you want pretty girl.” He moaned as his pace got desperate and sloppy as he felt that sensation build up inside him. “fuckk fuck!” He moaned out, throwing his head back as he finally came, his cum spurting out in loads and coating your walls, filling you up to the brim. You whined at the warm feeling as your cunt milked him dry.

Ony breathed heavily as his thrust slowed to a stop, “you okay sweet girl?” he asked softly as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. You only hummed and nodded in response, half passed out at this point. You were completely fucked out, body relaxed and exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure. Satisfied with your response, ony slowly pulled out, the mixture of your fluids pouring out messily and bubbling as he did. Ony loved the mess, the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs and his dick covered in the filth.

You snuggled deeper into the bed as ony got up and began to clean you up gently, not wanting to add more stress to your already spent body. He cleaned up himself as well before he tucked you in and climbed into bed with you. He admired your peaceful state, looking so beautiful and claimed by him. “I like you..onya~” you mumbled out in your half conscious state.

It caught Ony completely off guard but it made him smile, his heart swelling at your adorable confession. “I like you too sweetheart” he replied softly before he placed a kiss on your cheek. You smiled drowsily, happy to have met ony and taken a chance on him.

[thank you to everyone who read this, I appreciate it sm 🥹]

#aot #aot fanfiction #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #aot x black reader #onyankopon snk #fanfic #ony x black reader #aot x y/n #pwp fics

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sugarushwriting · 2 months ago

Text

exotic dancer lee minho x reader

you just ended a relationship, your friends try to cheer you up

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

too lazy to proof read sorry

“come on it’ll be fun!”

“momo, you’re talking about male strippers!”

“ah ah, exotic dancers!” momo tsked.

momo and your three other friends dragged you into the strip club where the exotic male dancers were.

background context: you were just dumped by your fiancé of 6 months, who claimed he didn’t love you or wanted to be with you.

you both had dated on and off for 3 years, before he finally proposed 6 months ago. turns out he felt pressured and didn’t want to actually be with you anymore.

3 days ago you found him out in public with his new girlfriend. who yunjin did some digging on, and found your ex had been seeing her for 3 months.

while you two were engaged to be married.

it hurt you. you tried so hard to act like it didn’t, because truth be told, you weren’t actually happy with him. you also felt pressure and the need to be married.

you were in your late twenties, the only thing you had were your career and cats. although that was enough to you, it wasn’t enough for your parents. it wasn’t necessarily that they wanted grandkids, but someone who would take care of you once they pass on.

although you were independent, your parents didn’t want to see you grow old and alone.

inside, the club was all dark lights, poles galore, and shirtless men even more.

before taking a seat, you all stopped by the bar to grab drinks.

you weren’t complaining about the view, it’s just something you weren’t used to—or ever did.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked lost, looking around.

momo led you and your friends to a booth, a pole and stage in the middle.

“relax, let the men dance for you, and tip!”

“do i touch them?”

“only if they invite you to.” momo winked.

you looked at the pamphlet on near the booth’s table, “it looks like this dancer’s name is, cat daddy?”

“mhm, he can be the daddy of my cat, any day.”

“sana, you don’t have a cat.”

“yes i do, and she’s purring right now.” sana laughed, mina, nayeon and momo joining in.

it took you a while to understand the innuendo, and you joined in the laughter, you all quickly quieting down when a man with cat ears came into view near the booth.

with a smirk, he bowed, his muscles showing off in the black sleeveless top he had on, and the tight black pants showing his strong thighs.

“i’m cat daddy, how can i help you beautiful ladies this evening?”

sana and mina fanned themselves, momo engaging in conversation with a pout, “our friend here just went through a terrible break up and could use a great distraction.” momo’s hands were on your shoulder to let the man know who it was.

“i’m sorry to hear that miss, but i can be of great service to distract you.”

“mhm, would you be a great service and give her a private dance? on me, of course, i’ll pay.” momo smirked, catching you off guard as your eyes went wide.

“mo—,” you went to say but she patted your bare thigh to get you to hush.

“of course, is the lady okay with that?” he turned to you, an eyebrow raised up. almost a little taunting or dare for you to say no.

“oh, yeah, i’m okay with that.” you replied.

with a smile, he grabbed your hand, your friends cheering in the back ground. the man led you in hand to the back, where many private rooms where, accompanied by a couple of guards by the main entrance.

“should i call you cat daddy? or is there another name i can use? or maybe you would like to know my name?” you rambled off. you ended up telling the man your name.

with a chuckle, he turned around to face you, a big smile plastered on his face. “i’ll all you kitten. fitting to my name, right?”

“i mean yeah—,”

“and you can just call me daddy.”

your eyes once again went wide, your body rigid at his words. not only your heart thumping in excitement, but also down south.

he pulled you into a vacant room, closing the door behind him, after turning the sign on the door, to say ‘occupied.’

he gestured for you to sit on the chair of the bed in the room.

you choose the bed as it looked the comfiest. “see, uh, i’ve never been at a place like this, so i don’t know what to do,” you rambled as you sat.

he never took his eyes off of you, like a predator stalking his prey.

you kept rambling, unaware of (or trying to ignore) him getting closer to you, soon his face right in front of yours, almost nose to nose.

“lay down kitten.”

“what—,”

you gasped when he forcefully laid you down, you suddenly sitting up on your forearms to look at him like he lost his damn mind.

that thought quickly went away, when he took off his shirt, almost teasingly, rolling his body as he did.

he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs so he stood in between them. grabbing your hands, he held them against his abs, your fingers scratching along, his head tilting back as he moaned lightly from your cold touch.

he guided your hands up to his chest, and around his neck, as he leaned down to your ear. “if you let me, i can make you forget and feel real good for whatever that ex of yours did.” he whispered, sending shivers down your body.

he leaned back to look you in your eyes, you lost in his. he looked so innocent with those eyes of his, but you had a feeling, deep down, he wasn’t so innocent when it came to bed activities.

you smirked, “as long as the ears stay on.”

he smiled back knowingly, “mhm, kitten, i knew you had a side to you that was masked by that innocent act.” he kissed your neck, and whispered, “call me minho.”

minho kissed you once, before his hands grabbed yours again, this time to his pants, wanting you to help him take them off.

you didn’t expect your girls day to turn into a girls night, let alone a night where you end up at an exotic male dancers strip club.

you didn’t expect tonight to become so entranced by a man you didn’t know, to want to know his secrets, wants, and find out why he chose this job or life.

you for sure didn’t expect to have helped a man undress, leaving on his cat ears, and he undressing you of your short skirt and top.

and lastly, you didn’t even think tonight would end up with you on your back, in said club, in a private room, having said man licking between your folds like it was his last day eating on earth.

“oh—oh my,” you gasped then moaned, your hand shooting to minho’s fluffy hair, your back arching off the bed.

his tongue worked between your folds, nose nudging your clit, fingers used to spread you more open for him.

minho hummed and moaned, quietly showing his appreciation for letting him between your thighs.

for the way he was making you feel, you wanted to thank him. ex definitely forgotten, your mind focused on minho’s tongue, the noises, and the grips his hands now had on your thighs to keep you open as you kept threatening to close the closer you got to coming on his tongue.

“minho, i’m—i’m,”

“i know kitten, let go for me, mhm?” he hummed kissing your clit, before his tongue burrowed deep in your opening, you soon becoming over sensitive.

“fuck!” you gasped out, hand gripped tight on minho’s hair, as you tried to calm your racing heart, your chest up and down.

minho kissed up your stomach, to your naked chest, deciding against overstimulating you. for now.

he licked one free nipple, then the other. he continued his way up to find your neck, his teeth latching the skin for a teasing bite.

minho sat up, knees on either side of you, you reached up to his calvin klein boxers, your fingers teasing the band. it sent chills through minho’s body, his dick becoming harder with the touch.

“don’t tease me, kitten.” he warned through a moan.

you smiled, taking out his dick from the tight black boxers, him hard and tip red, already leaking a bit of precome.

with a lick, you lightly brush led your tongue against his tip, before leaving a kiss. you pulled away, your thumb rubbing circles on the tip.

no hesitation, minho scooted closer as smoothly as he could with his boxers around his thighs, and shoved his dick in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with a gag.

you quickly adjusting yourself to his thickness, and grabbed minho’s ass in your hand as he did the work by rocking and rolling his hips against your mouth.

“that’s it baby, take all of me.” he moaned quietly, you getting wet by each second. you were ready for him to just ruin you between your legs. to leave his everlasting mark.

with spits of curses and moans, it didn’t take much longer until minho stilled and came in your mouth.

pulling out, some leaked from your lips, minho quickly running his tongue against the side of your lips before he kissed you, tongue forcing itself inbetween your lips, in your mouth.

spit mixing, sloppy and wet, minho slipped the boxers off of his thighs, never detaching his lips from yours. he laid over you, his tip teasing your folds and clit.

you bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. “ruin me. distract me more.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, as minho plunged his dick into you, no waiting for adjustment.

you let out a gasp at the intrusion, but the gasp was of pleasure, and minho hummed, loving the sounds from your lips.

“i’ll make you forget all about past men you thought could please you, kitten.” minho rolled his hips, to aim deeply into you as much as he could. he wanted to be slow first.

the way he rolled his hips, and whenever he did, hit the right spot in you.

“minho,” you squealed, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“mhm that’s it kitten, scream my name. minho—daddy, will make you forget all about those pathetic excuses of past mistakes.”

you could speak, so you just nodded. eyes closed, as tears threatened to spill at how good he was making you feel.

minho suddenly changed his pace from slow to rough. his hips snapping back before forward, your thighs wrapped around him, thigh on thigh skin slapping.

minho pulled out, getting off the bed, before he tugged you along with him.

you brain was gone dumb, as he guided you to the chair, you gripped one of the arms of the chair, minho lifted your right leg to rest on the chair as the other stayed flat on the floor.

minho plunged into you from behind, the new angle, literally causing your own pussy to squeal along with you. you gasped, mouth wide open, as minho rocked his hips from behind you, fucking into you from behind. cheeks clapping, his hand wrapped around your throat, his veins on display, as his index finger forced its way into your mouth.

you sucked on his finger, his pace never faltering, you felt your pussy leaking from all the wetness coming from you.

his other hand snuck around your body, so two of his fingers could start adding pressure to your clit, sending you to the edge.

you didn’t mean to, but you slightly bit his finger, before screaming out his name. “minho!”

your brain and mind really turned to mush, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision going dark.

you came hard around his dick, sure leaving a ring of white around the base.

but minho’s thrusts became rougher and sloppier, as he chased his own. he was finally overstimulating you into oblivion and submission.

one of your hand gripped the chair’s arm tightly, the other gripping minho’s forearm, he gripped your chin so your head rested against his chest, your eyes facing him the best to your ability.

your body was in a position you didn’t know was possible, back arched so much, minho loved the sight in front of him.

he loved watching his dick disappear between your folds, your ass hitting perfectly against his hips.

with one last thrust, minho grunted, pulling out to leave his come on your backside. thick and warm, he breathed heavily, as if he ran a marathon. you nearly collapsed on the chair, but minho caught you to help you back to the bed, placing you on the bed.

he grabbed some wet wipes that were placed on a table in the room (next to the condoms you both ignored) and wiped his come off of you, and wiping between your thighs gently before he cleaned up himself.

“how, how am i supposed to walk out there like nothing happened?” you groaned out, struggling to sit up.

minho laughed, “you don’t, you do the walk of shame.”

“there was nothing shameful about that.” you grinned. “other than maybe fucking in a club.” you rolled on your back, laid out.

no time to rethink life choices or reminisce about what just happened.

you had to first put your clothes (and find your underwear), then think of how to exit while steady on your feet.

it wasn’t that you were in pain, but more so still over stimulated losing feeling in your legs.

“there’s an exit out back. you can tell your friends to pick you up there if you want to avoid lookers.”

you nodded. “best idea.”

minho, back dressed, cat ears still on, he walked out to find your friends. you quickly dressed, still not finding your underwear, but did your best to look presentable.

minho walked back to the private room. “they’ll meet you out back with a rideshare. is your place far?”

you shook your head, “we rented a hotel a block away. we live about 2 hours away from here.”

“different city to avoid people you may know?”

you nodded shyly. “yeah.”

minho walked closer to help you stand up, “kind of disappointing you live so far from me kitten. i would have loved to see you again.”

you felt hot, nearly blushing. “um, you don’t need to sweet talk me. you made me feel better and distract me.”

minho’s finger went to your chin, you lift your head up to look into his eyes, “kitten, if you think i do what i just did with you, with anyone, you’re mistaken.”

he kissed your lips tenderly. “why me?” you whispered.

minho shrugged. “honestly don’t know.” he smiled when you initiated a kiss this time. “promise to come see me, again?”

“mhm, maybe.” you teased. minho gripped your hips, and you chuckled, “okay, yes, i will.”

“good. especially since i know you’ll want your blue underwear back.”

#fanfiction #stray kids #lee minho smut #minho one shot #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee know #lee know oneshot #lee know drabble #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho #lee minho x reader #stray kids smut

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stayinlimbo · 11 months ago

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the world is ending (but i'm happy you're here with me)

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: one (1) swear, mc is mentioned to have longer hair at one point, slightly unedited, lowercase intended word count: 1.07k note: i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoy it too ♡

there comes a time in every girl’s life where the overwhelming urge to change her physical appearance eclipses all sensible and rational thought. as it turns out, you’re no exception.

“you’re going to laugh.”

“no i’m not.”

“you already are,” you deadpan, frowning at minho’s pitiful attempts to repress the growing smile quirking at his lips. your boyfriend has the audacity to chuckle at your words, pushing himself off the couch and gliding towards your stiff figure standing at the entrance of the living room.

“you can’t blame me, you look so cute and adorable right now,” he defends. an arm snakes around your shoulders and you relax slightly at his touch, wrapping your arms around his middle. “besides, it can’t be that bad—at least, not enough for you to have to hide from me.”

minho pulls you further into the warmth of his chest, the tender embrace sending a small shiver down your spine. his lips meet the side of your hooded head in a firm kiss, the extra pressure ensuring you would feel the loving gesture. the usual trail of kisses towards your forehead and cheeks is blocked, currently concealed by your (his) hoodie’s drawstrings working overtime to reveal only a small oval of skin.

the hood’s bunched fabric frames the top of your eyes and lips. you can barely see in front of you until one of minho’s fingers slips into the opening to try and take a peek at what’s covered inside.

minho is being nice; you look ridiculous.

and it’s your fault really. you should have known you couldn't escape your misfortunes that easily.

work for the past month has been hell: the road-closure of the usual route you’d take, tacking on an additional fifteen minutes to your commute. the early mornings you have to endure to clock-in on time. the “important” group project your boss delegated around the office. the unpaid overtime for said project. the same petty, passive-aggressive coworkers breathing down your neck and critiquing your every move because you made a mistake once—all casting insurmountable pressure on your already exhausted state.

you finally snapped when someone callously stole the lunch minho had prepared for you from the breakroom’s fridge.

you suppose now it was your brain’s attempt to regain some sort of control over the strenuous situation, but the impulse to cut your hair, try a new style, start fresh with your appearance bombarded every thought on the journey home. call it an impulsive thought, an intrusive thought, whatever—you needed to do something.

too bad the hair stylist couldn’t follow directions for shit.

“minho, i’m serious,” you whine, burying your face further into his chest. suffocating in the arms of the man you love doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. “she ruined my hair. how am i supposed to go out in public like this?”

“i can’t tell you if you haven’t even shown me yet. i’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he muses, chuckling at the vibrations tickling his torso from the muffled groan you release.

minho starts to sway the two of you back and forth at your silence. the rhythmic movement cradles you in a comforting hold, temporarily soothing your spiraling thoughts. he’s right; you’re going to have to show him at some point. might as well just get it over with now.

a defeated sigh escapes you. well, here goes nothing.

you step out of minho’s arms and pry the hood off to reveal your botched hair in all its glory.

uneven bangs, a completely different color than from when you left for work this morning, fall into your face and cover the top of your eyes. you can’t see yourself but judging from minho’s small hiss and surprised, contorted face, it’s not pretty.

and it’s not like you asked for anything outlandish: a standard cut and a new style of bangs was your definition of revamping your appearance. so when the stylist cut off a majority of your hair, it took everything within you to not immediately burst into tears as the salon’s floor and your lap splayed the once lengthy remains.

you don’t even know where she got the idea of bleaching your hair. now your wallet and soul are emptier than ever and there is nothing you can do except hope minho doesn’t ask you to turn around because the layers are downright atrocious.

“so? what do you think?” a wobbly smile makes its way onto your face. “not what you were expecting, right?”

you can’t help the tears welling into your eyes at his silence. he’s just…staring. certainly this can’t be the dealbreaker, right?

…right?

you’re saved from your inner turmoil when minho moves forward to carefully bring you back into his arms. the tears finally spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, the comforting scent of minho flooding your senses once again. if you could hide here forever, you would.

“it’ll grow back.”

“i know.”

“you still look sexy.” he pinches your side, coaxing a watery laugh from you. his smile is infectious, and you can’t help but tearfully look up at him with one of your own.

you playfully guide one of his hands towards the back of your damaged hair, leaving it there. “so you’re not breaking up with me over this?” you tease, resting your head back against his chest. you don’t notice the subtle shift in your boyfriend’s gaze until he softly calls your name.

“i would love you even if you were bald,” he confesses quietly, squeezing you tighter to him.

you can’t help but snort into his chest. “yeah?”

“yeah. i will love you now until it’s long again. i will love you with any hair cut, color, style, anything. even if you hate it or one day regret it, my love for you won’t change,” minho assures, his sincerity echoing in his words.

“so if i dyed my hair pink tomorrow, you’d be okay with it?”

“do what you want, whenever you want.”

because it doesn’t matter to him what you do with your hair. you’re still you, his beautiful and resilient (and sexy) girlfriend. even as his hands run through the chopped, disproportionate strands on the back of your head, he finds you more and more enchanting with each passing day.

“i will be here for you. always.”

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

(“i still have to go to work.”

“just wear a hat.”)

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

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gothgleek · 11 months ago

Text

How Many Licks? (Just Bite It)

Angus Tully x fem!reader

Summary: You work at the University’s mail room sorting packages and trying to keep yourself from boredom. However- not that you would ever admit it out loud- you look forward to Thursday afternoons when Angus Tully stops by.

Based on my post Dominic Sessa looking like he bites people.

Word Count: 1,900+

Notes: She/her pronouns, Afab reader, Christmas mention, biting, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, sex at the workplace, overstimulation, quickies, reader being a brat, calling each other ‘slut’, everyone involved is over the age of 18

Notes: Huge thank you to my friend, Mera for helping me come up with what to call Angus because there is no way I’m moaning that name either fictionally or irl. It’s like moaning ‘Ulysses’ or ‘Cornelius.’ Please be nice as this is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted on Tumblr and first ever reader insert I’ve ever written. I tried being as neutral as possible when describing physical features but please let me know if there is anything that takes you out. Specifically I tried saying bite marks instead of bruises because not all skin tones bruise easily but I’m sure I missed some.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕

Minors DNI

Your bright red stockings paired well with your wool black dress that hits you mid-thigh. You couldn’t see Angus from this angle, but you could feel his gaze rising up your legs and to the garter belt as you climbed the ladder. You knew he was a boob man but it was too cold for a v-neck dress. You put his package on the top shelf specifically so you could show off your legs when he arrived.

“Thanks, I got them Black Friday shopping.” You tell him, stepping down the ladder, his package on your hip. “Which is what I assume this is?” You shake the box in your hands. It’s not heavy but you can tell it’s packed to the brim.

“Hope so,” You hear him unwrap a lollipop and pop it in his mouth. You cringe as you hear him bite the lollipop.

You step off the ladder and tuck the box under your breasts, pushing them up more. “If you keep biting them, I’m going to start hiding them when you stop by.”

He smiles obnoxiously. “Then you would’ve hid them away by now.”

You roll your eyes, putting the box on the counter. “It’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s actually pretty tasty,” He smirked and took the used lollipop stick out of his mouth. “Wanna guess what flavor it is?” Angus sticks his artificially red tongue out.

“You’re such a slut.” You roll your eyes and shake your head.

---

The piles of new shipments kept the two of you hidden from the public eye as Angus got on his knees, pushing you against the wall. Your stockings had been quickly disposed of, tossed over his shoulder before you could say anything. His mouth was on your left knee, pressing a kiss as he opened your legs. One warm hand rests on your stomach, balancing himself.

He places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on your inner thigh, above your knee. He licked upwards and bit down, sucking on the flesh between his teeth. He mirrors his actions on your left thigh. You hissed, knowing (and loving) that it would leave marks.

“You smell fucking amazing,” He says against your skin, his big brown eyes looking up at you. Motivated by your scent, Angus’s kisses get sloppier and while his bites are quicker, it is no less painful as he moves upward your legs. You glanced at the entrance to the office, double checking you could freely respond to his actions.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” Angus said smirking, the cold air making your clit pulse. His thumb lightly moved over your lace covered pussy.

“Did you get jealous of the lollipop? The way I licked,” You jumped as his tongue touched your clit, the lace of your panties adding to the friction. “And bit?” His teeth graze against it.

“God, you’re such a dirty slut,” You tell him, only half teasing.

“And you’re a loud slut,” Angus teases and pushes your dress upwards. “Bite on this.”

You wordlessly accepted and clamp down on the polyester fabric. He slowly pulled down your red panties to show him your beautiful pussy. Since your lower half and most of your torso was visible, Angus greedily took in the sight of your bare stomach and underboob. He kisses your clit and spits on it. He traces his tongue over the sensitive nub and gives you slow, deliberate licks, creating a bigger mess between your thighs.

You let out muffled moans, your fingers tangled in his curly hair and grinding your hips for more friction. Angus once told you he would die a happy man if that meant being between your legs. Today is a good day to test that. You grip his hair, forcing his mouth to wrap around your clit, an action he responds to with a hum of approval. The vibrations make your hips roll and back arch. You can feel him laugh because he knows he has you where he wants you but you cannot care about that now. You hold his head there, pleading whimpers begging for more. Angus removes his hands from your pussy so he could grip your thighs for balance but makes no effort to loosen your grip.

Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take you long to reach your peak. Not when his mouth is making you feel so, so good. Your dress falls down as your mouth opens, a strangled cry echoing in the room, and your nails dig into his scalp as you cum. Angus keeps licking you as if you’re not melting around his mouth. As if your legs are not shaking in his hands from overstimulation. Eventually you cannot take it anymore and you have to push him away. Still, he licks up the mess you’ve created on your thighs before standing to face you with a satisfied smirk.

The intensity of your orgasm leaves you feeling dizzy so his hands stay on your hips as he rises. Though his face is painted with arrogance, Angus gently sits you on the table your boss reserved for processing packages. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses it to the side, impatiently but gently. Your nipples pebble because of the cold air and his lustful gaze.

Eyes never leaving yours, Angus unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock out. He pushed you against the table, kissing you at the same time. You wrap your arms around his neck as you taste his mouth- a combination of your pussy and his strawberry lollipop.

His hand gently pushed your thighs wider as his other hand slipped a finger between your entrance. His thumb gently rubbed your clit in exactly the way you taught him so you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your mouth. He slid another finger in and you gasped out a “Yes!” You rode his fingers, chasing your pleasure. Your moans ricocheting off the walls, not caring how slutty you acted.

But he cared.

Angus pulled away from your breast, not bothering to wipe away the string of spit connecting his lips to your breast. The hand on your thigh paused your movements and his fingers slowed.

“Tell me you’re my slut,” he smirked. You whined in response. “Come on, say it.”

He gently lays you back on the table and takes his shirt off. Angus turned around to see the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until your boss came back from lunch.

“Tick tock.” He said, emphasizing each word with the tap of his cock on your entrance. “Tick, tock.”

You had no doubt he would elongate this. Last time you pushed your luck, you weren’t caught, but you didn’t you cum either. Angus had the biggest shit eating grin when he came in the following day and you begged him to fuck you.

But you still weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

And he knew that.

“How does it feel to be a slut?” He murmured against your ear. Angus buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down and pulling satisfied moans out of your mouth. “To be my slut?”

“I’m not your slut,” You protested between your moans.

He stopped biting your neck to simply nip at it, moving downwards to your breasts. Your trembling fingers grabbed at the curls on the back of his head, encouraging him. Agnus took a nipple into his hot mouth causing your left hand to dig into his shoulder and your right hand to pull his hair. Angus let out a muffled moan of pleasure and sucked on your nipple harder. There was tension building in your stomach but you couldn’t release it until you were around him.

“Say it,” Angus said as he alternated between your breasts. “Say it and I’ll fuck you.”

“Fine! I’m a slut!” You cried. “I’m your slut! Now please! Fuck me!”

Angus chuckled and slid into you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His eyes fluttered as he felt your heat surround his cock. He stared down at you as he found his rhythm. his fingers finding your clit again. Angus’s fingers moved in the same rhythm as his hips.He moved his hips faster, forcing your back to arch off the desk. Moaning, you clenched around his cock.

Angus kept his pace but his mouth suctioned around your breast as his tongue swirled around your nipple faster. The hand not on your clit reached over to grab your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Keep going…” You whined, almost begging. The tension was reaching its peak. “So… close…”

Hearing you cry out, Angus pulled away from your beast and watched you fall apart.

He tried to fuck you through your orgasm but he couldn’t help but he wasn’t far behind you. Not when pleasure washed over your face. Not when you squeezed him like that. Not when your voice echoed like that in the small room. With a stuttering groan, Angus came inside your pussy while biting your shoulder.

Your legs loosened around his waist as your body relaxed but your pussy still clenched around his twitching cock, taking every drop of him. Angus’s body relaxed and his mouth loosened its grip on your shoulder. But you can feel his teeth scraping against your tender skin. He pressed gentle, open mouth kisses against your neck as he pulled out of you. You whimpered as he did that, already missing him inside you.

Tiredly and lazily, he kissed his way down your body until he got to his knees again. Angus spread your legs again, watching his cum dripping out of you and pooling on the table. You felt his mouth cover your pussy once again. Though tired, you couldn’t help but arch your back a little when you felt his tongue lap at your sensitive pussy, cleaning you. Angus pulled away before you could cum, though you are thankful he did as your body was not ready to accept another orgasm.

He helped you to your feet and kissed you gently on the mouth. You returned the kiss, leaning against him for balance. However, your orgasms still left you a little tired so you had to break the kiss to retain your balance. Not that Angus minded, he still kissed you, this time peppering them on your neck. Your hands loosely held his neck before you noticed the clock.

“Unless you have a turtleneck for me in that package, don’t you dare leave another hickey on my neck,” You told him as your wits came back to you and he laughed against your skin. He kissed your neck and went to his package on the counter.

“As a matter of fact,” He said, tearing it open and digging around, not caring he was still naked. “I do.”

He pulled out a knit black sweater with a thick, folded turtleneck. You accepted it and marveled at how soft it was.

“For me?” Your eyes were wide.

“Yeah, well, you always complain it’s cold down here, ” Angus shrugged nonchalantly but you could see color rising to his cheeks.

“Plus you know,” He brushed your hair off your shoulder. “It’ll hide those bite marks I left behind.”

You look down at your body to see a map of bite marks and bruises identical to his mouth and fingers. You snatched your new sweater from his hands and threw it on.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #angus tully imagine #angus tully smut #the holdovers #smut #fanfic #reader insert #mine #my fanfic

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604to647 · 1 year ago

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Safest with You (Ch. 7 - The Third Date)

5.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Din takes you to see a prize fight, and the evening does not end the way either of you expect.

Warnings: Fluff but also Angst, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, pretty girl, etc.), descriptions of blood splatter, mention of alcohol consumption, men (not Din) harassing reader at a bar, very poor description of boxing by a person who knows nothing about boxing (me.)

A/N: I'm...sorry about this 🫣 Our (first!) chapter with angst; oh my feelings - we will get through it together? For some levity, while I'm trying not to be too heavy handed with the Star Wars references, I did have a lot of fun plopping in some character names from The Mandalorian to make up Din's rag-tag group of mob enforcer friends. Picking a Hutt to insert was another story - I tried to pick a name that (exists and) fit into the scene, but I'm not married to it; if upon reading you think another Hutt family character's canon characteristics are more fitting, please let me know and I'll change it! Thanks and thanks as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“Ok, hang on, I gotta let Rory into the meeting.”

The mosaic on the screen shifts, and Rory appears in a new tile, “I can’t believe it’s a Saturday and I’m taking a Zoom meeting.”

“Stoppppp. It’s for the greater good – please help me pick an outfit,” you plead with an exaggerated pout.

“You never ask for fashion advice? We’re always asking you.”

“Ok, thank you for hyping me but for real I need help. I’m going to a boxing match!? Movies and pop culture tell me that every woman there is either wearing a bandage dress or a bikini and I’m not wearing either,” you step back to show off your bed that’s cover in heaps of clothing options.

You’re nervous. Not because of anything Din’s said or done, and not even because it’s the “third date” (not as if you and Din are following any type of out-dated dating script), but because you’re stepping into Din’s world tonight. So far, you and Din have been dating in a blissful little bubble, just the two of you (and Al!), but tonight, you were going to meet the people closest to him, his people. When you had confessed your nerves to Din earlier, he had affectionately told you he was proud to be bringing you as his date tonight; you didn’t want to let him down.

In the end, you and your friends opt for a white, off the shoulder silk shirt, loosely tucked into a silver skirt. The shoulder cut-out of the shirt drapes purposefully low down your arm, revealing the entire strap and more than a little of the top of your lacy black bra chosen especially for Din. There, you think, it’s not a bikini, but it’s sexy.

Din couldn’t agree more. Your little lingerie peek-a-boo is nearly all he can think about at the restaurant and the entire cab ride over to the fight venue. A few times during dinner he might have lost his train of thought mid-sentence, teased mercilessly by that small triangle of lace and the ample curve of your breast that isn’t contained within. You blush and smirk at his barely concealed drooling. Now in the cab, Din has his arm draped around you, and you let him absentmindedly toy with the exposed strap; periodically he slips a finger or two under the strap and slides it down as far as your innocent looking white shirt will allow, then back up again. You can feel your nipples harden against the soft lace, and by the time you step out of the cab, you’re flushed and your core is already fluttering.

You take Din’s arm and walk with him towards the entrance, still somewhat nervous; Din senses your hesitancy and not used to seeing you withdrawn in any way, he pulls you aside before you get to the main doorway.

Holding you close, one hand lingering on your lower back and the other cupping your face, he gives you a long, deep kiss, meant to be soothing. Opening your eyes and you murmur, “Just one more, please”.

“One more?”

“One more minute. One more kiss. While it’s still just the two of us,” you explain, wistfully.

“Pretty bird, we don’t have to go in. Just say the word and we’ll go somewhere just you and me. It can be just the two of us for as long as you’d like,” Din gently strokes your cheek with his thumb and gazes at you with sincerity brimming in his eyes.

Reaching up, you bring Din’s face down to yours and kiss him tenderly. You want to let him know you’re okay. You’re nervous, but also somewhat excited to see this world that’s such a big part of Din’s life, and the idea that he wants to include you and introduce you to his friends is actually so touching. You nuzzle into your favourite little nook right under his jaw, and whisper, “Let’s go in.”

Din takes your hand, and holding on tightly, leads you in to the building. It’s already insanely busy inside, filled with people here for the fight; as you thread through the crowd, even in the dim lighting, you hear lots of people shouting Din’s name – waving hello, clapping him on the shoulder as they go by. Din leads you through a side door away from the bustle and takes you down a quiet side corridor; you’re about to ask where you’re going when you see some people up ahead wearing “Mando’s Gym” gear. In the center of everything, there is an older gentleman in a colourful striped sweatsuit, and a young man, who is wearing baggy grey shorts and a loosely tied warm up robe; you recognize the younger man as Din’s sparring partner from the day you visit the gym after dropping your dry cleaning off at Peli’s. Din is greeted enthusiastically by both men with big hugs; he claps the younger man on the back and introduces you, then, his voice filling with pride, brags, “Pretty bird, this is Jimmy. Best middleweight division fighter this side of the bridge. One of Mando’s best. And our tireless chief, head coach, Greef Karga, the best of the best.”

You shake their hands happily, and they in turn seem happy to meet you as well; you think you spot them giving each other a knowing look, but it was so fleeting you’re not sure. Regardless, you enthusiastically wish them luck and let them know how excited you are to be here. When he hears it’s your first fight, Greef tells you you’re in for a treat and gives you some novice spectator pointers – in particular, he tells you to watch out for a move call the “Mando Roll”, a move made famous by Din during his career. Din hypes Jimmy up with some pep talk and some light combination drills before he takes your hand to go; you wave goodbye to the two men and wish them luck one last time before asking Din, “The Mando Roll, eh? Didn’t realize I was here with a celebrity.” You grin at him proudly, and Din’s chest puffs up a little but he responds humbly, “Nah. Don’t believe everything you hear about me here. Especially from Paz. Don’t believe a thing Paz says.”

As if on cue, you come upon the man himself, who seems to be waiting for you and Din so you can all walk to your third row seats together.

Paz is hilarious. He has a deep booming voice, and a boisterous spirit about him; he’s huge, bigger than Din, but in the same way you don’t find Din’s size to be imposing, neither do you find Paz’s. He regales you with childhood stories about Din and tells joke after joke, all the while pretending to ignore Din’s protests and looks of mortification that honestly make everything Paz says even funnier. He doesn’t forget to ask you questions about yourself, and your heart melts when Din chimes in to brag about you when he thinks you’re not doing so enough yourself; Paz looks impressed before he gives you a mock look of condescension, “You sure you’re with the right guy?” jabbing his thumb at Din. You look up at Din fondly and nod softly, “Yes, definitely.” Din can’t stop looking at you either, eyes filled with adoration and, if he’s being honest with himself, maybe love. When he pulls you in tightly, Paz gives him a look and nod of approval, which Din didn’t need, but finds himself appreciating nonetheless.

The lights dim and the fighters’ ring entrances begin; you cheer loudly with Din and Paz when Jimmy goes by, looking pumped and intimidating. The first few rounds of fighting go by in a blur; the fighters move with blinding fast speed, unleashing powerful punch after punch – it’s violent and graceful all at once. Both Din and Paz are pointing things out to you, teaching you boxing terminology and noting finer points on the bout that you definitely wouldn’t notice otherwise; when the bell dings signaling the end of a particularly intense round, Paz turns to you, “Did you see that last move, with the bob and weave? That’s the “Mando Roll”. Your boy invented that! It’s what’s going to win Jimmy this fight, you just watch.” You look at Din, who’s got a cocky smile on his face, even though he’s running his hand through his curls, bashfully. Your eyes shine with pride; you knew from the articles and awards at the gym and his apartment that Din had been a talented and successful fighter… but tonight you’re seeing for the first time that it was more than that. He’s an important figure in this community, a leader with a legacy… just like his dad. You make a mental note to share this thought with Din later; for now, you hope he can tell by the expression on your face how proud of him you are. And how proud you are to be here with him.

If you thought the excitement and intensity of the fight would die down a little in the later rounds, you were mistaken; if anything, the crowd gets rowdier and louder, amping the fighters up more, even though they have to be exhausted. Nearing the end of round 10, Jimmy gets the upper hand against his opponent, drilling him against the ropes before stepping back and delivering a knock out uppercut. This last punch happens as if in slow motion; Jimmy’s opponent’s feet leave the ground as the force from Jimmy’s glove propels him backwards, body twisting slightly before he falls to the ground unconscious. Before you’ve finished processing what you’re watching, you’re hit with the losing fighter's blood splatter. Most of it lands on the people sitting in the rows in front of you, but a fair amount lands on your shirt and you can feel a bit of it on your cheek. Instinctively, you touch it with your hand, accidently smearing it. Din looks at you in horror but gathers himself quickly to ask you with deep concern if you’re alright. You have to admit, you’re not sure how to feel, but you let him know you’re okay with a reassuring smile before asking him to point you in the direction of the restroom so you can clean up. In the restroom, the droplets that landed on your skin are easily and thoroughly cleaned off, but your shirt is a bit of a mess. The delicate silk is splattered in a big, almost Pollock-esque pattern; you decide to leave it as is, figuring you’ll probably just turn it into a bigger mess if you try to clean it here.

You get back to your seat as Jimmy is being declared the winner of the fight in the ring, and you’re glad to see that his opponent has regained consciousness and is standing up of his own accord. You cheer as Jimmy’s arm is raised as the victor, but notice that Din doesn’t appear to be joining in the reverie. In fact, he looks downright despondent. Taking his hand, you give him a soft, but quizzical look and mouth, “Everything okay?”

No. Everything was not okay. Din had seen a lot bloodshed in his life, hell, he had caused his fair share, but he's never become desensitized to the underlying violence. He was not prepared for that type of violence, bloody violence, to touch you. In the second before he had realized where the blood splatter had come from, all he saw was you covered in blood, and he had felt nothing but intense panic and fear. And maybe, a little voice in his head adds, guilt. Even now, he is reeling from those feelings. He doesn’t know how to articulate any of this, so instead he drops his eyes to your stained shirt and says sadly, “I’m sorry about the mess, pretty bird.”

Ducking a little so you’re now holding his gaze, you look softly at Din, somehow knowing he’s feeling more than he’s letting on; you kiss him warmly and whisper, “It’s okay. I’m okay,” before wrapping your arms around Din’s neck and pulling him down into you. You feel Din’s back muscles relax under your hands, as he presses you in tightly and just holds you for a minute. Behind your back, Din and Paz lock eyes; a look of understanding passes between the two men before Din closes his eyes and let’s himself melt into your embrace.

Now that the fight is over, most of the crowd moves, almost as one, to a bar across the street for the planned after party. Din’s mood seems to have lightened considerably; with his arm around your waist, he steers you through the crowd, shouting salutations to people he knows and sporadically introducing you to people as they come up to say hi. You don’t remember all the names, but they all seem to be people that have known Din from when he was a child, watched Din box during his glory days, are somehow associated with the gym, knew Din’s dad or some combination of the above. Even more memorable are some of the stories Din whispers in your ear when out of earshot of the person you just met (like the gym member who thought that the Mando’s locker rooms had a nude sauna. They don’t), and you’re glad that the faces are all kind of a blur because otherwise, you might never be able to face some of these people again. The entire bar erupts with cheers when Jimmy, Greef and some of the other team from Mando’s arrives; they head straight for Din and you give them your hearty congratulations once Din’s released them from his bear hugs. You assure Jimmy that you thoroughly enjoyed your first boxing match and you’re glad it was one of his; when Greef learns that you saw the “Mando Roll” he looks like a proud papa bear, of Jimmy or you, you’re not sure. Slowly, the entire friend group descends on your and Din’s location and you get a chance to meet them all. In addition to Paz, there’s Woves, Mayfeld, Bo, Koska, and a few younger boxers from the gym, Brian, Santos, and Iggy tonight. It’s a great group; everyone is welcoming and even appear eager to meet and get to know you. You dance with Din, laugh at Paz’s jokes and sip drinks with the group.

At a certain point, you need a bit of a breather, so you volunteer to go to the bar to get the next round of drinks for everyone. When you give your order to the bartender, you’re told it might take a while given the number of drinks; honestly, you don’t mind and happily take the opportunity to give your social battery a mini-charge, check your messages, and just take in your surroundings. You’ve missed a lot of messages and you’re about to dive into the group chat when you’re aware of someone standing directly in front of you. You look up; it’s a stranger, and not one you remember Din introducing you to earlier in the evening. He’s standing uncomfortably close to you, as if you’re already acquainted, which you most certainly are not. Once the stranger knows he has your attention, he lays on a thick, “Don’t think I’ve seen a pretty thing like you around here before.” You appraise the man in front of you; he’s okay looking but there’s something about his posture, his presence that’s just... slimy. Suddenly, you notice on either side of you his friends inching closer, flanking you, and they too seem to have a greasy, sluggish look about them. You almost sigh; their intent is so obvious, and all the more insidious for not trying to hide it well. Under different circumstances, you would be feeling at best, harassed, and at worst, panic, but with Din and his friends just a few steps away, you know you’re perfectly safe.

“You wouldn’t have. First time,” you give a thin smile, before making a gesture to show you need to check your phone now.

“Well let me and my friends show you a good time! We know everyone here.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a great group of hosts already,” and you point towards Din and his friends. The men take a look in the direction you’re pointing and seem to hesitate, but then carry on as if what you said is a but a mere inconvenience.

Din had been talking to Paz when he looks over and sees you being surrounded at the bar and hisses, “Fucking Hutts.” Paz looks over as well, “She looks like she can handle it.” And it’s true, you really do look like you’re fine (annoyed, but fine), but Din sighs, “Yeah, but she shouldn’t have to. Those guys are slime. She shouldn’t be anywhere near them.” Paz raises an eyebrow, “You wanna talk about what’s really bugging you? I saw you back there when she got blood on her. You worried she can’t handle being with a Mando?”

Din shakes his head; it’s not that. He is sure you can handle anything… but should you have to?

“You’re worried she’s too sweet for all this?” Paz gestures generally.

Sighing again, Din shoulders droop a little, “Maybe. She’s a good girl, you know?” That little voice in his head from earlier is nagging him with more insistence now, too good. He’s watching you, knowing you’d make eye contact with him if you needed help, but he really can’t stand you being so close to those assholes. You’re not even giving Gorga Hutt and his cronies a forced smile anymore; he sees your mouth make the words: “No, I’m sure. No, thank you” and he’s off, long strides reaching you with just a few steps. He walks right past the man standing stupidly close to you, and maintaining eye contact with him, says, “Hutt.” The man practically sneers back, “Mando,” as Din slides an arm protectively around your waist and turns to stare daggers at the 3 men who have now all lined up together. Luckily, at this moment, the bartender appears and slides over a tray with all your drinks, so you tug on Din’s arm, “Do you mind helping me carry these?” and like that, the two of you leave the three Hutt men before they can get another word in.

Everyone is thrilled to get their refills, and you take the opportunity to ask, “How come those guys back there called you guys “The Mandos”? Is it just because of the gym?”

Maybe you imagine it, but there seems to be moment of stalled silence where no one in the group speaks, before Bo pipes up and answers, “It was the name of our club when we were kids; the gym was like our clubhouse, so… look, we weren’t very creative kids, okay?” Everyone laughs, and Bo waves you over and starts telling you some of the shenanigans the group got into when they were young.

“You really didn’t let her know what she’s stepping into, brother,” Paz says quietly so only Din hears.

Din looks at Paz with something like regret. He’s doing a visual sweep of the room; it’s second nature to him in crowds like tonight’s, but it also serves to distract himself from the agitation of running into the Hutts. He looks around the room and sees a few men leering at you; not just the Hutts, although Gorga is still at the bar where you left him and looking over with a sour expression, but other unsavoury types that Din is no stranger to. Din can read the look he sees in their eyes: to folks like that, you were a mark. Prey. The voice in his head gets louder: You were a pretty bird and he had brought you into a den of hunters, and you didn’t even know.

Din’s so deep in his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice when a petite brunette breaks away from a group of girls hovering on the periphery of his friends and makes a beeline for you.

You’re in mid conversation with Bo, who you’re finding to be incredibly refreshing and interesting being a female body builder when you turn to put your empty glass down; however, turning back, you find a girl you haven’t met has wedged herself between you and Bo while you were faced away. The look on Bo’s face indicates she’s just as surprised you are.

“So you’re Din’s date.” This is stated more like a fact than a question.

“I guess I am,” you introduce yourself; the girl says her name is Vanessa and she’s giving you a smile but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, so you honestly can’t tell where this conversation is going.

“You know, so many of us girls have tried to lock Din down, maybe you’ll finally be the one to do it.”

Oh. Does Din have… groupies? “Oh!” you give a polite laugh, “I can honestly say that locking anyone down or having anyone lock me down, has not crossed my mind.”

“A couple of us girls have had a lot of fun trying,” she tilts her head in the direction of a group of girls that are hovering close by, “Din’s a total catch. One of the best I’ve ever had.”

Ah ha. This is new for you. All your life you’ve been a girl’s girl, and one thing about being a girl’s girl is to never let men be the cause for contention, but man oh man, this girl is definitely fishing hard for a reaction from you; you know what she wants, but it’s honestly not in you to give. Instead, you look at her with a sympathetic expression, “Oh I don’t doubt it. Din’s probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” It’s the truth and the best you can offer her.

She looks at you with disbelief before scampering off; Bo stifles a laugh before the two of you return to your conversation.

Din is starting to feel like he’s been away from you too long; then he knows he’s been away from you too long when Bo comes by and tells him about your little interlude with Vanessa. He immediately finds you; slipping his arms around you from behind, Din nuzzles your neck and murmurs, “Sorry, I’ve been neglectful, baby. Not leaving your side for the rest of the night, I promise.”

You turn in his arms and winding your arms around his waist, you happily press your mouth to his, “Don’t worry. I’ve been thoroughly entertained. I’ve been learning soooooooo much about you, Din.” Your eyes are twinkling.

Din should have known that you wouldn’t let Vanessa bother you; although he still feels like he has to address it. He presses his forehead to yours, “So… I heard you had a visitor.”

“Oh right. Vanessa,” you chuckle.

“Pretty bird, there’s nothing going on, I promise.”

You give Din a quick, reassuring kiss, “Oh, I know. I wasn’t bothered by what she said.”

“…but you were bothered?” Din pulls away to look at you, as if checking you over to make sure you were alright.

You tuck yourself under his chin and sigh, “It’s nothing really. Just... surprising? It’s been a really long time since someone, never mind someone I don’t even know, has gone out of their way to be intentionally mean to me.”

Din feels his chest constrict. Of course you would be perceptive enough to recognize casual cruelty when you saw it, and of course it would wound your tender heart, “I’m sorry, pretty bird. You don’t deserve that.”

You burrow deeper into his arms, “Thank you.”

“I still want to make sure you know, there isn’t anyone else. Only you, baby.”

“Okay,” you lift your face to his and invite him to kiss you. He melts into your lips, but can’t ignore the persistent voice in his head that’s only gotten louder over the course of the evening anymore.

---

In the cab on the way home, Din is quiet. You snuggle extra close to him and when he tightens his arm around you, you nuzzle your way into your nook and press light kisses to his neck.

Din looks down at you and his heart breaks a little at the sweet look you give him; he can’t help himself, and he kisses you, soft and long – he knows he shouldn’t with what he’s about to do, but he also knows this could very well be his last chance to kiss you and he can’t convince himself to pass it up.

He wonders how it could end like this – when he first saw you this evening, gorgeous and sexy as hell, teasing him with a peek at your black lace lingerie, he was sure tonight was the night he was finally going to take you upstairs and ruin you, not the night he was going to walk away.

But he had made up his mind before leaving the bar. Paz was right, you were too sweet for his world. Din had been busy trying to make sure that he deserved you, he hadn’t thought about if you deserved what he would bring into your life. You didn’t; you didn’t deserve to be on the periphery of violence, never knowing if it would touch you directly, you didn’t deserve to be in the company of lowlifes and scumbags that would take advantage of your kindness, and you certainly did not deserve to be the recipient of any nastiness simply for caring about him. How could he bring this kind of darkness into your life?

You’ve been the best thing to happen to him in a long time, and Din’s heart aches knowing these are some of the last moments he will get to spend with you. But when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the same shirt that was so inviting to him earlier with blood splatter that looks almost black in the night, it hardens his resolve.

You sigh deeply into the kisses, only breaking away and opening your eyes when the cab starts to slow down. Din pays for the cab and helps you out; as soon as he closes the door of the car and it drives away, you make to walk into the building. Tugging on his hand, you playfully ask, “Did you want to come up and get Al with me, or are you still pretending you don’t want to come up?” To your surprise, Din doesn’t budge from his spot on the sidewalk and drops your hand. He stuffs both hands in his pockets and can’t quite look at you when he says, “I don’t think I can come up.” You’re about to make a silly joke about it being the third date, when he continues, “…and I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

At first, you’re not sure you heard him correctly but then you see Din's face; while not quite facing you directly, you can see it looks downtrodden and tired, and you realize he's being serious. You forget how to breathe for a moment and you don’t know what to say. Didn’t you just have a fun night, full of promise? Hadn’t he kissed you the entire cab ride over? Weren’t the last two weeks of getting to know each other romantic and deliciously tension filled? You’re confused and you say the first ridiculous thing that comes to mind, “You don’t… want to... court me anymore?”

Din didn’t think his heart could hurt anymore, but the way you were looking at him, confused and upset, was proving him wrong. He shouldn’t have kissed you in the cab. It had been selfish. He knows he's been so selfish when it came to you, and that stops now. Din struggles to get the words out, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, tonight… I shouldn’t have taken you to the fight tonight. You don’t belong in a place like that. You showed up in a beautiful outfit and… fuck.” He’s getting flustered now, but he forces himself to press on, “…it’s ruined.” He gestures to the blood splatter on your shirt and hangs his head.

“It’s just a little blood, Din. It will come out. Nothing has been ruined, I promise,” you can see he’s distressed and you want to comfort him. You try making a little joke to lighten the mood, “I mean, I know you know a good dry cleaner.”

“It’s not right. It never should have happened! A girl like you doesn’t belong near any place like that.”

Oh. You only now come to the realization that perhaps you hadn’t been paying attention and Din didn’t have fun tonight. The date had been on his “turf”, so to speak, and around people he’s known a lot longer than he’s known you; maybe Din had had certain expectations on how the evening was supposed to go... expectations that you apparently didn’t meet. “Din, for the record… I had a lot of fun tonight. I didn’t realize I wasn’t fitting in; I’m sorry if the evening didn’t go the way you had wanted.” Now it’s you that can’t meet his eye.

“No, no, it’s not… it’s… fine. It was just clear to me tonight that we come from different worlds and… maybe it’s not a good fit. I’m sorry.”

You’re trying to swallow your feelings but they’re getting caught in your throat; you force yourself to say, “You don’t have to apologize. I thought… well… it doesn’t matter what I thought. But it was only our third date, Din – you’re entitled to feel that I’m not for you.” You’re trying so hard to appear calm and neutral despite your heart breaking, that you miss Din wincing at those words. “I guess I want to say that I’m still glad we met, Din. And, thank you. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me these past few weeks – all the food when I worked late, helping me walk the dog… the books. Really, thank you.” You pause, shrug a little, then hold onto your arms, trying to make yourself as small as you feel while delaying the next words for as long as you can, “Goodbye.”

Din nods, “Goodbye.”

You walk away, finally free to cry when you realize that you still have to walk the dog. Even though your tears are already spilling over, you turn around, “Din?” He’s still standing where he was, having not moved, but looks up when you call his name. Once you have Din’s attention, you look away; you can’t bear to see the expression on his face as he watches you cry. “I’m going to take Al for a walk. I’ll be back down in just a minute.” Your voice starts to break, “Is it okay if you’re not here when I do?”

“Of course.” Din turns and walks away from you. You don’t see his own eyes have welled up before you turn to go in.

Inside, you clip the dog up and give him a lot of kisses in the elevator. True to his word, Din is nowhere to be found when you get outside. Al looks around, excitedly; most likely for Din. Perhaps he can still smell him. You kneel down and say sadly to your dog, “He’s not here, baby. Turns out he didn’t quite like us as much as we liked him.” Al licks a few tears off your cheek as if to comfort you and then trots off to start sniffing a tree.

---

Din watches you with Al from a distance away, out of sight. He knew you were upset and he wanted to make sure you were safe, being out alone with your dog. But if he was being honest, it was a perfectly safe neighbourhood – he just simply wanted to look at you for as long as he could. He stays looking up at your apartment long after you’ve gone in, leaving only when your lights go out.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #modern au #no y/n #modern!din djarin

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sunflowergirl522 · 2 years ago

Text

The Other Wheeler 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader

Word Count: 4722

Series Masterlist

Sunday is your day off and also conveniently Waynes day off too. You had offered time and time again to Eddie the night before when he told you that you could find somewhere to go so that they can hangout without you in the way but he insisted you didn’t have to leave. You even asked Wayne himself when he got home, since you and Eddie had still been up, if he wanted you to leave so you wouldn’t be intruding on whatever time they normally have together. He had insisted you wouldn’t be intruding and that it would be nice to get to know his nephew's new friend.

So you woke up early this morning, ignoring Eddie’s complaints for you to just go back to sleep and dodging his body seeking arm, to head to the store to pick up stuff for breakfast, making sure to go out the porch door so as not to wake Wayne. You grabbed what seemed to be enough eggs, bacon, sausage, and bread to feed a small army before heading to checkout. The only thought going through your head being the want, the need, to show these two men how grateful you are for them allowing and accepting you into their space.

When you come back in through the porch door Eddie’s stretching and coming out of the bathroom. He jumps a bit at your entrance but is quick to take the bags out of your hands.

“What’s all this Princess?” His voice is full of sleep and it’s quite possibly one of the most attractive things you’ve ever heard.

“I’m gonna make you guys breakfast as a thank you.” You follow him into the kitchen looking into the living room area to see if Wayne is still asleep. “Should I wait until he wakes up?”

“Nah, Wayne can pretty much sleep through anything. I mean he’s used to living with me so you don’t even have to whisper.”

“Okay. Where do you keep your pans and spatulas and stuff?”

“Spatulas are in the holder in the corner there.” He points over his shoulder at the corner next to the fridge while bending down to open the bottom cabinets. “I’ll get a pan or two.”

“Do you have like a long skillet or something for the meat?”

“Yep coming right up Princess. If you need a bowl to whisk the eggs they’re in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

You reach up to grab one after getting both a whisk and a spatula. When you turn to face Eddie again he’s setting up the skillet and the pan for the eggs on the stove top built into the counter. You step around him to start unpacking the bags at the counter looking into the living room.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he grabs a pack of sausage from in front of you.

“Helping, you didn’t think I’d let you do all the work yourself did you?”

“Well yeah, I’m the one making the thank you breakfast, not you.”

“Fine I’ll just stand here and watch I guess.” He puts his hands up in surrender backing away from where he was dumping the sausage onto the skillet.

“Thank you.” You turn away from him to focus on the eggs waiting to be cracked and Eddie sneaks back into his previous position once you’re not paying attention to him anymore. “Now how do you like your eggs?”

When Wayne does wake up only about fifteen minutes after you start making breakfast it’s to the laughter coming from the kitchen. When he opens his eyes a smile forms on his face at the sight in front of him. Eddie’s standing at the stove, you next to him the two of you laughing as you try to push him away. Eddie’s smile reaches his eyes as he says something that Waynes still waking up ears don’t catch. He hasn’t seen his nephew this happy in a long time, even his music hasn’t been getting him quite this happy for the last month or so. He’s been in a bit of a rut and by the looks of it he’s starting to come out of it thanks to you.

“Seriously, Angel eyes cut it out!” You laugh while trying to push him away again.

“I'm not doing anything, what are you talking about?” Wayne stands and he can see Eddie rolling sausage and flipping bacon while staying rooted in place.

“What’s all this now?” You jump and let out a shocked gasp as Wayne speaks up.

“Y/n’s making us breakfast.”

“I’m trying to at least.” You shoot a look at Eddie before looking back over at his uncle. “We didn’t wake you up did we?”

“Nah I could sleep through a tornado and not wake up till I was in Oz. What’re you making?”

“Eggs, toast, and since I wasn’t sure what you guys liked more sausage and bacon. Eddie said you like your eggs scrambled so I just made a whole bunch but if you want I could make any other kind or even like an omelet or something.”

“Scrambled is perfect.”

“Perfect!” A smile forms on your face to match Waynes before realizing that Eddie’s moving the eggs around in the pan and jumping into action to stop him. “Eddie! I’m serious stop that.” You take the spatula from his hand and hip check him out of the way so you can take over.

Eddie lets you shove him out of the way this time so he can get the toast that just popped up out of the toaster. It’s the one job you’ve let him have cooking, mainly because you didn’t notice it until the first two pieces popped up and let it go because it kept him away from the meat. Really you appreciate him trying and wanting to help instead of just wanting to do it all himself almost as much as he appreciates you wanting to make both him and Wayne food. If you were home trying to make breakfast your mom would probably be shooing you out of the kitchen so she can take over so you’re happy to be welcome in his.

“Wayne, do you want sausage or bacon?” You ask him while grabbing one of the plates that Eddie got down for you. He’s quick to make his way into the kitchen to take it out of your hands.

“Don’t worry about that hun. You went through all the work of making this for us, we can serve ourselves.”

“Okay.” You back away moving to gently steer Eddie to stand next to his uncle to get food next. He grabs a plate forcing it in your hand and moves you in front of him, his hands gentle on your shoulders. Eddie shakes his head as you open your mouth to argue.

“You go first Princess, I have to get the show ready anyway.” With that he backs away and opens up the doors on their small tv stand to search for the right season.

“Eddie’s been watching The Waltons with me every Sunday since he got me the show.” It was a birthday gift to Wayne from Eddie because they watched it a lot when he was growing up. The minute he saw a bundle of every season for sale at Starcourt, before it went up in flames, he didn’t think twice before taking it up to the counter.

“That’s nice.”

As you sit on the couch watching The Waltons with Eddie and Wayne listening to the two of them talk to each other you can’t help but become nostalgic for when you, Nancy, and Mike would watch cartoons together. The three of you would pile on the floor in front of the tv instead of on the couches so you were as close as possible. The three of you had your favorites Nancy's being Scooby Doo Mike’s being Tom and Jerry and yours being The Muppet Show but you all enjoyed them and being around each other.

Later on, a little after lunch which had consisted of Wayne making sandwiches, there’s a knock on the door of the trailer. Wayne gets up to answer it, figuring it'll just be one of the kids Eddie’s friends with. But Eddie has a moment of confusion wondering who it could be because all his friends know that Sundays are his and Wayne’s day.

“Is Y/n here by chance?” The sound of your mom's voice has you standing up and stepping towards the door. Wayne moves out of your way so you can take his place in the doorway going to sit next to Eddie.

“Hi mom.” You step out shutting the door behind you so your conversation doesn’t interrupt their show.

“It’s time to come home honey.”

“Is he ready to go back to being civil?”

“I can’t promise anything, your father is…difficult. But we’ve had many conversations about things he shouldn’t say or do and he seems to be ready to apologize.” You know that when she says conversations she means fights, you’ve witnessed enough ‘conversations’ growing up to know that.

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Mike told me.” You glance around her at the car and find Mike sitting in the passenger's seat. He waves at you when he notices you looking at him. “Now why don’t you go get your stuff and come home with us?”

One of the things you love the most about your mom is she’s never been one to force you to do anything. Every time she’s come to get you to come home she’s always left it up to you and in the end that’s one of the reasons you always give in and go with her.

“Yeah, okay. But if he’s still being a dick I can’t promise I’ll stay.”

You don’t say that you mean you’ll move out and you don’t have to say it. She knows. Mike had gotten home Friday night and called his dad an asshole on his way to storming up to his room. Karen had followed him up after sending Ted a look to leave it be to find him sitting on his bed digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. She recognized the position immediately, it was how Mike’s tried to stop himself from crying or breaking down for years now. She shut the door behind her so no one would be able to listen in before sitting next to him and pulling him into a hug. It was then that he broke down over feeling like he doesn’t know you well anymore and brought up how you told him you’d move out now. That night they had their biggest fight in years.

“I understand. We’ll meet you back at the house, take your time saying bye.” She brings you into a tight hug before heading back to the car.

When you enter back into the trailer you send a smile Eddie’s and Wayne’s way before beelining towards Eddie’s room to get all your stuff together. It’s not long before he’s in the doorway watching you.

“I guess you’re going home?”

“Yeah, but we’ll see how long that actually lasts.” You roll your eyes as you zip the duffel up and standing. “She says he’s ready to be civil but as of Friday he still wasn’t ready to let me back in the house. I don’t really see him changing his mind so quickly.” You step past Eddie checking to make sure your toothbrush is in the side pouch as you speak. “Don’t worry though if I do have to leave again I’ll go bother Steve or Dustin so I’m not invading your space again for who knows how long.” Eddie opens his mouth to argue but Wayne beats him to it.

“You wouldn’t be invading our space kid. Whenever you need a place to stay you just come right over, you’ll always be welcome.” There’s something in the way he says it that has your eyes tearing up and you’re hugging him before you even realize you’re doing it. When you go to pull away ready to apologize for throwing yourself at him he holds you to him tighter in such a dad type of hug that you’re not used to you start to cry.

Eddie stands there shocked at Wayne hugging you. It’s not something his uncle does to just anyone and he doesn’t even really hug Eddie much anymore now that he’s an adult, an adult in high school but still an adult, and they’re both busy. The most he’s gotten recently have been quick side hugs.

“Sorry.” You murmur as you pull away, wiping your tears.

“It’s fine, no harm no foul. You don’t gotta apologize for your feelings.”

“Thank you, both of you, for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank us for something like this. But you’re welcome. Eddie, why don’t you walk your friend to her car.”

“Yeah, yeah alright.” He picks up your duffel that you dropped and grabs your hand as he passes by you. You wave back to Wayne as Eddie leads you out of the door. “You want the duffel in the back seat or the trunk?” You open the driver's door and unlock the rest of the car.

“Back seat is fine, thanks.” You stand in your open door while he tosses it in, not yet feeling ready to leave.

“Come here darlin’.” Eddie grabs your wrist and pulls you into a hug, you’re quick to wrap your arms around him feeling at home.

“What if I get home and I have to go straight out the door again Eddie?” You ask after a beat of silence in his arms.

“Then you’ll come straight back here and we’ll figure out your next steps. Whether that be when we start looking for your own place or how you’ll be able to get to the point of being civil with each other again.” You’ve discussed with Eddie a bit this weekend about how if you and your dad keep being at each other's necks you’ll just move out early, you’ve saved up enough for it. He’s all for it if it gets you away from how you’ve said he treats you, he even offered you the side of his bed and space in his closet if you needed it. “Wayne and I will be there for you okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, still not unwrapping yourself from the warmth of his embrace. His arms tighten around you in sensing you need a good hug right now.

You stand there wrapped up in his arms while you feel the worry slowly leak out of you. Eddie seemed to have the effect of making all the bad feelings you have go away, it was extremely comforting and something you’re going to miss being around all the time the moment you get in your car and drive away. So you postpone letting go until the chill in the air seeps into your bones and you start to feel bad for keeping Eddie out in the nippy end of September air.

“Get back to Wayne and your show.” You speak as you move away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Call when you get home and let us know how it went.”

“I will. Thank Wayne again for me alright?” He nods and you get in your car waving as you drive off.

When you park in front of your house you sit in your car for a solid fifteen minutes preparing yourself for anything you could be walking into. Whether it be an apology, a silent nod in acknowledgement, or another fight you wanted to be ready for it so in the worst case scenario you didn’t let him see how much it affected you. You’re really hoping it’ll just be the second option or some form of it. You turn from grabbing your bag from the backseat just in time to see the curtain to the living room window fluttering shut. As you’re heading up the walkway the door flies open and Mike’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a bear hug. You freeze for a second before securing your arms around him and reveling in getting a hug from your brother in what feels like the first time in forever.

“Sorry I told mom where you were.”

“It’s fine, she was gonna find me eventually anyway. What’s he been like this weekend?” You speak into his chest wondering to yourself just when exactly he sprung up like a weed.

“They’ve been fighting a lot, but today he’s been pretty quiet. I think she might’ve finally broken him down.” One thing you could always count on was your mom digging in and breaking him until he was forced to be compliant and civil with you.

“Does he know where I was?” You don’t care if he knows but you feel like if he knew you’d get a snide comment here and there considering his reaction to you just hanging out with Eddie.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him but Nancy or mom could’ve.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath in before backing out of Mike's hold. “How’s Holly?”

“She asked about you a few times.” You smile as you walk up to the door.

You adore your six year old sister, the only sibling who seemed to want anything to do with you until recently when Mike started being interested again. When you are home you dedicate what time you can to forming a bond with her. Sundays being your only day off of work usually means you take her out to do something whether that be going to a park, the library, or sometimes, rarely, even the movies. You’ve been a little bummed about missing out on this Sunday but being around Eddie and Wayne was a great distraction from it. Maybe now that you’re back you’ll still be able to take her out for a little bit.

You walk in the door with Mike hearing your mom moving around in the kitchen. You pass your dad in the living room where he’s sitting in his chair and reading his newspaper side eyeing him ready for him to say something but he doesn’t even look up. It’s not the best case scenario but it’s close enough.

“Hey mom.”

“I’m glad you’re home hun. I’m making your favorite for dinner to celebrate.” She pulls you into a side hug and you can’t help but smile.

“That sounds great. Where’s Holly? I was thinking I could take her to the park or something for a little since I’m home.”

“She wouldn’t stop crying and screaming about not going anywhere today so Nancy took her out.” Your smile falters a bit while you worry about her starting to want to spend time with Nancy instead of you now.

“Alright, I’m gonna go unpack. I'll be back down for dinner.” You place a kiss on your moms cheek before fixing the strap of your duffel and heading upstairs.

Once you’re in the safety of your room with the door shut you collapse onto your bed, bag left abandoned by the door. Your bed is so much comfier than Eddie’s but you find yourself missing the warmth that he provided. As you lay there debating whether to unpack or pick up the phone in your room and dial Eddie’s number to let him know you made it back okay you hear the front door open and Nancy’s voice stating that her and Holly were home drifts up the stairs and under the crack in your door. You’re quick to abandon both options and hurry to see your favorite little girl.

“There’s my Hollipop!” She yells your name in excitement as she runs into your arms just as you crouch down.

“You’re back?” Nancy asks as she looks over at you.

“Yep! Until further notice so you won’t have to miss me anymore Nancy pants.” She throws her head back and groans before heading into the kitchen. You miss the smile on her face as you turn immediately back to Holly.

“Where’d you go?” Holly looks up at you with her big blue eyes and you can’t help but be glad that you’re back home because it’s not like you can see Holly at school the way you see Mike and Nancy.

“I just stayed with a friend for a little bit, Pumpkin.” The one thing you’ve always been glad your father did was he never really blew up on you in front of Holly. She was always normally out of the house or in bed already. The last thing you wanted was Holly having to be around the yelling because you know how much it sucks from your years of listening to your parents fighting. “Where’d you go today?”

“We went to the park.”

“Did you have fun?” She nods and you pick her up, settling her on your hip so you can take her into the dining room where you’re sure Nancy is helping your mom set the table.

“But Nancy didn’t want to play with me.”

“She didn’t?”

“She sat the whole time with papers in front of her.” You roll your eyes knowing she probably paid more attention to her homework than her little sister but not wanting to judge her for it.

“Well next Sunday we’ll go to the park and I’ll play with you the whole time okay?” She nods enthusiastically beaming at you and you poke her nose before setting her down in her seat and turning to your mom. “Want me to go get Mike for dinner?”

“If you could.” You nod before heading back upstairs and knocking on his door.

“Come in!” You open his door leaning on its frame as you find him sitting on his bed the comic you got him earlier in the week in his hands

“Time for dinner Mikey Mouse.” He smiles when he looks up and sees you arms crossed with your own relaxed smile happy to see you happy at home even though he knows it probably won’t last long.

“Alright.” He closes the comic and swings his legs over the side of his bed to get up. “What’re we having again?” He swings his arm around your shoulders bringing you with him as he heads down the hallway.

“Four cheese pasta with chicken. Race you down, loser has to get food last.” You jab him in his side to give yourself a head start.

“You’re such a cheater!” Mike laughs giving you the headstart the same way you would give him it when the two of you were younger and you were still taller and faster than him. Ultimately because of that you beat him into the dining room sticking your tongue out at him as you skid to a stop a second before he can catch up to you. Your mom brings the food out to the table as the two of you take your seats, Mike opting to sit next to you instead of across from you this time.

“Ted! Dinners ready!” She calls for your father and you can hear the newspaper rustle before he comes into the dining room making his way across the room to his seat. Once your mom sits down he gets food first before it goes to Nancy and your mom who serves herself and Holly. After you pile the pasta onto your plate and start to hand the big bowl to Mike you mouth the word loser to him causing him to stick his tongue out at you in the same fashion you did not long ago. You expect your dad to say something about how much you scooped from the bowl like normal but he’s oddly silent.

“How was the rest of your week Y/n?”

“It was actually really good!” You pause eating to turn and answer your mom. “I passed the quizzes I’ve been studying for and they’re talking about making me a manager at the shop.” You shrug as if becoming a manager isn’t that big of a deal and look down at your pasta moving it around with your fork waiting for your dad to say something. When he’s still quiet you decide to keep going. “Eddie and I finished our project already even though it’s due in two weeks. There really wasn’t much else to do at his trailer after I’d get back from work.” You and Mike both look at your dad after you mention staying with Eddie, ready for whatever he has to say about it but he just continues to eat as if you haven’t said anything at all.

“That’s nice sweetie. Did the Munsons treat you well?”

“Oh yeah. Eddie’s nothing but a sweetheart and his uncle Wayne did nothing but treat me like a part of the family the whole time I was over.” Your dad scoffs but doesn’t say anything at your words and you finally understand what’s happening making you smile into your food. “How has the newspaper been Nance?” Nancy launches into what it was like in the newsroom this week and you get away with finishing your food without talking about yourself again the rest of dinner.

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice comes through the receiver after only the second ring.

“Hey Angel Eyes, I’m not interrupting yours and Waynes time am I? I can call back later if I am.”

“Of course you aren’t darlin’, we’ve been waiting for you to call.” You can practically hear his smile in his voice causing one of your own to appear on your face. “What took you so long, is everything alright?”

“Yeah everythings fine. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, by the time I was getting ready to Holly got home and I went to see her and then it was time for dinner.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. There’s nothing wrong with you waiting to call.” His words were more reassuring than he would ever know after what feels like a lifetime of apologizing and defending your choices and actions and you let out a small sigh leaning against your headboard. “Is your dad still being an asshole?”

“Yes but it’s tolerable. He does this thing after mom really gets on him about being civil where he just acts like I don’t exist and completely ignores everything I say or do. So that’s what he’s doing now.”

“Darlin’ that’s awful. Do you want to come back to the trailer?” The worry laced in his voice throws you off for a second not used to someone caring so much about you. And the way he says it like ignoring you is the worst thing a person could do causes your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s fine really. I’m used to it and really it’s like the best case scenario over here.” You pick at the fuzzies on your blanket as you speak and shrug even though Eddie can’t see you. “I’ll probably get like two weeks of him not causing any trouble or interacting with me out of this.”

You don’t dare bring up how it had originally started when you were younger as a way to punish you when you were still young enough to want his attention. Even though that fact wants to burst from your lips because one thing about Eddie Munson was he made you feel like you could tell him everything and anything. He made you feel safe for once in your life and you wish you were back at the trailer instead of the house where you only felt you could be yourself in the privacy of your room.

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with that at all. You deserve so much better than that being your best case scenario.” The way he’s so definitive when he says that has you tearing up.

“I’ll let you and Wayne get back to your show, I’ve got some homework that’s due Tuesday but wanna get a head start on because of work.”

“Alright I’ll see you tomorrow Princess.”

“See you tomorrow Eds.” The both of you hang up fighting the urge to tell the other I miss you.

Eddie Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @munsonswhore86 @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirling-4-ever @gaysludge @audhd-dragonaut @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar @goldylions @spacedoutdaydreamer @mushroomelephant @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriuslysmoking @toobsessedsstuff @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @spookyemorockbabe

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x wheeler!reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 1 year ago

Text

between the lines | interlude

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Interlude

“I think she wants you to sing to her!” Carlos exasperatedly requests me a lullaby. I’m sitting down on the floor in front of my floor length mirror, trying to do something nice with my hair. I'm getting ready for my first day back at work after a short lived summer break. My brother is on facetime, showing me my niece. “I swear, she was saying ‘tía’ a lot. I think she’s asking for the song.”

It’s August and I just got back to England. Getting drunk on Pinot Noir on as many Spanish islands as my money could afford was a goal I gracefully achieved over the break. Okay, maybe ‘gracefully’ is not the best word to describe my alcohol driven antics. But here I am, all pieces glued together, ready for another season.

This time last year I was a rookie in this League and by the end of the season I was having dinner dates with a Prem superstar.

None of that this time, tough. I've grown a year older since my birthday last week, and that means I’m only focusing on my career. For real this time. No more relapses, no more calls in the middle of the night.

So I sing Lucía a song and then I go to work.

“New year, new me, huh?” I point out as Melissa hugs me, she has a new hair color and is rocking a new makeup style.

“Isabella, it’s August.” Mel doesn't share my enthusiasm. “Also, I hate covering pre-season. I always end up making stupid decisions like going blonde or something.”

“What? You didn’t have fun in the US?” I’m still hugging her when I ask.

“Oh, shut up. Your insta stories didn’t help me either, you know?” Mel puts both hands on my shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “But you had fun, right? You’re feeling good?”

“Yeah, of course. Feeling good. I feel great.” I nod, mostly to myself. “I feel amazing…”

She agrees and continues to walk.

“I swear I wish I had forgotten most of these dudes' names.” She bites her lips looking menacingly into the horizon. I giggle, ashamed.

“I share the feeling.”

At lunch Mel ordered Japanese food and I just stared at the package for a full minute before deciding to eat.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” It’s the fourth or sixth time she said that to me, ever since she noticed something was off a couple months ago.

It was a Japanese restaurant but I almost didn’t notice at first, being too focused on something else. He wore a button up shirt and I felt like dying.

I remember saying something like:

“I don’t really like Portuguese food. Too many eggs. You guys put eggs in everything. Egg on the entrance, egg on the fish, for desert? Egg flavored cake. Francesinha is a sandwich with egg on top of it. That’s not where the egg is supposed to go, Rúben.”

And he laughed, he laughed at every joke I said. At the end of the night my jaw was hurting from how I smiled at him and I wondered if he felt the same.

It’s a double-edge sword, this whole falling in love thing. Even being the one saying goodbye, I still hurt like I was dumped by my first boyfriend at 16 all over again.

At first it was easy, everything can be a distraction if you try hard enough. But with time the thing I was trying so hard to hide became bigger and louder in my mind. The sound of the laughter, the clicking of the cutlery.

The realization that I chose this, standing outside of Wembley with a microphone in hand; over whatever that was.

This is fine, I’m great.

“How are you feeling about this season?” I question a random City fan outside the stadium.

“Good, yeah.” The lad shrugs.

“You guys already won everything, do you think the players-” I start, but he stops me.

“Nah, we didn’t win everything. There’s always more to win. We only got 3 out of 4 last season.” When he says that, I realize that around 20 meters away from me, in the distance, is the Manchester City bus. I walk faster.

The sound of wanting gets drowned out by a crowded pub and suddenly it's easier to breathe again and everything really is fine.

“Rice, rice, baby!” It’s Victor’s voice that gets a genuine laugh out of me. “I fucking love Wembley!”

We’re all meeting at the pub after the Community Shield game and the atmosphere is exactly like the first day back to school, but with a lot more beer involved.

“Please don’t tell me you have money on Arsenal winning the league.” Seb is sitting next to me, pointing his green bottle to Victor.

“I do. Yes, go ahead, laugh all you want.” Victor raises his voice, looking offended. “I’m not even being optimistic, mate, it’s just the plain truth.”

The entire table laughs and we almost can't hear when he continues. “They’re stronger this year, guys, hear me out.”

“You’re right to be confident, but personally I’m not putting money on Mikel.” Mel says.

I bite my tongue when they ask my opinion.

“I’m being a hundred percent professional this year, no betting, no guessing, just straight analyzing.” The table booed me and I raised my hands in the air, in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t even want to be here. I wish I was in Australia right now.”

“Don't remind me!” Mel sighs and lightly slaps me. “We’re literally the only women not covering the World Cup right now.”

“No whining! Come on, let’s toast.” Seb raises his bottle once again, but this time we all follow. “To a busy and long season!”

And we all repeat: “To a busy and long season!”

#ruben dias #between the lines #football fic #football fanfic #ruben dias fic #rúben dias #ruben dias fanfic

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rjalker · 3 months ago

Text

29,301 words

Might still be some typos hiding in there, let me know if you find them. It's in a shareable state at this point.

The Mad Monster 1942, novelized.

The sun had set over the marsh, and a howl of a single coyote rang out through the mist in three short, high cries.

Inside the old and almost forgotten Danfield mansion, one room on the ground floor had been recently converted into a laboratory for Doctor Lorenzo Cameron, who had rented the secluded house so that he could conduct his experiments away from prying eyes. He had lined the walls with thick stone to protect the wood from his chemicals, and had installed many electrical switches that controlled the entrances and exits.

In a metal cage too small for the animal to easily stand or turn around, with barely space to move, there was another coyote, sitting miserably, chained in place. It was probably related in some way to the one that howled outside, alone, but there was no way to know for sure.

On one of its forelegs, there was medical tubing taped into place, drawing blood out of the animal, out of the cage, and down into a mysterious mechanical device sitting on a nearby table. The device was large and dark, with the top covered in tubes and dials whose true purpose only Doctor Cameron knew. Anyone could look at it and assume that it was used for filtering blood into its different components, but it really did much, much more than that.

The Doctor himself stood just to the side of this device of his, looking down at it in silent, self-satisfied thought, absently but firmly rubbing the knuckles of one hand with the other, as though the joints were causing him pain.

Doctor Cameron is no longer a young man; he was in his late fifties, and it showed. His hair was very light colored and was starting to bald at the front, though his eyebrows remained as dark as in his youth. His white skin was pale, like one who rarely stands under the sun, and he still wore a full suit and tie, despite the late hour.

Looking away from his mysterious device, he saw his servant and gardener, Petro, whose last name he never did bother to remember, lying, as biddable as ever, on the new and sturdy chaise lounge that Doctor Cameron had converted to suit his needs.

The sturdy cloth straps were firmly secured over Petro’s arms, torso, and legs, with his hands separately confined in thick leather cuffs. He was pinned in place, so that only with great effort could he barely lift his shoulders and head off the raised surface below him, if he decided to try it, which he rarely did.

He wasn’t trying to sit up now, he was just lying back against the raised end of the couch, looking over at Doctor Cameron silently, then looking towards the caged coyote, which opened its mouth so wide it seemed like an impossible feat, then gave vent to a high-pitched, almost inaudibly breathy howl.

Doctor Cameron, following Petro’s gaze, grinned at the caged animal, and spoke to it with a laugh: “Yes, I know you’d like to join your brothers outside and howl at the moon, but you’re serving a much better purpose.” He smirked, “Yes, you’re serving science, though me.”

The coyote stood as far as it could manage in the too-small cage, its tail sticking out through the thin bars at the back, and howled almost desperately, thrusting its nose into the top bars of the cage like it was trying to break through them.

Doctor Cameron had no response to this, and just went over to the machine the coyote was unwillingly offering up its blood to, and began unscrewing a mechanism that held a large glass vial, filled with the blood of the coyote, in place.

Carefully lifting the jar free after a few moments, he took it to the other corner of the small lab, closer to the door that led to the rest of the house, where various smoking and steaming vials, beakers, and other scientific apparatus were busy bubbling and measuring away.

Behind him, still silent, still strapped down, Petro, the gardener, continued to lie quietly and without complaint, just watching.

Petro was a younger man than Doctor Cameron by more than a decade, with a full head of thick black hair, and his white skin tanned from working out under the sun. He wore dirty denim overalls overtop a likewise dirt-stained white shirt. These were the same clothes he’d been working in that day, and he hadn’t been given the time to change out of them yet, though the workday was over with the setting of the sun.

At his crowded front shelves, Doctor Cameron took the lid off one vial, picked up another from the workbench, and slowly began to pour one into the other, keeping careful eye on the measurements.

Petro began to fidget uncomfortably, but still made no vocal complaint. He looked at the stone wall next to him, and started to lift his hands, then dropped them abruptly, as though the restraints weighed heavily. He fidgeted with his fingers on the cloth of his overalls, and looked over at the coyote again, which had stood again despite the cramped space, twisting to keep itself facing Doctor Cameron, its ears partially pinned back like an angry house cat, growling out of its wide open mouth.

Doctor Cameron barely spared it a glance over his shoulder, then hefted what he held in his hands, and walked back to stand over Petro, who could now see that the Doctor was holding a familiar large syringe in his hand.

Doctor Cameron looked down at him as Petro looked up, and he asked, “Are you quite comfortable, Petro?”

Petro said only, “Sure, Doctor.”

Doctor Cameron continued to look down at him, as though he couldn’t quite believe the answer he’d been offered, and asked, “You’re not afraid?”

Petro only continued to look up at him, and said, as though it were obvious, “I ain’t got no reason to be afraid.”

This procedure had been performed many times now, with no ill-effects, and Petro liked Doctor Cameron. He’d given him a job as a gardener, and let him live in a room in this big old house.

Doctor Cameron smiled, and said, “That’s right, Petro. There’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all.” He leaned down, and began rolling up Petro’s sleeve to inject him with the serum contained in that large syringe.

Behind them in the cage, the coyote, once again turned to always keep Doctor Cameron in its sights, howled again, shoving its face into the top bars of the cage again like it was trying to break through the hard wires. It did it once, the howl ending in a hiccuping-like warble as the needle held by Doctor Cameron bit into flesh, then began again, and ended it suddenly as the spent needle was removed from Petro’s arm.

Doctor Cameron stood, and smiled down at Petro, slightly leaning over still. “There, does that hurt?” He asked.

Petro smiled up at him reassuringly. “No, felt just like a pinch.” Then his expression showed a bit of dismay, and he lifted his hands as far as he could, asking beseechingly, “How come I have to have these straps on, Doc?”

Doctor Cameron said, “Well, you see, Petro, I’m trying a new formula. I wouldn’t want you to make a sudden move and fall off the couch.”

Petro looked down the length of his immobilized body, as though measuring the chances of that happening. His eyelids began to grow heavy, though, and he barely heard as Doctor Cameron continued, “Now, don’t worry. It will only be for a little while.”

Petro visibly struggled to keep his eyes open for a few seconds where neither spoke, and, with barely contained glee, Doctor Cameron asked, “How do you feel now?”

Petro looked up at him blearily, and answered, “I feel like I always did when you stick me with that thing — I’m kind of sleepy.” He did not see the look of restrained excitement on Doctor Cameron’s face as he trailed off, falling slowly back onto the cushion, “...Sleep... now…”

“That’s right…” Doctor Cameron urged in a whisper, “Go to sleep.”

Petro let out a deep sigh as he visibly fell into unconsciousness, and Doctor Cameron finally stood up straight again, his lips in a tight smile, one hand mindlessly tracing the cool metal loops on the syringe’s plunger.

He stared intently at Petro’s unconscious face, and saw his eyes open and close a few times, as though he were trying to wake up again, before he fell completely still.

And then the change began.

In front of Doctor Cameron’s wide, exulted eyes, Petro began to change. The dark hair on his head grew longer with startling rapidity, and as it did it turned paler, going from black to the tan of rawhide. The exact shade of tan as the caged coyote. It formed a short but thick mane on the top of his head, which grew all the way out to the brow above his eyes, and then began to sprout from his cheeks in thick coarse bristles, framing his eyes, nose, and mouth. His large chin almost seemed to melt away as it receded into shadow, leaving his mouth seeming almost distended — almost, thought Doctor Cameron, almost muzzle-like!

In the cage, the coyote was growling continuously now, ears pinned almost flat, its tail tucked between its legs as it attempted to crouch into a defensive posture, but was forced to remain in an awkward half-way pose by the restricting bars of the cage.

Doctor Cameron’s breathing was speeding as he stared down at the long sought results of his experiments, eyes wide in elation.

The half man, half beast creature below him began to stir, the jaw working, unconsciously grinding the teeth still hidden behind those closed lips.

The coyote behind them snarled in terror, thrusting itself forward against the bars of the cage in an attempted mock-charge, helpless to do anything else. But Doctor Cameron paid it no mind. He had delighted eyes only for the transformed face of Petro below him.

But slowly, as though it pained him to do it, he turned away and crossed to the center of the room, leaning forward with his knuckles on the dark surface of a still-uncluttered table.

Unable to contain his glee anymore, he began speaking as though he were in a lecture hall, imagining that his most hated academic rivals were sitting in the empty chairs arranged around the table.

“Gentlemen,” He said to his imagination, “I wish you were here to see the proof of my claim that the transfusion of blood between different species is possible!” He stopped to smile to himself for a moment, and then continued orating to his imaginary audience, looking over at the restraining table as though to indicate Petro to those who weren’t there. “A few moments ago, Petro was a man —”

He was so energized, he slapped one hand against the table for emphasis, and then continued, “A harmless, good-natured man!” He lifted his hand and turned to gesture towards the transformed Petro for his imaginary audience. “Look at him now!"

He looked over himself, and saw that Petro was beginning to regain consciousnesses — slowly, eyes twitching and face moving. Then, as Doctor Cameron watched, Petro opened his eyes with what looked like superme effort, and turned his head to look back at Doctor Cameron. His lips lifted away from his teeth as an animalistic growl broke through the now-bared and inhumanely long and sharp fangs.

Petro began to struggle futiley with his bonds, and in the wire cage, the coyote snarled a warning.

Doctor Cameron paid neither of them any more mind, simply turning back and leaned toward the empty chairs around the empty table, continuing his speech to the air triumphantly: “He’s no longer human — he’s a wolf; snarling, ferocious, lusting for the kill!” As he spoke, he turned his head back and forth, imagining he were looking his enemies in the eyes one at a time as he proved them wrong. “You are looking at a scientific miracle, gentlemen.”

But he knew that if the men who’d run him out of academia were really in front of him, he wouldn’t be allowed to continue on like this without criticism, and he frowned, imagining what they would say.

His gaze zeroed in on the chair he’d been imagining Professor Blaine, an older white man with even less hair than he had, hands folded severely in front of him, in a black suit, staring skeptically out of the corner of his eye, as though he couldn’t even deign to turn his full gaze on Doctor Cameron.

“You’re a mad man, Cameron, your claim is ridiculous.” The older man was imagine to say, and Doctor Cameron even pictured him turning his face away in disgust.

“That’s exactly what you said to the newspapers, isn’t it, Professor Blaine?” Doctor Cameron replied in a dangerous, low voice. He put one hand on his chest, leaning forward for emphasis, allowing some of his pain to enter his voice. “That I was a mad man, not fit to occupy a science chair at the university!” He lowered his hand, growing angry again. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind one day soon, when Petro tears at your throat!”

The imaginary Professor Blaine stared back sternly, saying only, dismissively, “Poppycock.”

*Doctor Cameron grinned maliciously, and gestured towards Petro again. “But look!” He imagined Professor Blaine trying to ignore him at first, then being forced to turn and follow his command, looking over his shoulder at the struggling werecoyote — or werewolf, as Doctor Cameron, who had never seen a wolf in his life, and assumed the coyote he had locked in the tiny cage was one, thought — that was fighting to break free of his bonds, able to sit almost upright now, and moving the whole couch with his efforts.

“Even now, he’d like to be at his work!” Doctor Cameron crowed, then turned proudly back to address the others he was imagining. “My catalytic agent has brought about a complete transition from man, to wolf!”

He imagined another of his enemies sitting in the empty chair opposite Professor Blaine. Another old white man, with balding head, wrinkles under his eyes, and a grey suit, hands folded on the table in front of him. This man glared up at Doctor Cameron and said, “Your crazy experiments are a disgrace to science!”

Doctor Cameron glared daggers. “Yes,” he said slowly, “Those are the very words you used in denouncing me to the faculty, Professor Fitzgerald.” He spat the name like it was venom, then said scornfully, “Science. What do you know about science? You with your high-browed associates and shriveled mind that refuses to recognize progress?”

A third figure faded into his mind’s eyes at the table, this time a man with thin hair as white as snow, with a pair of silver glasses perched on his nose, wearing a striped suit and a spotted tie. This man leaned forward indignantly to ask, “What does progress have to do with your foolish tampering with nature?”

Doctor Cameron stood straight. “I’m glad you asked that question, Professor Hatfield. You also were one of those stupid fools who raised their voices against me.” He paused, then said severely, “You’re aware of course that this country is at war, and our armed forces are locked in combat with a savage horde that fights with fanatical fury.” He almost bared his own teeth in his anger. “Well, that fanatical fury will avail them nothing when I place my new serum at the disposal of the War Department. Just picture, gentlemen —” He swung his head to glare back at the imaginary Proffessors Fitzgerald and Blaine before turning back to Professor Hatfield. “— An army of wolf-men.” He imagine that Professor Hatfield would be shocked by this, shocked enough to turn and look at the still snarling Petro. Professor Fitzgerald would look grave and worried as Doctor Cameron continued triumphantly, eyes wide, “Fearless, raging — every man a snarling animal! My serum will make it possible to unloose millions of such animal men! Men who are governed by one collective thought: the animal lust to kill, without regard for personal safety!” He brought one hand to his chest to emphasize the beating of a fearful heart. “Such an army will be invisible, gentlemen! Such an army will sweep everything before it!”

A fourth phantom from his imagination appeared in the last chair that sat empty in front of the caged coyote. Another white haired old man, in a black suit, holding a wooden cane in one hand and tapping it on the floor in disapproval and disbelief. “Your scheme is too utterly fantastic, Doctor. Cameron.” He was imagined to say. Behind this nonexistant figure, the coyote had sat down in its cage, and had finally gone quiet. There was not enough room for it to stretch out to lie down.

Doctor Cameron said to no one but his imagination, “You’re fools, all of you, four blind fools, especially you, Doctor Warwick.”

“Assuming that what you say is true,” He imagined Professor Hatfield interjecting, “How would you control these wolf-men?”

Doctor Cameron leaned forward against the table with confidence. “I’ve perfected an antidote, it induces a return of immediate normalcy.”

The imagined Doctor Warwick said, leaning back in the chair with heavy sarcasm as one glaring flaw in his stated plan came to Doctor Cameron's mind, which he knew his enemies would pick apart. He almost couldn't help but imagine Doctor Warwick saying, “And I suppose that-eh, it would be an easy matter to round up a million wild animals and administer an antidote?” He shook his head with open amusement. “No, Cameron, you’re mad. Stark, raving mad! And I, for one, am in favor of—”

“Silence!” Doctor Cameron cut off the rest of the sentence with a raised hand, not wanting to acknowledge his own awareness that his plan would lead to disaster. He still had grievances to vent. “I’m not interested in your imbecilic mouthings. You’ve all of you demonstrated your lack of vision by demanding my resignation from the faculty. Well, you accomplished your purpose. You’ve cast me out, you’ve robbed me of everything I held most dear in life!” He put his hand to his heart again. “Position, honor, respect! You branded me as a madman, held me up to ridicule before the whole world!” He put his hand back on the table again, leaning forward more. “But now it’s time for my revenge!” He could not hold back his grin. “Petro will see to that; now you shall pay for your folly, there’s no escape for any of you, you shall die, one by one, at the hands of the scientific marvel that you scoffed at!”

Then the apparitions each gave a single rejoinder in the order that he’d imagined their appearance:

“You can’t intimidate us with fantastic threats.” Professor Blaine said.

This was almost immediately followed by Prof Fitzgerald’s angry, “You’re a faker, Cameron, a mad faker!”

“Well have you ostracized by every scientist in the country.” Put in Professor Hatfield.

“There are institutions for mad men,” Said Doctor Warwick, “And we’ll see that you’re confined in one.”

Then, as one, they faded away. For a few moments Doctor Cameron stood at the table still, looking at the empty seats as though waiting for any more responses from his imagination. Then he straightened, and stood in silence for a while, then said, quietly, a threat and a promise, “You will see, gentlemen. You will see.”

A new burst of snarling from the transformed Petro drew his gaze back to the results of his long experiments, right as the werecoyote’s thrashing finally enabled him to break the straps holding his legs in place.

Wasting no time in panicking, Doctor Cameron quickly strode to his second wall of shelves of jars and vials at the back of the room, then turned to the smaller shelf on the side, and grabbed a small container from the top shelf.

Glancing repeatedly over at the werecoyote that was slowly breaking free, he filled a syringe from the small jar. When it was full, he strode over to the couch, griped one of the werecoyote’s arms for balance, and leaned over him entirely, placing one knee on his chest to hold him still as he raised the needle to administer the antidote.

Outside, far away in the marsh where Doctor Cameron couldn’t hear it, that lone coyote howled again, pacing fitfully in the mist in the palms and hanging moss. It almost seemed like it was looking for something or someone — maybe the coyote that Doctor Cameron had locked away in his laboratory.

The antidote was injected, and the werecoyote fell limp almost instantly.

Doctor Cameron removed his knee from the werecoyote's chest and stepped back, watching as the transformation began to reverse itself. The strong chin came back, the tawny hair on the cheeks and forehead began to fade away like it’d never existed, shrinking back into the skin rather than falling off. It was only a few moments before the familiar face of Petro was back as though nothing had happened, and he began to awake almost immediately, his jaw working and his eyes opening slowly.

When he opened his eyes successfully, he seemed confused, and frowned up at the ceiling.

Doctor Cameron quickly undid what remained of the restraints before Petro became fully awake. It would be very awkward if he had to explain how some of them had been broken. When they were all out of the way, he stood up straight again, almost breathless with excitement.

Petro sat up gratefully when the straps were removed, looking up at Doctor Cameron. “Thank you, Doctor.” He said, then asked, “How long have I been asleep?”

Doctor Cameron answered smoothly, “Oh, about an hour, I should say. How do you feel?”

Still sitting on the couch and looking up at the Doctor, Petro said, “I got a terrible headache, and I had kind of an awful dream. I was running the countryside, chasing people, and trying to kill them. What’s that mean, Doc?”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean anything, you had a nightmare, that’s all.” Doctor Cameron said simply, but inside he thrilled at this information.

“But why should I be trying to kill people?” Petro persisted, “Even in my dreams, I ain’t got nothing against nobody.”

Doctor Cameron gave up on trying to reassure him, and just said abruptly, “Well let’s not talk about it any more. Go to bed, our work is done for tonight.”

Petro stood at his urging, and seemed surprised when Doctor Cameron took him by one arm to lead him out of the lab. “Alright,” He said.

One of the reasons Doctor Cameron had chosen Petro as his test subject was that he was so easy to cow into submission. Petro didn't like to upset people, and would go along with almost anything as long as Doctor Cameron were stern and commanding enough to demand it.

The low, reinforced door leading to the rest of the house was wired to a switch on the wall, which Doctor Cameron lifted to send it swinging automatically outward.

Petro stepped through first, and out into a richly decorated room with a high ceiling. Behind him, Doctor Cameron used the outer switch for the door to start is slowly closing behind him as he went forward to take Petro’s arm again to lead him out of the room. The door behind them closed by itself, silently carrying the weight of the cabinet attached to its front back into place against the wall, making it appear as though there were no door or laboratory at all.

Doctor Cameron only let go of Petro’s arm again when they’d crossed the short room to the ceiling-height doors on the other side, when he had to get out the key to unlock them. For the length of the short walk, Petro’s head turned in every direction, as though he were trying to look at all of the expensive and amazing furniture and decorations in the study room at the same time. But Doctor Cameron did not let him stop to look at anything.

Once the tall doors were open, Petro went through obediently, making no attempt to stay and look around. When he was through, Doctor Cameron turned the lights in the room down, and went out the door himself, shutting it firmly behind him.

Right as he entered the hall leading to the front door of the house, his daughter, Lenora, came down the stairs, stopping in front of Petro. She was wearing a black blouse and skirt, with stockings and heels. Her hair was in a styled bun above her forehead, and curled behind her neck. In one hand she held a book. She was twenty-seven years old, still unmarried, and the only other occupant of the large house besides Petro and her father.

“Evening, Miss Lenora.” Petro greeted her, smiling down at her. He stood a head taller than her.

“Good evening, Petro.” She replied in a friendly tone, then turned to her father, “Well, night owl, I was just coming down to find out how much longer you were going to work.” She raised her eyebrows. “You realize how late it is?”

Petro had a smile on his face the whole time she was speaking, and only looked away from her to watch Doctor Cameron as he replied, pulling his sleeve away from his watch as though he hadn’t checked the time until now, “No I didn’t, I was absorbed in my work.”

Proudly, Petro said to her, “Oh, we done a lot of work, and I had the awfullest dream, I—”

“Go to bed, Petro!” Doctor Cameron snapped abruptly, pulling himself upright and glaring, his hands behind his back.

Lenora had been smiling as Petro spoke, but now her face fell as she stared at her father in confusion.

Petro turned to look at him, abashed, and said, “Yes, Doctor.” Then turning back to Lenora, “Good night, Miss Lenora.”

“Good night, Petro.” She said, staring up at him with worry as he walked away. When he’d gone past her, she stepped closer to her father, holding her book to her chest as she asked, “Dad, what kind of experiments are you doing that you need Petro?”

“Oh, he just, helps in the laboratory, moving the heavy things around.” Her father lied, refusing to meet her eyes and instead watching Petro’s retreating back. “He’s a very strong man, Petro.”

Lenora suddenly changed the subject — This was the real reason she’d come to find him, and the first question had only been a spur of the moment distraction. “How much longer are we going to be here, dad?”

Annoyed now, Doctor Cameron replied only, waspishly, “Why?”

She glanced for a moment up at the ceiling as she said, “Because the place gets on my nerves. I hate it.”

Doctor Cameron was unperturbed. “Your hating it has nothing to do with being separated from that young reporter friend of yours, has it?”

Undaunted, Lenora smiled challengingly, and replied, “It has, and I want to know when we’re going back to the city.” She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips beseechingly.

“Very soon now, dear,” Doctor Cameron began, putting one arm on her shoulder, “My work is practically finished—”

Almost before he could finish the last word, the coyote locked away in the laboratory howled, and the sound was muffled by the closed door and the thick stone walls of the laboratory, but it still carried through the large house, like the wail of a ghost.

Lenora looked around in alarm, pulling her book to her chest as her father dropped his hand from her shoulder. The sound seemed as though it were coming from everywhere at once. “What was that?” she demanded.

Caught off guard, Doctor Cameron could think of no immediate excuse, and the first thing that came out of his thoughtless mouth was a ludicrous, “What?” As though it were remotely possible that he had failed to hear the sound.

Lenora stared at him with all the disbelief that question warranted. “Well, that noise! It sounded like a wild animal calling! I heard the same thing last night.” Another nervous glance toward the ceiling as she spoke, as though the animal were somewhere on a floor above them, waiting to prowl down the stairs.

“Oh, that’s, probably some dog in the neighborhood.” Doctor Cameron said, trying to brush off the whole thing. “Dogs do howl, you know." There was some condescension in his tone. "You mustn’t let things like that upset you. Now come along, dear, even scientists need some sleep.” He reached out and put a hand on her arm, and she dutifully turned to let him lead her back up the stairs.

As they started up, he said, despite her still-nervous expression, “I shall sleep very soundly, tonight.”

[LINEBREAK]

The next morning, Lenora came out the front door and down the stone steps to find Petro working in the garden, attempting to remove weeds from an overgrown bed with a heavy metal rake.

Lenora had changed her clothes since the night before, and now wore a knee-length, elbow-sleeved white dress with thin chevron stripes under a tan vest. Petro wore the same dirty overalls he had worn last night, now only with the addition of an old black hat, and the long-sleeved shirt under the denim was now light blue and covered in small white polkadots. Lenora could hardly remember ever seeing him in any outfit that didn’t include the overalls.

“Good morning, Petro.” She said.

He had seen her coming, and had, taken the hat off his head to press to his chest with one hand in polite and enthusiastic greeting, leaning the rake’s handle against a young tree next to him. “Good morning, Miss Lenora! I was hoping you’d come to the garden this morning — I got something for you!”

He leaned over, and picked up a bundle of flowers he’d sat on the moss next to him.

There were some yellow dandelions, white beggarticks, a few pale pink asters, and tall spikes of deep blue flowers she wasn't familiar with. She took them with a smile. “Oh, they’re lovely!”

“I’ll pick some for you every day if you like them!” Petro offered, still grinning.

“Well that’s very kind of you.” Lenora said, looking down at the flowers to examine them. But then an expression of disquiet came over her face, and she looked nervously behind her shoulder, listening to the repetitive call of a bird that, to her ears sounded threatening and ominous.

“What’s the matter, Miss Lenora?” Petro asked.

Still looking around nervously, she said, “Petro, I don’t like it here.”

“No,” Petro agreed, “I guess you feel the same about this place as I do. I’m a-feared of it, especially at night when the mist comes up out of the swamp.” The bird continued to sing from somewhere out of the bounds of the garden. “Of course,” Petro continued after a moment, looking around at the brightly lit garden, with its sparse flowers — mostly from the weeds — and many overgrown hedges and shrubs, “It’s alright when the sun’s shining like it is this morning.”

“Are there any wild animals around here?” Lenora asked nervously.

“Oh, yes’m, there’s lots of them.” Petro said, thinking of the singing bird, “How come you ask?”

“Oh, I was just curious.” Lenora deflected, looking down at the flowers again. “Say, Petro, what do you do when you work with dad in the laboratory?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Well, I don’t likely know.” Petro admitted, “Besides, I ain’t supposed to tell nothing. Your pop made me promise.”

“Oh, you can trust me,” Lenora said with a smile, trying to win his confidence, “I wouldn't tell anybody.”

Won over, Petro started to say, “Well, we…” But then he stopped, looking past her to the other corner of the garden as Doctor Cameron came angrily striding through the gate, and stopped to stare over at the two of them as though he knew that some mischief were about to happen.

Petro turned slightly away from Lenora and averted his gaze from Doctor Cameron, saying guiltily, “No’m, I ain’t saying nothing.”

Confused by his sudden change of heart, Lenora looked behind her shoulder and saw her father approaching. Today he wore a grey suit with a black tie, and as he came to stand next to her and across from Petro, he folded his arms behind his back. “Morning dear.”

“Good morning, Dad.” She replied automatically.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes, very well!” She held up the flowers to draw his attention to them, trying to act like she and Petro had only been having an innocent conversation. “Look at the flowers that Petro gave me!”

“Very pretty.” Doctor Cameron said unconvincingly, not even looking at them, and directed his next words at Petro: “I’m afraid that you’re going to have to give up your gardening for the time being, Petro, I want you in the laboratory.”

He didn’t look at his daughter to see the worried expression that fell across her face at his words as she looked between the two men in concern and confusion.

“But Doc,” Petro said, not quite protesting, but almost. His hands were in his pockets, and he used his head to indicate the weed-filled garden beds around them, “If I don’t keep at this stuff, how am I ever gonna make it look pretty? And I like pretty things.”

It was the closest Petro had ever come to talking back since Doctor Cameron or his daughter had known him.

When Doctor Cameron replied, it was with an angry snap that gave no room for further argument: “We shall leave this place long before you’re able to beautify it." He added in an only slightly gentler tone, "Gardening really isn’t very important.”

Disappointed, Petro hung his head slightly, looking at the Doctor through his lashes.

Ignoring his daughter completely, Doctor Cameron commanded Petro, “Come along with me,” and began to walk away. Petro followed him without another word, securing his black hat back on his head.

Lenora, still clutching the flowers to her chest, turned to watch both men enter the house as though she didn't exist. She said nothing, knowing that nothing she said would change anything.

[LINEBREAK]

Hours later when the sun had finally set into the night, Doctor Cameron entered his lab through the secret door, paused in the threshhold to turn the switch that would shut the door behind him, and said, "Ah, Petro, I see you’re waiting for me.”

As the door began to slide shut behind him, the coyote, still in the cage, began to howl as though to make up for the fact that the door swung silently on its powered track.

Ignoring the unhappy coyote, Doctor Cameron strode over to the couch where Petro sat, waiting for him.

“You scared me, Doc.” Petro said.

“Scared you, boy?” Doctor Cameron asked, “You musn’t be so jumpy, you’re as nervous as that wolf!” He, in his ignorance, meant the caged coyote.

“He sure is nervous, all right.” Petro, who had also never seen a wolf in his life, confirmed, “I’ve been sitting here for a long time, watching him, and he ain’t been still a minute.”

Regardless of their conversation, the coyote continued to howl, whine, and yowl in turn, as though hoping one of these would lead to its release.

Abruptly giving up the pretense of small talk, Doctor Cameron gestured toward the couch. “Alright, lie down, Petro.”

Petro balked, for just a moment. He was being very uppity today, Doctor Cameron noted. “Are you gonna strap me down again tonight, Doc?”

His hands folded behind his back as he looked down at Petro, Doctor Cameron said, keeping his voice calm, “Oh, certainly. It’s more necessary tonight than ever before.”

After a moment Petro said, “It must be great to be educated. I wish I had a lot of book-leaning, so I could understand what this is all about.”

“Fortunately, you don’t need education or intelligence for your part in this experiment, just strength. Animal strength.” Doctor Cameron said, ignoring the unstated request for information. If he'd wanted a test subject that would ask questions, he would have found one who knew how to read. “Now lie down, we’ll get to work.”

Without any more argument, Petro swung his legs up onto the couch and settled himself down against the raised back, even going so far as lifting some of the restraining straps to help Doctor Cameron fasten them over top of him.

[LINEBREAK]

It wasn’t much later that Doctor Cameron stood once again over the still form of the, as he called it, wolf-man. The transformed Petro was still unconscious, and the coyote, in its cage, still howled.

Putting the used syringe in a case on the large shelf on the back wall, Doctor Cameron returned to the side of the couch and began undoing the restraints that had only just been secured. The arms, legs, and feet were released, the leather cuffs around the wrists opened and allowed to drop to the floor as the coyote-man below him began to faintly stir.

Unperturbed, Doctor Cameron left the couch and moved to a large panel of switches on the wall past the foot of the couch and adjusted two levers, glancing only once behind his shoulder to check on the unconcious coyote-man behind him. Seeing that he was still unconcious for now, Doctor Cameron moved forward and hid himself out of sight.

Just in time. The coyote-man’s eyes snapped open suddenly and he growled. In the cage, the coyote stood, facing the couch, growling and howling still.

Slowly, squinting as though the light hurt his eyes, the coyote-man sat up on the couch, and stood, growling, to look around that corner of the room. He looked at the shelves of vials and jars, at the empty table with its four chairs.

Then he seemed to notice the caged coyote for the first time, and thrust his chest forward and his arms back, growling as he took a few threatening steps forward.

The coyote snarled back, ears pinned, jamming its muzzle into the bars of the cage.

For a few moments, the two traded snarls and growls, then the coyote-man looked back the way he’d come, noticing an open door that had appeared at the foot of the couch.

Without hesitation he strode away from the coyote in its cage to hurry through the new door, and found himself in a short, cobweb infested and dusty corridor lined with stone that led directly to the left, with another door at the end made of thick wood, with a small barred window in the center letting in the smells and sounds of the night air.

In the lab, Doctor Cameron quietly came out of hiding, and peered through the open door at the coyote-man’s back. Out of sight of the werecoyote he had created, he flicked another switch on the wall panel, and, in the corridor, the wooden door leading outside seemed to swing open of its own accord, revealing the backs of hedges and weeds that had crowded up and overgrown right over it in all the years the house had been left unused..

Not even waiting for the door to finish opening, the werecoyote was already striding towards it, seeking escape. He was through it in moments, and as he pushed through the overgrown mass of plants that obscured the door from outside eyes and took off away from the house, Doctor Cameron quietly moved forward and watched him go, peering through the branches, not saying a word or making any sound.

Out in the darkness of the night, the werecoyoted growled to himself and began a steady, quick pace away from the house and its gardens, heading for the thick treeline.

Inside, Doctor Cameron smiled to himself and turned back through the door to his laboratory, and turned both levers on the panel to shut the two doors behind him. Then, self-satisfied, he strode out of his lab and into the main house.

Outside, the mist was so thick as it hugged the ground that the werecoyote’s form as he pushed through wild ferns, palms, and hanging vines and moss was hardly visible. Around him, coyotes howled and yelped loudly from the east, and he avoided them. The night air was filled with other sounds as well — crickets with many voices, the high squeaks of bats, and unfamiliar creatures in the distance somewhere with haunting, echoing calls. Every now and then came short bursts of barking owls. But loudest and most ever present of all of them were the coyotes.

The werecoyote moved carefully over the unfamiliar ground, but he kept moving. He was lost and confused, and searching for something he knew not what. He pushed through the plants without care, and many times felt the sting of sharp yucca leaves or thorny vines on his arms and legs as he made an ill-considered move. He did not know where the game trails were, and would have been too nervous to use them even had he found them, and instead had to forge his own slow and awkward path through the wilderness.

Not so far away in the darkness, there was a small house in a clearing, and a man with a down-turned lantern opened, and then came in through the shabby wooden door and back into his home.

He latched it it behind him, then casually threw his hat off onto the floor nearby, and extinguished the lantern fully with a jerk of the handle. He wore a dirty jacket over dark corduroy overalls, and had short dark hair combed flat against his head.

His wife approached to greet him in her favorite casual dress, red with pink polkadots, under her white work apron.

“All the animals are terrible nervous tonight for some reason or other,” The man said instead of his usual greeting as he stopped in front of a small table where he sat the lantern on a chair, “the old plow mule like to kick my head off, come up behind a-sorta quiet like and lashed out with both feet!”

With an anxious expression, his wife wrung her hands, looking down at them without saying a word.

Behind the two of them, sitting next to the fireplace and bundled up in blankets and a shawl as she smoked a pipe, an old woman said, as though this were the continuation of a conversation that she had already started with the younger woman, “It’s the Devil-mist in the swamp land, I can smell evil in it.” She lifted her pipe to her mouth again.

The young women spun on her, hands first clenched into fists then spread wide, and snapped, “Oh, would you stop talking like that! I’m so nervous now I could scream!” She spun back to the short table in front of her, wringing her hands together for a few moments before she desperately picked up a few dirty plates and rushed away. It was clear her husband's news of the animal's behavior wasn't the first strange thing that had happened since the sun had set.

Saying nothing else, the man just moved the lantern to the floor, and took a seat in the vacated chair.

Suddenly a young child’s voice called in a high, cheerful voice, “See, mommy? I’m all ready!”, and a little girl came to stand in a doorway on the far side of the room, wearing her nightgown, and holding a ball against her chest with one hand. She smiled.

“Ah, that’s fine.” Her mother said, coming back over from the kitchen area, and reaching out to adjust an un-done button near the collar, “Now you hop in bed.”

“Can I play with my ball just for a little while?” The little girl asked, lifting it slightly to indicate it. It was covered in bright patterns and colors, and had been her favorite toy since she'd gotten it.

“Well," Her mother said, "just for a little while.” Then she put one hand on the ball sternly. “But mind — if you ain’t in bed by the time I do my dishes, I’m gonna tan you good!” She wagged her finger to emphasize the warning, but despite the words and gesture, she was smiling.

The little girl smiled up at her, and promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll be in bed and fast asleep by that time!”

Her mother leaned down and pulled her in for a goodnight kiss, and she leaned up happily.

“Goodnight.” Said the mother.

“Goodnight!” Said the daughter, and turned into her little room, where she went to stand next to her bed in front of the curtained window, and began happily bouncing the ball off the floor from one hand to the other.

Sighing with tired patience, the mother turned away and went back into the main room.

Out in the marsh, the werecoyote still roamed aimlessly far from any known trails, forced to duck under sweeping ropes of hanging moss and vines, looking around in constant confusion, and every now and then giving vent to a harsh barking grunt of warning to no one but himself. The ground was uneven from the arching of tree roots and stalagmite-like cedar shoots, and puddles of water and muddy ground were often only noticed when he'd already stepped into them with both feet.

Far too close by for safety, a man whistled cheerfully to himself as he walked home. He carried a hunting rifle with him, and wore a light colored hat, and a long sleeved shirt under overalls. He was at ease despite the darkness. This was his home, he knew these swampy woods like he knew the back of his hand.

Just as he was about to duck under a large grapevine, he stopped suddenly, and the whistle caught in his throat as he suddenly became aware of...something in the woods somewhere ahead of him.

He squinted out through the thick mist, trying to make out any sense. But the fog was so thick that all he could see was the trunk of a nearby dead tree that had once been a towering oak, and the feathery fronds of a squat, feral sago palm that had grown up so fast. But there was something else out there, something unfamiliar and new and predatory — there!

Movement, upright like a man, and it was coming closer, maybe a dozen yards away!

He heard loud growling as he stared, and after a moment he threw a hand to his face in shock, unable to believe what his eyes were trying to tell him even through the thick mist: that was no ordinary man, though he wore the overalls of one. His hands were covered in hair, and there were unmistakably sharp pointed teeth being bared out of that wrinkled mouth as the mist was temporarily rolled away to reveal his features.

The creature lifted its hands, and growled louder.

Without any time for thought, the man lifted his gun to his shoulder and fired off a wild pair of shots. But the mist closed in again before he could tell if either had hit, and then, to his horror, he realized the creature was now striding forward, snarling louder than before.

The man turned and ran, only getting a few moments of a head start as the werecoyote was forced to step carefully through a patch of slippery mud to avoid falling, and then it was after him almost faster than he could believe, and he could hear it tearing over the ground behind him, terrifyingly close as its snarls and growls and the trash of its body through the leaves crashed behind him.

In the small home, the four residents were still awake. The old woman still sat smoking by the empty fireplace, the man still sat at the table, and the young woman was busy in the kitchen.

Suddenly, “Help! Help! Help!” was being shouted through their front door, and with it came the sound of a fist beating desperately against the wood.

Even before he knew what he was doing, the homeowner had leapt to his feet and jumped to the door to open it, letting the fleeing man inside.

The newcomer was out of breath as he jumped inside, but he gasped out, turning back to face the doorway, “Shut the door, quick!” He gripped his gun in one hand, keeping the barrel pointed up towards the ceiling as he moved further into the room, exclaiming to the young woman and her husband, as the other man firmly locked the door, “I’ve never seen anything so awful in my life!”

“What are you talking about?” The husband questioned, following him back into the center of the room.

“Something took after me down in the swamp!” the man yelled.

Unknown to anyone in the house, in the small side room where the little girl now sat below the window, sleepily bouncing the ball to herself, the window behind the light curtain began to slide silently upwards, pushed by the clawed hands of the coyote-man.

The little girl heard nothing, and as the window was pushed open enough for him to come through, the werecoyote leaned in over her.

Out in the main room, the husband asked, “What was it?”

“I don’t know whether it was a man or beast, or old Satan himself!” the man replied.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop, so help me! I let him have both barrels of my shotgun, but that ain’t even slowed him down!”

The old woman, still smoking her pipe, watched this conversation the whole time with a growing smile of self-satisfaction, and now she laughed out, “Ha, no, you can’t get them no ways, except with a silver bullet!”

She chuckled darkly, even as the others in the room ignored her.

The man who had so closely escaped death shook his head, throwing out one hand for emphasis, “Alright, I’m telling you, it was something awful!”

Then the little girl’s ball came out of the bedroom, and bounced off her mother’s legs.

Confused, the woman bent down to pick it up, holding it up for her husband to see. Then, struck by a sudden chord of worry, she turned away from the others and hurried into the bedroom.

Just a few moments later, her shriek of horror brought the other three rushing towards the door, with the old woman leaping to her feet more quickly than she’d moved in years.

[LINEBREAK]

Many hours later, the sky was starting to lighten, and the werecoyote, still growling to himself every now and then, had managed to circle the woods, and was now headed almost directly back to the door that had released him out into the night.

Doctor Cameron, still awake, still in his clothes from the day before, peered out through an upper floor window of the house and saw, with a grin of delight, that the werecoyote was approaching.

He rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and into his lab, and grabbed a heavy riding crop from a table before he went to the wall panel. Then he flipped both switches, opening the powered doors, and allowing the werecoyote to regain entrance to the lab, first through the outer garden door, then the inner one leading into the lab. Just as quickly as the werecoyote had left through them originally, he returned back through them.

Doctor Cameron had only to wait a few moments before the werecoyote stood in front of him through the stone-hall doorway, standing unsteadily, shielding his eyes from the light as though it hurt, seeming bewildered. Then the werecoyote lowered his hand, and saw Doctor Cameron standing in front of him with a determined expression.

The werecoyote froze in place, then growled an open-mouthed warning, angling his face upward as though to make himself seem taller than he already was.

“Petro!” Doctor Cameron commanded, standing stiff and straight and refusing to back down, “Lie down on that couch!”

Eyes wide, the werewolf snarled again, but made no move to attack or flee.

“Lay down!” Doctor Cameron roared, raising the whip threateningly.

The werecoyote shrank quickly away, eyes locked on the whip as though he not only knew, but personally remembered exactly what it could do to him. He came cringing into the room, and backed away and to the side of Doctor Cameron until his legs met the couch, and sat down, never taking his eyes off the riding crop.

Doctor Cameron watched him go, and seemed shocked that his plan had actually worked.

But he wasted no time, and, trading the whip to his other hand, reached for the switches on the wall to close both doors again, keeping his faced turned to watch the werecoyote that sat on the couch, staring back at him in cowed silence.

The doors closed securely, Doctor Cameron strode forcefully to the tall shelves at the back to retrieve the antidote, and tossed the whip down onto the floor, looking away from the werecoyote for only a moment at a time to see what he was doing.

When he had the new syringe ready, he moved to stand in front of the werecoyote and commanded, “Down!”, hardly waiting for compliance before he put his hand on the werecoyote's shoulder, forcibly pushing him down onto the couch, and hefted one knee up onto his chest again to pin him securely. The werecoyote put up no fight, seemingly too bewildered to respond except through submission.

The antidote was injected, and Doctor Cameron stood back up and stepped away, an array of complicated emotions crossing his face as he waited for the transformation to undo itself, and for Petro to reawaken.

It didn't take long, and when he was awake again, Petro rubbed at his eyes with one hand, then saw Doctor Cameron out of the corner of his eyes, and, looking at him, sat up slowly, and asked, confused, “Have I been walking in my sleep again?”

Doctor Cameron said shortly, “Yes, you have. You’d better go to bed.”

Petro stood, and suddenly the differences in their height seemed more apparent than it ever had as Doctor Cameron had to look up at him.

But when Petro spoke, his tone was regretful. “I’m sorry if I made a nuisance of myself. I think I went walking because I have such bad dreams.”

“Don’t be upset about your dreams, Petro.” Doctor Cameron said, “You’ve been of great assistance to me tonight, very great assistance." It was finally time for his plan to be put into action. "In fact, I’m going to reward you by taking you into the city with me.”

Petro clearly couldn’t believe his good luck, and he asked, surprised and excited, “You mean, I can go along with you and ride in the car?”

“Yes,” Doctor Cameron said, “While we’re in the city, we’ll make calls together. First we will call upon a pompous gentleman called Blaine." His voice, cheerful, changed suddenly, and he spat out like something foul, "Professor Blaine.”

[LINEBREAK]

Later that morning, after the sun had risen fully above the horizon, Lenora found Petro once again raking in the garden, this time further out beyond the fence, behind one of the old shagbark trees as he attempted to tame the sides of a hedge that had long since gone overgrown and dissarayed.

This time she wore a dark dress with a white floral pattern, and a black belt. The only difference in Petro’s wardrobe was that he now wore the first plain white shirt again below his trusty overalls instead of the blue one. He had very few clothes compared to his employers; he couldn't afford them.

“Good morning, Petro.” Lenora greeted, as before.

He took his hat off again as he turned to greet her, returning, “Good morning, Miss Lenora.”

“Will you do me a favor?” She asked, eyes playfully wide to convey the request.

Petro grinned shyly down at her. “You know I’d do anything for you.” He said, turning his hat in his hands.

Grinning back at him, Lenora handed him a sealed envelope and explained, “Well, I want you to mail this letter for me when you go into the village. And it’s already stamped!” She pointed to the stamp so he wouldn’t miss it.

Nodding, Petro said, “Yes ma’am,” and started to put the letter into his front pocket while Lenora smiled widely at the success.

But a voice from behind her spoke out as abruptly as it was sharp: “I’ll take that letter!”

Petro looked up, and Lenora spun, offended. “Dad!”

But her father just held his hand out imperiously to Petro and said, “Give me that letter.”

Lenora could do nothing but stand and watch as Petro was forced to unwillingly hand it over.

Doctor Cameron looked down at the envelope just long enough to see who it was addressed to, then spoke in resignation. “So you couldn’t wait for my work to finish. You thought you had to write to your reporter.”

“Oh, I just wanted to tell him I was safe!” Lenora protested, “You remember? You made me go away without even saying goodbye!”

“There was a reason for that, my dear, a very good reason.” Her father replied, but before any of them could say another word, a sudden crashing sound through the underbrush made them all look up.

Emerging from the trees a short distance away were several men carrying guns who hadn’t noticed them yet, speaking to eachother as they regrouped, one man asking, “See anything of em?” with a chorus of "No"s rising in answer.

Another man said, “It don’t look like it’s any use looking now it’s daylight; he only prowls at night.” Then the man glanced up, and saw the the surprised gardener, young woman, and respectably dressed scientist, focusing in on Doctor Cameron as the only clearly in charge of the three. “Maybe he’s seen something.” The man said, and the men around him made various sounds of approval, one man suggesting, “Yeah, let’s go ask him.”

The armed men surrounded the confused Doctor, while Lenora stood there in bewilderment, and Petro wordlessly backed away to give the newcomers room.

“Good morning,” Doctor Cameron greeted them calmly, “Why all the armament?”

“We’re looking for a wild varmint that killed a little child.” One especially tall man said, “Been looking all night.” He was the same one who had barely escaped with his life just a few short hours ago.

“You mean someone was killed by a wild animal?” Doctor Cameron asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Yes,” said the man who’d taken the place where Petro had stood before. “My little girl.”

“But how terrible!” Lenora said, putting her hand on the man’s arm in sympathy, “How did it happen?”

“Come in through the window.” The man said sadly, “My wife said the window was closed, but she must’ve been mistaken.”

Behind them, with no one paying attention to him, Petro listened to these words in silence, with his expression morphing into something like quiet, horrified, recognition as the father who had lost his daughter continued speaking: “Didn’t try to take the baby away or nothing, just seemed to kill just for the love of killing.”

“Did anyone see the animal?” Doctor Cameron asked, as though in simple curiosity.

“Jed Harper did,” came the reply from another man. “He said it walked on its hind legs like a man, but...that don’t make sense.”

Petro’s jaw clenched, and he clutched the rake tighter, staring down at his hands as yet Jed Harper himself spoke up. “I don’t care whether it makes sense or not, come on, men, we got work to do!” He lifted his arm and gestured for the crowd of farmers to leave, and as one they did, dispersing back into the woods to continue searching, leaving Petro, Lenora, and Doctor Cameron alone once more.

Lenore looked up at her father, afraid. “What do you make of it, Dad?”

Doctor Cameron was distracted, staring off after the retreating backs of the searchers. “Predatory animal that opens windows…” He said distractedly, and Lenora nodded as though it were a question.

He said, without any sign of sadness or regret, “That would be very interesting to science.”

Lenora didn’t say anything, but her expression tightened and grew angry.

“Dominant urge is to kill and destroy, even when unprovoked” Doctor Cameron said, his gaze cast upward as though in deep thought, as though he were guessing instead of stating facts he already knew. “A human characteristic translated into an animal instinct.”

Petro was distressed by this, and grimaced, shaking his head as though to shake the thought away. He turned away from Lenora and her father, moving the rake against the ground in a mechanical fashion as though trying to ignore what was happening. But he couldn’t help but hear Doctor Cameron’s continued speech: “Animals rarely kill except for food or self-defense. The eminent professor, Doctor Blaine would be...interested to...study...such an amazing animal.”

[LINEBREAK]

It was night, and Professor Blaine was in his study when he heard a knock on one of the French doors that led to the garden. Leaving the round table in the center of the room that had a gilded drinking horn displayed on it, he went over and pulled the curtain aside to peer out, and was met with the young face of a familiar reporter grinning in at him.

Professor Blaine let the curtain drop, and gladly opened the door. “Well come on in, Tom, glad to see you!” He held out his hand, and they shook.

“Good evening, Doctor Blaine!” Tom said cheerfully, taking his hat off. “I came in through the garden so as not to disturb your housekeeper.” He wore a grin, a light tan suit, and a black tie.

“Sit down,” Professor Blaine said invitingly, gesturing across the room to his desk, which was covered in various objects related to his studies of interest, with a professionally taxidermied hawk, posed upright on a branch, standing out as it was elevated above the others as it sat on the front side.

Happily, Tom led the way over, and Professor Blaine said, “Even if Martha has dozed off, which I think she has, there’s no alarm or fire which would disturb her.”

Tom took a chair next to the desk, and Professor Blaine took his own chair behind it. “I have a faint suspicion,” he said, “That there is something besides my housekeeper’s welfare on your mind. What is it?” There was amusement in his friendly voice.

Tom leaned forward in his chair. "Well, I'm after a story."

“Well, quite a normal pursuit for a newspaper-man.” Professor Blaine smiled.

Tom chucked, then explained, “An AP dispatch from Ashton, down in the swamp country, talks about a child being killed by a wild animal.”

“Well, that’s a tragic thing!”

“Yes. A, a neighboring farmer saw the brute, and swears that it travels at a terrific speed on its two hind legs.”

Professor Blaine regarded him, then suggested, “I understand they make a potent corn liquor in that district.” He chuckled a little.

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that!” Tom rushed to assure him, “I have a hunch there’s more to this story than just a jug full of corn liquor. I hoped that you could give me an angle I could work into a Sunday feature!” He looked earnestly at the older man.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘an angle’?” Professor Blaine asked, confused.

Tom explained energetically, gesturing with one hand in time with his words, “The possibility of the survival, in the depths of the swamps, of some of those overgrown lizards that used to be the head men on Earth. I understand they traveled around on their hind legs, and made our present-day public enemies look like horticultural specimens!”

While Tom had been speaking, Professor Blaine’s eyes had narrowed in first thought, then an almost unreadable expression, as though he were trying to hide disappointment.

When Tom finished, Professor Blaine put his elbow on the arm of his chair, and leaned his head against his hand. “I’m sorry, Tom," He said, "I can’t lend myself to that sort of sensationalism.” He rubbed at his chin for a moment, then pointed abruptly for emphasis as he said, “True science’s search for knowledge is on a far higher plane than that. It is worthy of being treated with dignity, and I feel I owe an obligation to the people that respect my opinion — your, uh, angle, as you call it, on prehistoric lizards, is utterly fantastic!” His tone wasn’t angry or insulting, but it was very firm in its conviction.

Tom was embarrassed, and it made him become shifty-eyed, unable or unwilling to look straight at Professor Blaine as, drooped out of his excited pose from before, he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was getting into such deep water.” He shifted, about to stand. “Well, I’ll hang my head in shame and sneak away—”

But before he’d even finished the sentence, Professor Blaine had leaned forward to clap a hand on his shoulder, interrupting in a cheerful voice, “Nah! No harm done! Don’t take it so to heart, put your feet up on the desk and stay for a while.”

Tom, cheered again, still had to decline. “Well, I can’t now, I’ve got to get back to the office. But I’ll drop around again!”

The two stood, and shook hands. Tom added “Thank you very much for the information!”

Professor Blaine chuckled, “Well, I didn’t give you very much! See you again, boy.”

Both were grinning as they separated, and Tom headed for the door to make his stealthy departure through the garden.

A large grandfather clock near the door read 10:30. Then, as an hour went by, it changed to 11:30.

The time that had passed since Tom’s departure found Professor Blaine sitting at his desk, concentrating on a large book below him.

Then there came a knock on his office door, and he looked up at the sound.

At first his brow furrowed in confusion, as though he wasn’t sure he’d really heard it, half expecting for Tom to be back at the garden door again. But then the knock sounded again, decidedly coming from the hard wooden door that led to the rest of his home, and he pushed out of his chair to circle the desk and cross the room, frowning.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and before he had time to say anything, Doctor Cameron, who stood in his doorway, said, “Hello Blaine”, as he took off his hat and stepped through without invitaiton, and then took another step into Professor Blaine’s personal space, until they were standing uncommonly close. “Surprised to see me?” There was no warmth in his tone.

Professor Blaine said, “Yes, I confess I am.” Then, politely ignoring the fact that Doctor Cameron had already barged through the threshold, “Come in, sit down.”

“Thank you.” Doctor Cameron said, and went past Professor Blaine, heading for the desk as though it were his study they were in and not the other way around. “You shouldn’t be surprised, Blaine.” he said, as Professor Blaine had to increase his walking pace so he wouldn’t be left standing at the door. “I told you that I’d come back when I could prove my theory to your complete satisfaction.”

They rounded the corners of the desk at almost the same time, and Professor Blaine was astounded, “You say you’ve proven that wild theory?”

Doctor Cameron lowered himself, with a smirk, into the chair Tom had {so recently} departed. “Well, I’m here,” He said as though the answer were self-evident. “You don’t think I enjoyed your comments so much that I came back merely to hear you repeat them?” He crossed one leg over the other as he sat, looking sarcastically up at Professor Blaine, who still stood.

“Any comments I made were expressions of honest opinion.” Professor Blaine said as he sat himself in his own chair. “I would retract any statement proven to be untrue.”

There was something wild about Doctor Cameron’s expression as he leaned forward suddenly, and though he seemed calm at first, with every accusation he shot out, he became more and more clearly enraged, his fists clenching around his hat. “You think that will cancel your obligations? You think a retraction will pay me for the humiliation of being held up to public ridicule, for having my scientific reputation blasted, for being forced to resign from an honorable position?”

Professor Blaine, looking at him sideways, said firmly, “I deeply regret any possible injustice. But my rejection of your theory was not intended as a personal persecution.”

Doctor Cameron shut his eyes, and lifted a hand to his brow, visibly calming himself. “I’m sorry, I, I apologize, Doctor Blaine.” When he lowered his hand, his voice was forcibly cheered, and there was that smirk on his face again. “I suppose we’re all prone at times to lose sight of the true perspective.”

“Well let’s say no more about it.” Professor Blaine said in a friendly tone, trying to keep up some civility, “I’ll gladly consider anything in support of your theory.”

Doctor Cameron leaned forward again, holding up a hand, that wild light back in his expression. “I’m not asking you to take my word for anything, just to believe the evidence of your own eyes.” He stood out of his chair, reaching a hand to the sky, and said, “Petro!”

Professor Blaine quickly stood from his chair to greet whoever would come through the still-open door to the hall.

Petro came through, for once not dressed in his usual overalls. Now he wore a tweed suit over a clean white shirt, though on his head still sat his regular black hat.

He walked slowly over to the desk where Doctor Cameron was waiting, and looked around the room and its decor in open appreciation the entire time, not once turning to look at Professor Blaine, as though unaware he were the owner of the home he currently stood in, or that greeting him was what was expected of him. In truth, Petro wasn't aware of any of this. He had never "gone calling" on gentlemen before, and outside of working for Doctor Cameron, he had never interacted with anyone more wealthy than a shop owner every now and again when his family had gone into town. The Danfield manor Doctor Cameron was renting had been the largest building Petro had seen outside of a church, and Professor Blaine's home was even bigger. He was in absolute awe walking through it now, and had no idea that he was expected to greet the homeowner.

“Petro, you sit here.” Doctor Cameron said, directing Petro to the chair he’d been sitting in, then as an aside to Professor Blaine, “He’s my guinea pig.” while Petro stared now with open-mouthed awe at the books lining Professor Blaine’s back wall as he lowered himself into the seat. He had never seen so many in his life — Doctor Cameron had a few in his study, but Petro had never been allowed so close to them as he was to these, and there weren't that many in comparison to the treasure trove he saw before him now, just a few feet away. He seemed to not even notice that Professor Blaine existed.

Doctor Cameron began pulling things out of his pockets and setting them on Professor Blaine’s desk.

Professor Blaine had one hand on his chin and the other propping up his elbow, looking between Doctor Cameron and the overawed Petro, whose head was constantly swiveling from side to side as though he couldn’t get enough of looking around at everything.

Professor Blaine looked away from Petro, and frowned down at the items Doctor Cameron was arranging on the desk. Then he walked closer to Petro, and asked, “You’re aware of the nature of this experiment?”

“We’ve been doing this a long time.” Petro said, grinning up at him.

It did not occur to Professor Blaine to ask any more specific questions to make sure that Petro actually understood what he was asking, and what he was being subjected to.

“You may rest assured the experiment is a proven success.” Doctor Cameron said, still busy at the desk, “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Professor Blaine put his hands in his pockets and came to stand next to Doctor Cameron, who was now filling a syringe out of a small container. He asked, “What good can come of tampering with the normal laws of nature?”

“A great deal of course.” Doctor Cameron said, lifting his eyes from his work only for a moment, “An invincible army, for one thing. You’ll understand when you see the results.”

“I abhor whatever appears to be a perversion of science.” Professor Blaine said firmly, “Mingling the blood of man and beast is downright sacrilege.”

Doctor Cameron lifted his eyes again, fiercely. “I have no sympathy for such maudlin sentimentality. I propounded a theory which you denounced publicly as being ridiculous, the result of a distorted mind!” He lifted his head and glared directly at Professor Blaine, and asked dangerously, “Are you trying to squirm out of facing the possibility that you may be wrong?”

“Not at all.” Professor Blaine said calmly, “I will cooperate in any way possible.”

Doctor Cameron nodded sharply, and his facade of cheerfulness came back almost instantly. “That’s just what I wanted to hear!” Professor Blaine seemed put-off by the abrupt changes in tone as Doctor Cameron continued, still fiddling with his tools, “I’ve given him one injection to prepare his blood for the transfusion. He will need another—” he looked at his watch— “In exactly twenty minutes.”

Professor Blaine looked over at Petro again, who was still looking around the room, moving his head more slowly now, his expression shifting from thoughtful frowns to triumphant grins, as though he were puzzling out the uses for the many amazing things he saw around him.

Then the phone rang, and Doctor Cameron stared fixedly at it as Professor Blaine picked it up, answering, “Hello?”

Far away back in the old Danfield mansion, Lenora sat at the desk in her father’s opulent study, speaking into the phone. “Is this Magnolia street, 7136?” She asked, then, after a pause, where Professor Blaine replied in the positive, she said, “I’d like to speak to Doctor Lorenzo Cameron, please.” She said the line as thought it had been carefully studied.

Back in the study of Professor Blaine, he said, “Ah, just a moment, please.” and pushed the receiver towards the Doctor. “It’s for you, Cameron.”

“For me?” Doctor Cameron pretended to be confused, and took the phone with a questioning, “Hello? Oh, is that you, dear?” while Professor Blaine put his hands in his pockets, seemingly impatient with the interruption.

Lenora, in her father’s study, prompted, “You asked me to call you and find out if you’re returning tonight.”

Not actually responding to his daughter's question, Doctor Cameron just said, “Alright, I’ll be over as soon as I can. Goodbye." And hung up the phone.

Lenora, still holding the phone up, said, “Goodbye…?” as though it were a question, and then slowly put the receiver back down, one eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

“A friend, I’ll have to go out and get her.” Doctor Cameron said in response to Professor Blaine’s silently questioning look. “I won’t be long.”

“What about the second injection you said that had to be given in twenty minutes?” Professor Blaine asked, his hands deep in his pockets.

Doctor Cameron acted as though it had slipped his mind, and glanced at his watch. “Oh, yes, the injection. I may be able to make it.” Then he said abruptly, “If not, I wonder, Doctor, whether you’d do it for me.”

Professor Blaine started, and drew his hands back out of his pockets, staring for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights under Doctor Cameron’s intense gaze. Then he straightened the edges of his coat, and said hesitatingly, “Why uh, yes, I...guess so.”

“That’s very very kind of you.” Doctor Cameron’s gaze had not lost its intensity. Then he looked over his shoulder, and said, “Petro, you stay here and don’t bother Doctor Blaine.”

“No, sir, I won’t bother.” Petro said quickly, glancing at Professor Blaine for the first time, and only for a moment before going back to his study of the room.

Doctor Cameron picked up his hat, then pretended to stop and hesitate as though the thought had just occurred to him. “Of course it’s quite possible, Doctor, if I don’t get back, that you can ensure the failure of this demonstration...by forgetting the injection.” He frowned, and let himself trail off with, “I’ll have to take that chance…”

“Don’t worry,” Professor Blaine said firmly, “Even if I lacked a sense honor, pride would hardly allow me to stoop to such a level. I shall give him the injection if you’re not here by twelve.”

“At twelve...precisely.” Doctor Cameron said, pushing the syringe he had filled meaningfully across the table.

While Professor Blaine was frowning down at it, Doctor Cameron left the room without another word, leaving Petro in the chair, and Professor Blaine standing in front of his own desk.

After a moment, the Professor picked up the receiver to his phone again, and dialed a number, glancing for a moment over at Petro, who just sat contentedly in the chair where he’d been left, still seeming untired of looking around the room.

Professor Blaine put the receiver to his ear, and said, “Hello? Hello, Fitzgerald?”

Fitzgerald, in his own home, held up his own phone in a darkened hallway, and said, “Eh? Is that you, Blaine? Now what do you want to drag me out of bed this time of the night for?” True to his word, he was in his black and white-spotted nightshirt, and the annoyance was heavy in his voice.

Undeterred, Professor Blaine said, “I’ve just had a surprising visitor: Lorenzo Cameron. He claims to have proven his crazy, outlandish blood-transfusion theory, and demands the right to give a demonstration.” He paused, listening. “Yeah.” Pause. “No, he’s, no, no he’s not here now.” Pause. “He’ll be back after twelve.” Pause. “Why don’t you come on over?”

In his home, Professor Fitzgerald leaned against the wall thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll get dressed and be over right away. "He said finally, "Take me about ten minutes.” He hung up without another word.

Professor Blaine set his phone back down, and looked at Petro before walking over to where he sat. He crossed his arms behind his back and asked, “Are you at all familiar with the work Doctor Cameron is doing?” It had finally occurred to him that he should try to get more information out of the so-called "guinea pig".

Petro looked up at him, “Oh, no, sir, I’m just handyman around the place.” Professor Blaine nodded as though this made sense, and Petro continued, “Nobody, not even Miss Lenora, knows what he does.”

“Oh, his daughter is still with him?” Professor Blaine asked, clearly surprised.

Petro nodded. “Oh yes sir, she’s with him, but I think she’s lonesome. She seems to be grieving about something.”

“Oh that’s an outrage!” Professor Blaine said, hooking his fingers into his vest pockets, “Cameron has no right to accept such a sacrifice from her!” Petro looked up at him, mouth slightly open, and Professor Blaine shook his head a little, and smiled. “Oh, I don’t like being a busybody, but she’s such a fine girl—” Petro’s grin rose to meet his own at these words, “And a certain young man is just the tonic she needs to make her happy!” Professor Blaine was thinking of Tom, but Petro had no idea who he meant.

They both smiled, then Petro started to look away again as he got distracted, trying to continue inspecting the room, but Professor Blaine asked, “Where do they live?” and drew his attention back.

Petro seemed to have to think for a moment, then he said, “Uh, Doctor Cameron rented the old Danfield homestead house, ‘bout four or five miles from Ashton.” He added, “It was a fine place, but, ain’t been nobody live there for a long time, and the weeds kept growing closer to the house ‘til they about swallowed up everything.”

Professor Blaine nodded thoughtfully, then abruptly went to his desk, and wrote down the address on a small pad of paper, intending to give it to Tom when he saw the young man again. It wasn't fair for Doctor Cameron to keep his daughter, a grown woman with things to do and places to be, locked up all alone and out in the middle of nowhere.

Time passed, and the grandfather clock read 11:50.

Outside Professor Fitzgerald’s house, the now grey-suited Professor Fitzgerald and Doctor Cameron suddenly met each other going in opposite directions.

“Oh, hello, Fitzgerald!” Doctor Cameron said as they shook hands.

“Oh, Doctor Cameron. I heard you were back in town.” Professor Fitzgerald said. “Blaine just phoned me that you wanted to demonstrate the proof of your blood transfusion theory.”

Doctor Cameron said, almost coldly, “He exaggerates when he mentions demonstration.” His voice rose angrily. “I told him I could prove my claim!” Then he added, in more of a level tone, “But I don’t think Professor Blaine is in a cooperative frame of mind— that’s why I came to you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you to be present when I talk to him.”

Professor Fitzgerald nodded, and said, “Alright, I’ll take a walk over with you." He did not mention that Professor Blaine had also specifically requested he come over.

Doctor Cameron checked his watch, and they started off, Professor Fitzgerald starting to say, “You know, uh…”

Back in his study, Professor Blaine was once more sitting at his desk, reading his book, and as he turned the page, he looked over to check on Petro, who still seemed happy to do nothing but look around the room. The Professor went back to his book.

Then the clock played out the chimes of midnight, and he lifted his gaze to it. He sat upright in his chair, and looked over at Petro again, then down to the syringe on his desk, lying in its little open case.

He picked it up, and examined it unhappily, looking over at Petro again, then tried to see out the garden door from where he sat, leaning to the side as though that would help him get a better view through the curtain. Then he stood and went physically across the room to the door, pulling the curtain aside and looking out in all directions, peering hopefully into the darkness.

But he saw no one, and walked slowly back into the room, and paused in the center. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then walked over to Petro. “I heartily disapprove of the nature of this experiment, but my promise to Doctor Cameron leaves me no alternative.” He said gravely.

Petro just grinned up at him, and and said, with the same cheerfulness as before, “Sure.” He understood that the man didn't want to give him the injection, but was going to do it anyway. He didn't mind either way, he was used to it by now. And as far as he knew, all it did was make him sleepy.

“Roll up your sleeve.” Professor Blaine said.

Petro unbuttoned the cuffs on his right arm and rolled the sleeves up. Professor Blaine stepped in front of him to administer the injection.

A few moments later, Professor Blaine asked, “How do you feel?” and stepped away as Petro rolled his sleeve down.

“Like I always do.” Petro said, still cheerful and calm as he finished buttoning the cuffs back up.

Professor Blaine nodded, and went over to his desk to look down at the empty syringe in his hand for a few moments, before replacing it in its case.

He gave one more look over at Petro, who was once again looking around the room with unceasing wonder.

Professor Blaine went back to reading his book, wondering if anything would happen at all.

Outside, walking through a garden path of agaves and trees hanging with silver moss, Doctor Cameron said, “Well, here we are.” Then he checked his watch again and suddenly gave a sharp, gasp of, “Oh!” and clutched his hands to his chest, curling in on himself as though his heart hurt, slowly stepping backwards like he was unaware of his actions.

Professor Fitzgerald grabbed him by his closest arm to steady him. “Something wrong?”

Doctor Cameron patted one hand against his heart and said, voice quiet, “No it’s just a little heart trouble. Not serious, but, stressing at times. I’ll be alright after I rest for a bit.”

Professor Fitzgerald slowly lowered his arms from Doctor Cameron’s shoulder at his reassurances.

In his study, Professor Blaine looked away from Petro and back to his book, propping his head against one arm as though struggling to keep upright and awake at the late hour.

Petro was blatantly falling asleep where he sat, his eyes closing and his chin nodding down towards his chest when Professor Blaine looked over again.

When Petro’s chin fell forward and he seemed to fall entirely asleep, Professor Blaine smiled to himself and shook his head a little, and went back to leaning his head on his hand while he read. He would have liked to be able to join Petro in the land of sleep, but his pride and honor both demanded he wait for the return of Doctor Cameron.

He couldn't allow any doubt of his commitment to scientific truth to enter into the meeting. He was sure that Doctor Cameron would cry foul and claim Professor Blade had failed to administer the second injection in time if he found him asleep, and had the expected no results from his affront to common decency.

In the garden, Professor Fitzgerald had reached to steady Doctor Cameron again, and suggested, “Maybe we’d better go in the house.”

“No, no,” Doctor Cameron said, making his voice sound strained, “In, in just a moment.” He refused going forward any more, not wanting to reenter Professor Blaine's house too early. If his calculations were correct, Petro would be transforming right about now, if, of course, Professor Blaine had kept his end of the bargain and had administered the serum at the correct time, which Doctor Cameron thought he would do. He knew his old colleagues very well, and they were many things, but they, least of all Professor Blaine, weren't the kind of sniveling cowards that would purposefully sabotage his demonstration by failing to follow instructions. They'd just know they were admitting they were wrong in doing so, and he was relying on that.

Their own moral scruples and sentimentality would lead to their deaths, and Doctor Cameron couldn't have been happier about it. So he continued to resist moving forward, stalling for time by feigning heart trouble.

Then Professor Fitzgerald looked over, where an old, uniformed policeman was approaching through the dark, asking when he saw Doctor Cameron leaning over and Professor Fitzgerald's hand on his arm, “What’s the matter? Drunk?”

“No, a slight heart.” Professor Fitzgerald corrected.

“Want me to call an ambulance?” The cop offered.

In his exuberance to deny this question, Doctor Cameron mementarily forgot he was supposed to be acting like a weak-hearted old man, because he burst out with volume, “No I don’t want an ambulance!” Then he remembered himself, and lowered his voice again, trying to make up for his outburst by making his voice strained and weak, “I’ll be...alright in a minute.”

The cop looked taken aback and offended by the vehemence of the reaction. “I was just trying to help,” he offered huffily.

In the study, Petro was still sitting up asleep in the chair, and Professor Blaine was still attempting to read at his desk.

Then, very very slowly, hidden from Professor Blaine by the brim of the black hat, the werecoyote awoke and began to raise his head as he left the world of unconsciousness.

His sharp teeth now poked from under his lips whether he bared them or not, and his face was covered in the coarse tawny hair of the coyote. When he looked around the room, it was with eyes not wide in wondor, but in animal fear and confusion.

Then his eyes found Professor Blaine sitting at his desk.

The werecoyote stood, and Professor Blaine, more asleep than awake at this point, didn’t notice a thing. It wasn’t until the werecoyote was looming directly behind him that he sensed the presence and turned to look, and his expression of shock was met instantly by the werecoyote’s snarl.

The clawed hands struck out and wrapped around Professor Blaine’s neck, shoving him backwards and to the ground.

Outside, a loud crash rang out, and the three men, startled, turned to stare. Professor Fitzgerald exclaimed, “What’s that?”

“Sound like it’d come from the house!” The cop pointed, and the two rushed forward to investigate.

Behind them, with a grin on his face, Doctor Cameron followed at a sedate pace at first, then abandoned the pretense in his excitement to see the results of his plan. As long as he was behind the other two men, he reasoned, he would be safe enough. Professor Fitzgerald led the way to Professor Blaine's front door, and wasted no time in knocking or any other niceties. He just opened the door and ran in, urging the cop to follow him, and led the way down the hall to the study.

He burst through into the study first, and waved for the cop to follow him. “Come in here, there’s something wrong!” he ran in.

The cop rushed through the door after him, and Doctor Cameron, hanging back a safer distance again, came in behind him a few moments later.

When he came through the door, the other two had already crouched behind Professor Blaine’s desk, and the cop stood abruptly, exclaiming, “I’ll say there’s something wrong!” He picked up the phone and dialed speedily, then said once it was answered, “Get me Police Headquarters and make it fast!”

Walking over to stand in front of the desk, Doctor Cameron’s eyes tracked the policeman and the still crouching Professor Fitzgerald, before he carefully reached out for the syringe case that still lay open on the desk, closed it, and slipped it into his coat pocket. He couldn't leave behind any evidence that would point to his involvement.

On the phone, the cop said, “Hello, Sarge? This is Dugan. I got a murder on my beat.” A pause as he listened. “Right away!” He hung up.

Doctor Cameron walked around to the other side of the desk, and looked down at the body that Professor Fitzgerald seemed like he would never leave. His hands had reached out for the open wound on the neck, but had stopped short of touching the mangled flesh or the blood, and now he was just staring, eyes wide, body frozen in shock.

“That’s the work of an animal, not of a human being.” Doctor Cameron said. He needed to establish this idea as soon as he could. He knew the cop was listening.

Now Professor Fitzgerald stood, looking at Doctor Cameron. “What do you know about this?” He demanded.

Doctor Cameron was calm when he replied, “How should I know anything? I was with you.” Then he paused, and pretended to wince, and put his hand to his chest again. Professor Fitzgerald watched the movement with a brow furrowed in anger and upset.

Doctor Cameron said, “Officer, my heart’s beginning to trouble me again. I can’t be any use here, I may as well leave.” His voice was still calm, as though he weren't standing over the violently mauled body of a man he had spoken to less than half an hour before.

“Sure, go ahead.” The cop said without hesitation.

Professor Fitzgerald put his hands behind his back, still staring fixedly at Doctor Cameron, who said, looking down at the body of Professor Blaine, “I can’t pretend to feel any great sorrow, but then," His voice did not change tone, but the venom was there nonetheless, detectable only to Professor Fitzgerald, "My feelings are of no importance one way or the other. Goodnight.” He turned, and left, keeping his hand over his heart still to at least keep up that charade.

Professor Fitzgerald stared after him as he went, then turned back to crouch once more over the body of his friend, as though somehow he could help heal the moral wound.

Some time later, the cop opened the study room door, and greeted a much younger man in a suit with a small salute, and a greeting of, “Howdy, Lieutenant.”

“Hiya.” The young man said, returning the quick salute, just a short tap of his fingers against the brim of his hat, and not actually stopping as he strode into the room, followed by another cop

“I’ve seen a lot of murders in my day, but never as messy as this one!” the first officer exclaimed, following the two new ones as they rounded the desk to see Professor Blaine’s body.

Close on the heels of police charged another young man, pale faced and distressed. It was Tom, the reporter, and he stopped abruptly as he caught sight of the body, and stared, mouth open, face twisting.

He breathed out a deep breath and could only stared in silence, his head slightly turned away as though he wanted to turn around completely.

“This should make a gorey enough story for your paper!” The Lieutenant said, directing his words at Tom.

“More than just a story to me.” Tom said, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off the body. “He was my friend!” His face twisted again, and he convulsively adjusted the brim of his hat, shaking his head and walking to the front of the desk.

For a moment he glanced back over to what lay behind it, then looked away again, face bloodless.

“There was a couple’a collage professors arguing outside and using a lot of big words” the older officer was explaining to his Lieutenant, “They followed me in here, and I heard one of them say that some kind of a dangerous animal done this killing.” He gestured at the body they stood over, and had perfectly taken the bait Doctor Cameron had dangled in front of him.

The lieutenant was more skeptical. “Well how could a dangerous animal be roaming around the city?” He asked.

The older man replied, at a loss, “I dunno, maybe it got away from a zoo or circus or something?”

“I’ll check on that angle.” the Lieutenant said.

Meanwhile, another of Tom’s involuntary glance at the body had caught his eye on something on the desk, and he did a double take, then stared down at it with a frown.

It was the pad of paper Professor Blaine had written, "Note to self: Let Tom know about the old Danfield homestead, 4-5 miles from Ashton" on.

Tom had no idea what it meant, but something told him it was important.

Glancing sharply up at the two policemen to make sure they weren't looking, he reached for the pad and shoved it into his coat pocket. Then muttered to himself aloud without being able to help it, “Ashton, Ashton…” That name rang bells, but it was so late, and he'd not even gotten to sleep yet. Its meaning kept escaping him.

“You talking to me?” The Lieutenant asked.

Tom blinked, then said, lifting a hand to his head, “No, I’m just trying to remember something —" His eyes widened as the pieces slotted together in his mind. "I got it! An AP story came in from Ashton the other day about a—about a child being killed by a weird animal from the swamplands!”

The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘weird animal’?”

Growing excited, Tom said, “A farmer swore it wasn’t human, but that it traveled on two legs, like a man!” It was the only connection he could make.

“Ah, he was crazy or drunk.” The Lieutenant dismissed, “There ain’t no such animal. Anyway, how could he get way up here?”

Tom frowned. That, he had no answer for “I wish I knew….”

[LINEBREAK]

In the swamps around Danfield manner, a coyote howled by itself.

Petro stood, seemingly human, in the dark study room of Doctor Cameron, clutching at the thin curtain covering the garden doors, face twisting with an internal struggle. He was back in his overalls and polka dotted shirt, with his hat nowhere to be seen.

The light suddenly came on in the room, and he spun around.

Lenora came in and went straight to her father’s desk, beginning to rifle through the drawers, clearly for something. She didn't seem to realize she wasn’t alone in the room.

As soon as he saw her, Petro’s mouth drew into a tight line, as though he wanted to bare sharp teeth he no longer had, and, drawing up his shoulders to make himself seem bigger, he stalked slowly across the room, stopping behind her.

She must have heard him, because she spun around, and closed the drawer she’d opened behind her, putting her hands over it like she wanted to hide it. “Oh, Petro! You’ve startled me.” She was secretly relieved it was Petro and not her father.

But that relief quickly changed to worry, because Petro only stared at her in silence, face a dangerous mask.

“W-what’s the matter?” Lenora demanded, “Why do you stare at me like that?”

Petro lifted one of his hands, then the fingers began to fidget, and the spell was abruptly broken.

“I don’t know, Miss Lenora,” He said in his normal voice, “I feel funny.”

Lenora circled so that the desk was no longer behind her, and Petro matched her movements so that he stayed in front of her. He didn't seem to notice her fear. “I smelled something in the mist coming up out of the swamp. Like a voice talking to me, telling me to do something. Something terrible!”

Thoughts flew through Lenora's mind like a whirlwind. “Oh but, that isn’t real! That’s just your imagination!” she said quickly. “You musn’t pay any attention to what that voice seems to be saying!” Her anxiety was plain in her voice, and she stared directly into his eyes, hoping to convince him to listen to her, and not whatever voice he was hearing. She'd known there was something wrong with this place!

Then came the abrupt bark of “Petro!” from the door, and they both turned to see Doctor Cameron, who strode forward quickly to glare up at him, snarling. “What are you doing here? Go to your room! You’ve no right in this part of the house!”

Petro’s jaw worked as Doctor Cameron shouted at him, and rather than his usual bashful docility, he stared in silence. Almost defiant.

“Get out! Immediately!” Doctor Cameron commanded, and when Petro continued to just stare at him, he abruptly lifted a hand and slapped it across Petro’s face with all the force he could muster, shouting as he did, “Wake up, you’re dreaming!”

Petro stumbled as though the slap had been a hammer blow, and turned to look back at Lenora with a baffled expression. He looked back at Doctor Cameron, now with his usual meek expression. “I don’t know what’s come over me.” He said, “I must have a touch of swamp fever.”

“It’s very likely.” Doctor Cameron said with a sharp nod. “Now go to bed and I’ll get something for you.”

“Yes sir.” Petro said, “I’m sorry if I made a nuisance of myself.” He looked downcast as he left the room.

Once he was through the door, Lenora moved closer to her father and demanded, “Daddy, what happened to Petro? I’m terribly afraid.” She was too afraid to even tell him what Petro had said about hearing a voice from the swamp.

But her father just said dismissively, as though he hadn't just been in a rage, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, dear, he just had a touch of fever, that’s all.”

“That was more than fever!” Lenora insisted, “Why, his eyes were the eyes of a wild beast! He was possessed by a demon!” Almost about to give in and tell him about the voice. But his next words made that impossible.

“Now dear, you know there’s no such thing as being possessed by a demon, that’s ignorant superstition.”

She couldn't tell him what Petro had said, he would just dismiss her as hysterical and ignorant, and she hated when he did that. “Well I don’t care what you call it, Daddy!" She exclaimed, "There’s something here that’s evil, it’s real and I can feel it, and I’m afraid.” She lurched forward to clutch at his coat lapels, voice rising. “Dad, I can’t stand it here any longer, let’s get away!”

She'd spent almost the whole night here alone with only the nerve-wracking emptiness of the house and the haunting night sounds to keep her company until she'd decided to sneak into her father's office to figure out what kind of research he was doing exactly.

Doctor Cameron turned his head away as though to avoid her gaze. “I can’t go now dear, I must wait til my work’s finished.” He looked back at her, then gripped her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Pull yourself together, dear.”

She let go of his coat and seemed to deflate, steadying herself. “Oh...I won’t be silly anymore. Nothing must interfere with your work.” Her voice was serious by the end of it, as she pushed back all of her fears and worries and loneliness. She had to remind herself why she was here, which was to support her father. He'd gone through hell after he lost his position at the university, the papers dragging him through the mud. She could put up with some loneliness and nervousness if it meant seeing him happy again.

“You’ve been a very great comfort.” her father said, justifying her resolution, “I know what a terribly lonely life this must be.”

She gave a small smile that was mostly sad, and said, “We won’t talk about it anymore, Dad, I just want you to prove that you’re the greatest scientist in the world.”

He began to smile. “I’ll soon have all the proof they want. I expect the eminent Professor Fitzgerald to pay me a call before long,” His voice began to rise, and he puffed himself up as he got louder, until he was almost shouting: “I‘d be delighted to confound him with scientific facts that he declared were impossible!” Still held by his arms on her shoulders, Lenora’s expression had dropped back into something like alarm.

As abruptly as he had started to shout, Doctor Cameron lowered his voice again, and said gently, “Now you go to bed, dear, eh? Have a good night’s rest.” She gave a smile, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight. I’ll talk to Petro.”

“Goodnight.” She said, pulling away from him to leave the room.

He turned to watch her go, and his expression lost its gentleness as the anxiety he had been keeping under wraps widened his eyes.

In his darkened bedroom, Petro, still in his dayclothes, stared out the window into the dark marsh, his hands up at his chest. Nothing stared back at him except the palms and grasses and mosses. His jaw moved constantly as the minute passed in the night. It seemed like he would stand there forever. Then his eyes suddenly spun, and he pulled away from the window and left the room.

A minute later, Lenora peered through the curtain in her own brightly lit bedroom as the howl of a coyote sounded through the air, and as she stared, she saw Petro’s back disappearing into the darkness of the marsh, his arms twitching at his sides as he shoved his way through the dense foliage. She watched him go, too filled with anxiety to think of how to react.

Unaware that his "guinea pig" had left the house, Doctor Cameron entered Petro's room without knocking and flicked the light on, only to stare around at the room, so small there was nowhere to hide, which was clearly empty. After a moment of shock, he turned the lights off again and went back into the hall.

Out in the swamp, Petro had become the werecoyote again, and snarled to himself as he went through the mist-shrouded trees.

Elsewhere in the marsh, Tom pushed his own way through the woods, following a bumpy dirt road that obviously recent tire tracks hadn't successfully reclaimed from nature yet. He stopped to look around a few times at noises nearby in the shadows, but kept doggedly on.

Then he found what he was looking for: a large house with all the windows still lit up, the walls choked with ivy and surrounded by an overgrown garden and encroaching forest, fitting the description of the Danfield homestead. Even if it hadn't fit the description, he still would have gone up, if only to get directions to the right path.

He found the front door, hurried up the short stairs, and knocked.

When no response came within a few moments, he knocked again. He was not eager to keep standing out in this darkness if he could help it.

The werecoyote tread through the marsh nearby, and seemed to alert to the sound.

But fortunately for Tom, Doctor Cameron came down the stairs from the second floor of the manor and went to answer the door as a third knock came, before the werecoyote could decide to investigate himself.

He opened the door a crack to see who it was at such a late hour, then, when he saw Tom looking back at him, he shook his head in exasperation and opened it fully, allowing Tom to enter.

“Doctor Cameron!” Tom greeted in surprise, taking his hat off as he looked around the entryway, “So, you’re the owner of this haunted castle!”

“What do you mean, ‘haunted castle’?” Doctor Cameron demanded, throwing his hands behind his back severely.

“Well,” Tom explained, holding his hat in his hands, “Maybe I did just have the jitters, but I thought something was prowling around out there.”

Doctor Cameron regarded him for a moment with an inscrutable expression. “Did you see anything?” he finally asked.

Tom said, “No, and I’m not even positive I heard anything.” He wriggled his shoulders expressively. “I got just a feeling.”

“Heh, that’s not very definite.” Doctor Cameron said, almost mockingly.

Tom laughed nervously, and smiled awkwardly, but Doctor Cameron said nothing else, making it very difficult to relieve the tension.

“Tom!” The sudden sound of Lenora’s voice surprised him, and she came hurriedly down the stairs to embrace him with a laugh and a grin while her father stared on angrily. “Ah, it’s good to see you!" She exclaimed, "Can you ever forgive me for going off without saying goodbye?” She didn’t pull away from the hug after it probably should have ended, but stayed right where she was, her hands on his arm, smiling widely.

“That doesn’t matter now that I’ve found you.” Tom grinned back, very happy to have her in his arms.

“I see no reason for rejoicing.” Doctor Cameron said flatly, spoiling their happy reunion.

The smile fell from Lenora’s face. “Dad!” She scolded, looking over her shoulder at him as she and Tom finally lowered their arms from eachother.

Her father's anger was not to be denied. “I buried myself in this out of the way place so that I could work undisturbed, away from snooping reporters who only ridicule what they have not the intelligence to understand!” His tone was scathing.

Tom and Lenora stared at him for a moment, then Tom said, truthfully, “I had no thought of ridicule in coming here.”

“I’m not interested in your reasons for coming,” Doctor Cameron's voice was cold, “But I would like to know how you happened to find your way here.”

“I found a message from Doctor Blaine, after he was killed.” Tom explained.

Lenora stared in shock. This was the first time she'd heard this news. “Doctor Blaine, killed? Oh, how terrible!”

Her father stared at Tom for a moment like his daughter wasn't there, his mouth open as though he wanted to say something, but then he said only, “Yes, apparently he was killed by some animal.”

As he said this, Lenora’s gaze darted from him to Tom, the frown never leaving her face.

Tom lifted his hat in a gesture towards Doctor Cameron. “You knew about it?” he asked.

Doctor Cameron, his hands behind his back, said, “I was with Professor Fitzgerald when it happened, and I saw him right afterwards.”

Tom lowered his arm and looked at the floor, remembering the horrible sight of Professor Blaine's body.

Doctor Cameron inquired, “What was the message?”

“A memorandum, to tell me about this old plantation.” Tom said, gesturing around as he swept the large entry hall with his gaze again.

“So he meant to betray my confidence.” Doctor Cameron said sharply. “Just as he did before!”

“Well, I don’t believe Doctor Blaine had any such thought in mind.” Tom said lightly.

“I don’t care what you profess to believe!” Doctor Cameron snapped, “You belong to a profession that’s obnoxious to me, and you’re not welcome here!”

“Dad!” Lenora protested, “I want—”

“Be quiet!” Her father commanded.

“I won’t be quiet!” she countered, “Now, I’ve stayed here because I thought you needed me, but I won’t have you treat Tommy like this!”

At mention of his name, Tom put a hand on her arm. “Naw, don’t get upset on my account, things’ll turn out alright!” He'd been happy to see her standing up to her father, but had assumed she was doing it on her own behalf, not his. He didn't want to cause problems for her. She turned to look at him, still frowning, as he addressed her father, saying simply, “I suppose you have a right to your own opinion. Goodnight.”

He turned to leave, reaching for the door, but this time Lenora stopped him. “Tom, wait. Don’t go now, wait til daylight.” There was a sharp insistence in her voice that wasn't due solely to wanting to see him.

“Why?” he asked, looking at her with concern.

She stepped closer. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Doctor Cameron had been staring stonily at the floor, but now he looked up as his daughter answered.

“Oh, I don’t know, exactly, but there’s something dangerous that prowls around in the dark. I wish you wouldn’t take this trip alone.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Tom said bravely, willing to put up with all kinds of things that went bump in the night if it meant she wouldn't get in trouble with her father, “If I meet anything I can’t grip, I can do a swell job of running.” He put his hands on her arms reassuringly. “I’ll be around tomorrow, whistling at your front gate.” He chuckled. “If you have a front gate." It might have been swallowed up by the hedges. "Goodnight.”

He turned to leave with a smile, but Lenora grabbed his arm again. “I wish you’d wait til morning!”

Tom looked at her, then past her to her father’s dark expression, and the smile fell from his face. He really did not want to make her father any angrier than he already was. Especially not if any of the vague ideas racing around in his mind were even remotely correct. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” he said. “Goodnight.” He opened the door, and this time Lenora didn’t stop him.

“Goodnight.” She said belatedly, when he’d already gone through. The door shut behind him, and she hurriedly opened it again a little to watch him as he disappeared past the reach of the lights and into the dark.

Her father strode away behind her, heading for the door to his study, and, unbeknownst to her, his laboratory.

But before he could get too far, she turned away from the door and stopped him with a call of “Dad.”

He turned, and she closed the door and moved to stand in front of him. “If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive you.” She looked up at him resolutely. It was his fault Tom was out there on his own now in those haunted woods. It was his fault they were even out here in the first place.

But her father just glared, refusing to accept the accountability. “He has no business to come here!” He snapped, “I’m not responsible for his wellfare!”

Without another word he went into his study, and after a moment, Lenora spun on her heel and went back up the stairs.

[LINEBREAK]

Out in the marsh, the werecoyote wandered, barking warnings him himself and growling as he navigated a wavering, wild path through the crowded plants.

Bewildered and almost lost, Tom wandered too, unable to find his way back to the road in the dark. He had taken just a few wrong steps to avoid a thorny blackberry bush that the car tires hadn't managed to beat into submission, and just a few steps after that, he'd found himself completely turned around. Every direction he looked he saw nothing but the same misty trees, impossible to tell apart.

The werecoyote continued his lonely prowl through the same forest, letting out periodic barks, whose purpose even he wasn't sure of.

In the house of the farmers who had lost their daughter, a knock sounded on the door, and the man, holding a lantern and in his nightshirt, went to answer it quickly. These days they slept lightly, and not by choice. It seemed like every night sound was the tread of the monster that had killed their baby girl.

When the man opened the door, Tom stood illuminated in the threshhold, hat on his head. “Hi! Sorry to bother you at this time of night,” He said in a friendly voice, “But I’ve lost my way.” It was just luck that he'd noticed the small cabin at all in the dark.

“Come on in,” The man said, and Tom took his hat off as he did so. The man nodded at the small round table and invited firmly, “Sit down!”

He locked the wooden door before he came over to the table himself, and sat the lantern in the center. “You’re a fool to be travelling around by yourself at night like this when the mist comes up from the swamplands!” He exclaimed as he sat, but his tone was anxious, not angry.

Tom sat his hat on the table too. “Oh, you mean the mysterious night-prowler that’s got everyone’s imagination working overtime?” He asked cheerfully, putting on a brave front.

“That ain’t imagination with me, mister.” The man said, and Tom tilted his head. The man continued, voice trembling, “That thing killed my little girl.”

The smile fell from Tom’s face in dismay. “Sorry, I...I wouldn’ta joked if I’d known.”

“It scared Jed Harper so bad, he went and got religion.” Was the man's only response, and this seemed to be his way of accepting the apology.

“Well, hey—” Tom scooted his chair closer. “Can you give me some facts about this killer? What does it look like?” This was his first chance to interview any real witnesses, and he couldn't believe his luck on stumbling into this home of all the ones he could have.

The man answered, “No one can tell you that for sure, mister, because it never prowls only on nights like this when the mist is thick, and nothing can be seen very plain. Jed Harper said it traveled on two legs, but you can’t count on that, ‘cause Jed was scared half out of his mind. Besides, the mist was extra thick that night.” He looked at the lantern, still glowing where it on the table, then looked back at Tom. “You better stay here the rest of the night, mister. I can’t offer you a bed, but I’ll make you as comfortable as I can.”

“Well thank you very much!” Tom said.

At the Danfield house, Doctor Cameron opened the garden door of his study to look out on the mist-ladden marsh, and saw the familiar figure of the werecoyote, headed around the side towards the lab’s outer door.

He hurried to his lab to grab the riding crop from where he'd thrown it before, opened the outer and inner doors with the switches on the wall, then stood back to wait.

The werecoyote did not hesitate before entering the house again, and only stopped when he was in front of Doctor Cameron. He flexed his clawed hands and growled, but made no move forward. It was clear that he remembered the pain of a whip could inflict, and wasn't eager to experience it again.

Doctor Cameron regarded him coldly, and said, “If I have to keep you in a cage, you’re of no further use to me; if you revert without my knowledge and become dangerous. I haven’t thought of that possibility.” He raised his voice to a command. “On your couch, Petro!”

The werecoyote snarled.

“Down!” Doctor Camoran snapped.

The werecoyote cringed slightly, then moved backwards to sit down on the couch like he had before, keeping his gaze firmly and warily locked on the riding crop.

Doctor Cameron went to the electric wall panel to shut the powered door, and didn't bother to look out to check that the outer door had closed properly. It had every time before now, and he still had a dangerous werecoyote to deal with. So he wasn't aware of the fact that a tree branch had fallen into the path of the door, preventing it from closing completely.

The outer wall of the house was so crowded with trees and shrubs that it was a miracle this hadn't been a problem before now, but it was practically inevitable.

Doctor Cameron did not have his switches set to any alarms to warn him if they were obstructed, they simply went in the direction the switch signaled. Whether they actually managed to close or open properly because of blockages had never been taken into consideration once he'd gotten them moving the first time.

The doors, he thought, shut, Doctor Cameron went to his shelves, threw the whip onto the floor in its usual spot, but this time, rather than grabbing the the syringe of antidote, he instead picked up a gun. It was a small gun, easily hidden, easily fitting into the palm of his hand. But you didn't need a big gun to kill anyone, not even a werecoyote. It was the bullet that did all the real work.

The werecoyote had been looking down at his own clawed hands, but when Doctor Camoran turned back to him and he saw the gun, he flinched, then snarled with renewed rage and fear.

When Doctor Cameron spoke, he seemed to be speaking only to himself, rather than the werecoyote he held at gunpoint. His voice was low as he thought aloud, “No...I couldn’t disappoint Professor Fitzgerald...”

Without any aknowledgement that the werecoyote had recognized the gun and seen his intent to murder him, Doctor Cameron spun back to his shelves, put the gun back, and picked up the syringe of antidote. Behind him, the werecoyote went back to staring down at his own clawed and furry hands.

Then Doctor Cameron spun back, the syringe brandished. “Get down, Petro, down!” He commanded, and shoved the werecoyote flat, putting a knee on his chest to pin him down as he injected the antidote.

A few short minutes passed, and Petro awoke on the couch, with Doctor Cameron staring down at him.

Petro sat up slowly, blinking in groggy confusion. “Did I walk in my sleep again?” He asked.

A flat, “Yes.” Was all Doctor Camoran bothered to offer.

Petro stood, rising to his full height above the man he looked up to so much, and asked plaintively, “Doc, ain’t there some way you can cure me of doing that?”

“I’m afraid not.” Doctor Camoran said, “It may be necessary to lock you up at night, after this.”

Petro was perturbed by this news. “It don’t seem fair to lock a man up just like he were an animal.” he said sadly, then went around Doctor Cameron, and left the lab without another word.

[LINEBREAK]

Back at the farmer’s house, they'd received another guest: a man in overalls with balding head sat at the table between the homeowner and Tom, reporting, “...home with a jug under his arm last night, found him in the swamp this morning. He’ll never lift another jug.”

Behind him stood the lady of the house, and sitting by the empty fireplace was the old woman.

“Was he murdered?” Tom asked.

“Yup,” the newcomer replied, “And he wasn’t a pretty sight to look at neither.”

“There must be some natural explanation for this thing you’re talking about.” Tom said thoughtfully.

Behind them all, the old woman stood and moved to the table, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s a werewolf!” she said, in a way that said she'd repeated this many times, “Can’t kill him no way except by a silver bullet!”

“I can’t see myself giving that story to the city editor,” Tom said in response, “He’d throw me right out on my rear.”

The man next to him looked down at the notebook he held, then said, “That killer ain’t human. You’d know that from one look at the body.” He was neither agreeing with or denying the old woman's assertion.

Tom frowned thoughtfully, then said, “I saw a victim of just such an attack. I wonder if there could be a possibility of any connection between them.”

“I’ve been telling you all along!” The old woman raised her voice, “It’s the form of a human who’s sold his soul to the devil! In the light of day he walks like any other man on the Earth. At night, he takes on the form of a wolf!”

[LINEBREAK]

The sun had fully risen over the marsh and all the homes within in by the time Doctor Cameron pulled aside the curtain in his bedroom to glare out into the front garden.

Tom’s voice could be heard as he questioned Petro, “Then you’d never heard of any killings by strange animals around here until two weeks ago?”

Today Petro was in his normal outfit, minus his hat, which was clutched in his hands. Tom was in the suit he’d slept in last night, and Lenora wore a vest over a striped shirt.

Petro looked at Lenora pleadingly. “Why does he keep asking me all them questions?”

“Well, all newspaper men are like that,” Lenora said cheerfully, “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” She patted Petro on the shoulder in reassurance. “Well you go ahead, he won’t bother you any more.” She looked meaningfully over at Tom as she said it, making it clear that he wasn't to bother Petro any more.

Petro put his hat back on as the other two began to walk away, and got back to weeding the garden.

Doctor Cameron came out the front door and let it slam behind him, watching his daughter and Tom from a distance.

Lenora and Tom had wandered away to the shade of a large oak tree, too far away for Doctor Cameron to hear.

Tom said, “Lenora, you must give some thought to your own safety, and keep in mind — there’s no normal reason for Doctor Cameron to hide away in a place like this, unless…” He trailed off.

“Unless what?” she said sharply.

He adjusted his hat, then stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Oh, nothing. Forget it.”

“Don’t avoid the question!” Lenora was angry, “What were you going to say?”

Tom looked at her, then said plainly, “Lenora, I believe your father knows something about that creature responsible for the horrible killings in this vicinity. And I think the same creature killed Professor Blaine.” He looked around when he said the word 'vicinity' to indicate the house and the surrounding woods and marsh.

Lenora was shocked. “Well that’s a terrible thing for you to say! I didn’t expect you to join the chorus against him!” She glared in hurt, defensive betrayal.

“Oh, I hope I’m wrong.” Tom said hurriedly, putting his hands on her shoulders, “But, I’ll do everything I can to learn the truth no matter where it leads.”

Doctor Camoran stormed down the wooden porch stairs, and strode over, unable to stand letting them talk alone a moment longer. There was no telling what kind of poisonous slander Tom was putting in his daughter's ears.

He strode over forcefully, holding out a hand for Tom to shake in a way that couldn't be denied. “Good morning, young man.” He said, “Very glad to see you, I wanted to apologize for the way I talked to you last night.”

Lenora’s eyes grew exaggeratedly wide as she looked from her father to Tom, as though daring him to question her father’s integrity now.

Tom seemed shocked and abashed. “Oh, well, that’s alright.” He said awkwardly as Lenora’s eyebrows raised higher, and a smile crept onto her face, “I can understand how you must feel about the newspapers.” He offered.

“They didn’t, what you call, hang onto their punches.” Doctor Camoran said with a little laugh.

“Pull their punches,” Tom corrected, He put his hands in his pockets, and by this time Lenora was grinning at them both. Tom continued, “I know, they gave you quite a ride, but I didn’t write any of that stuff.” He'd told Doctor Cameron this before, but the man had always seemed to forget. Up until now he'd seemed determined to hate Tom no matter what he did.

“Oh, I know, I know,” Doctor Camoran said this time, shocking everyone there except for himself, “That’s why I’m so sorry, the way I received you.” Tom grinned through his surprise and disbelief, and Doctor Camoran added, “If you’re interested in scientific research, I’d be glad sometime to show you what I’ve accomplished.”

Tom looked at the ground, nervous and embarrassed, then smiled again. “Well thanks, Doc, that’s very nice.” He said.

Doctor Camoran said, without much change of expression, “Now if you’ll pardon me, I’ll leave Lenora to entertain you.” He patted her on the shoulder, then walked away, his daughter smiling after him.

Tom could only say, to the quickly retreating back, a confused, “Okay...”

Lenora turned to face him, and her her voice was filled with happy gloating. “That doesn’t sound like he has a secret to hide, does it?” she asked.

“Why, no!” Tom exclaimed, still staring off after her father in shock, “And I never before was so glad to be wrong!”

Doctor Cameron paused once on the stairs to look back at them, once again unable to hear what they were saying, then continued into the house, only able to hope that he'd successfully directed the reporter's attention away from him.

A man who was happy to share his work with the world was not a man likely to be secretly using that work for murder, and he kicked himself for not realizing that before. He'd let his anger and jealousy cloud his planning. He would have to keep it in more careful check from now on.

[LINEBREAK]

It was night again when a dark-suited figure came up the porch steps of Danfield Manor and knocked on the front door.

Lenora came down the stairs to the entryway and went to open the door. When she saw who it was waiting outside, she exclaimed in delight, “Oh, Professor Fitzgerald!” she opened the door fully to let him in, and asked, “How in the world did you find your way down here?”

Tonight she was wearing a black and white long sleeved shirt, and a black knee-length skirt.

Professor Fitzgerald smiled when he saw her. He might have looked at her father with all due contempt, but Lenora was a perfect angel, and he couldn't hold her father's faults against her.

“Hello, Lenora.” he said with a friendly tone, taking off his hat to be polite. “Your father wrote, asking me to come. Is he here?”

“Yes,” Lenora said with a smile, “And he’ll be very happy to see one of his old friends!”

Professor Fitzgerald did not have time to react to what she'd said, because it was then that Doctor Cameron left his study room and came to the door to vigorously shake Professor Fitzgerald’s hand and say, “Ah, Fitzgerald!” while Professor Fitzgerald greeted with a short, “Doctor”, too surprised, and upset by Cameron's presence, to say anything more.

Lenora was somehow under the impression that Professor Fitzgerald and her father were still perfect friends, and Professor Fitzgerald had no idea how she'd come to such a blatantly false idea of the situation. Hadn't she read the papers where he'd denounced her father's ridiculous theories? The man had gone certifiably off the deep end, touting absurd theories that no sane man could ever dream of, and had responded abominably to even the smallest criticisms, which had just led to more and more anger and outrage on both sides. Professor Fitzgerald had once respected and even admired Doctor Cameron, but that had all shattered in the wake of Cameron's disgraceful theories and his behavior when they were rightfully criticized.

Hadn't Lenora's father made his new hatred for all his old friends clear to her? He'd sure made it clear to them before he'd stormed off and disappeared out here to the middle of nowhere.

But Doctor Cameron did not care about any of Professor Fitzgerald's worries or confusion, and he continued on talking, as though nothing was wrong or strange at all, “Such an unexpected honor! I hardly dared hope that you’d accept my invitation.” He said these words as though they didn't both know he hated Professor Fitzgerald's guts.

Lenora grinned at the two of them as they shook hands again, and Professor Fitzgerald said, suddenly aware of how badly he would look if he expressed the real anger he felt, he puffed up his chest a little and said, “If you’ve made a worthwhile scientific discovery, I want to be the first to congratulate you.

If Doctor Cameron was going to put on a show of civility and professionalism in front of his daughter, then Professor Fitzgerald could do the same.

“I would be delighted to give you that opportunity.” Doctor Camoran said, any Professor Fitzgerald was aware that the irony was directed solely at him.

It flew completely over Lenora's head, as evidenced by her next words, and the cheerful tone in which she said them: “The things you two have to talk over are way over my head, so I’ll leave you alone.”

That was probably for the best, but Professor Fitzgerald felt he needed to protest, if only jokingly, so she'd know he still cared about her. “Aw, now don’t run away, I promise to limit myself to words of two syllables!”

He and Lenora shared a laugh, but he noted Doctor Cameron’s expression remained just as serious as before, despite the facade of cheer he'd put on.

“That’d take all the fun out of the discussion!” Lenora sent back, and put a carefree hand on Professor Fitzgerald’s arm. “I’ll see you after a while.”

And with another innocent smile, she turned and left him alone with Doctor Cameron.

The man wasted no time, and immediately asked, “Shall we go into the lab?”

“If you wish!” Professor Fitzgerald said, suddenly wanting to get it all over with already. He followed Doctor Cameron into his study, then, to his surprised, continued across it, where a cabinet swung away from the wall, revealing a secret room, lined with stone, with shelves and workbenches lined with vials, jars, and other scientific instruments. Some of them were familiar to Professor Fitzgerald, others were strange and new. He looked around in curiosity.

Still chained up and locked in its cage, the coyote snarled as Doctor Cameron locked the hidden door behind them.

“You’re very secretive about your work.” Professor Fitzgerald observed, holding his hat in his hands and placing them behind his back.

“I have to be, to keep out intruders.” Doctor Cameron said. The implication did not go over Professor Fitzgerald's head, but he didn't fall for it.

Instead he swiveled his head to look around the lab again, then said, trying to keep up a front of civility, since it was at least less stressful than trading insults, “You seem to be excellently equipped.”

“Well, the tools are the first requisite of good work.” was Doctor Cameron’s reply, then he abruptly gestured at one of the chairs around the small table in the center of the room. “Sit down.” It seemed less like an invitation, and more like a command.

But Professor Fitzgerald didn't argue. “Alright.” He said. He glanced around the room again, suddenly feeling nervous as he put his hat on the table and sat in the indicated chair.

Doctor Cameron came around in front of him, laid a small pocket notebook open on the table, and tapped it with a pencil. It was upside down, and the small writing seemed to have been done in an unfamiliar shorthand. Professor Fitzgerald couldn't read it.

Doctor Cameron leaned forward as he began speaking. “I’ve discovered that certain, extremely volatile elements in the blood are little more than particles of electrical energy, our source of all physical growth and mentality by exciting the various glands and brain cells.” His eyes grew wild and wide as he stared down at Professor Fitzgerald. “I’ve learned how to extract and concentrate these elements from the blood of various animals.”

Professor Fitzgerald stared back at him warily, and said nothing. He could think of nothing to say that wouldn't turn this visit into another viscous fight.

“I can control evolution.” Doctor Cameron continued, “I’ve discovered the source of life!”

“You’re crazy.” Professor Fitzgerald said flatly. He couldn't help it, though he tried.

Doctor Cameron’s face broke into a twisted grin, and he chuckled. “That has a familiar ring." He said, "You told the newspapers I was crazy once, didn’t you?” He stared down at Professor Fitzgerald.

“I didn’t know that you invited me here to reopen an old controversy that was very disagreeable to all concerned.” Professor Fitzgerald said, “I came with the hope that you’d abandoned impossible theories and accomplished something worthy of consideration.”

This only made Doctor Cameron raise his voice. “And I suppose you feel yourself whole competent to judge my accomplishments, you and your high-browed associates, Hatfield, Warwick, and Blaine.” A new smile twisted his features and he said thoughtfully, venomously, “No, not Blaine, he no longer is passing judgment on my sanity.” He closed the mysterious notebook he’d opened on the table, then went over to a row of drawers on the wall near the door, behind Professor Fitzgerald.

He had to turn to follow Doctor Cameron with his gaze, leaning an arm over the back of the chair. “I believe you know something about Blaine’s death!” he said sharply, suddenly. No longer able to hold back his suspicions, “You were at his house!”

Doctor Cameron turned to look at him from where he stood in front of the shelves. “You talked to him on the telephone, before I came to your house.” He reminded, “Did he say then that he was in any danger of losing his life?”

“No,” Professor Fitzgerald was forced to admit, “Nothing threatened him at that time.” He put emphasis on "that" time.

“And I was with you when he was killed.” Doctor Cameron added. Then he moved around back to the front of the table, forcing Professor Fitzgerald to twist again to follow him as he said, “You pride yourself on not indulging in fantastic theories—” He leaned his hands on the table. “What proof have you that I was in any way implicated in Blaine’s death?”

Professor Fitzgerald hesitated. “I...have no definite proof.” He finally said. He hated to admit it.

Doctor Cameron's eyes blazed. “You accuse me of being crazy because of what I’ve claimed to have accomplished with this apparatus, but I can give you overwhelming proof of what I say!" He leaned forward, one hand a fist on the table, the other behind his back. "I can inject into your veins a substance that will give you the strength of ten men!”

Professor Fitzgerald leaned away in his chair, as though moving physically away would prevent the idea from closing in.

Doctor Cameron straightened, and continued scornfully, “Or, following the line of evolution, how would you like a pair of donkey’s ears?” He swept his coat back to put his hands in his pants pockets and laughed. “That’d go well with your type of mentality!” But the smile fell from his face almost as soon as he'd finished speaking, and he scowled as he strode to stand near the door again.

Professor Fitzgerald had had enough. He snatched his hat off the table, and stood abruptly from the chair. “I certainly will not be the subject of any of your experiments!” He said firmly, moving towards the door, which Doctor Cameron stood blocking, "I’m afraid it’s useless for us to continue this discussion any further.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Doctor Cameron asked with false innocence.

“I see no reason for staying.” Professor Fitzgerald retorted, and pointed towards the switch on the wall. “Open that secret panel.”

Doctor Cameron looked in the direction he’d pointed, and after a moment, flicked the switch. The secret door began to swing open. “So you don’t care to stay to be convinced that you were wrong.” he said, standing back from the opened door so Professor Fitzgerald could pass him and go out.

“I don’t care to be ridiculed by a charlatan.” Professor Fitzgerald said with a glare.

But Doctor Cameron just smiled mockingly, “Ah, ridicule, that isn’t pleasant, is it? I know from experience.”

Both stood with their hands folded behind their backs, Professor Fitzgerald holding his hat. He said firmly, “I had nothing to do with that! It wasn’t my fault if the public treated your crazy theories with the ridicule it deserved.”

He brushed past Doctor Cameron and out the secret door into the study, and Doctor Cameron waited a moment where he was, then turned to watch him go out the study doors.

Professor Fitzgerald put his hat on as he stood inside the front door to the manor, about to open it and leave, when behind him the call of, “Fitzgerald!” stopped him.

He turned to look as Doctor Cameron rushed toward him. "Well?" He demanded.

“Would you do me a favor?” Doctor Cameron had the gall to ask. He once again spoke like nothing was the matter between them at all. It was infuriating.

“Well, what is it?” Professor Fitzgerald’s tone was brusque.

“I have to send my hired man into town. You mind taking him with you?” The nerve.

But Professor Fitzgerald wasn't angry enough to be spiteful for the sake of spite. “Alright.” He said curtly, with a short nod. “I can do that without any trouble.” Like with Lenora, he had nothing against Doctor Cameron's servants. It was only the mad fool himself he had a problem with.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Doctor Cameron said with sickeningly false gratitude, “If you’ll wait in the car, I’ll get him out to you in a few minutes.”

Professor Fitzgerald said nothing more, just paused a moment to see if Doctor Cameron would add anything else, then opened the door and stepped out into the night, closing the old wooden door gently behind him.

Doctor Cameron smiled to himself as he went off back into the depths of house.

A few minutes later, Professor Fitzgerald was standing waiting out by his car, and watched Doctor Cameron escort Petro, once again in his tweed suit, forward.

“Now get in the car, Petro,” He said audibly as they got nearer, “Don’t keep Professor Fitzgerald waiting!”

Professor Fitzgerald couldn't help but complain as he opened the front passenger door and climbed in, sliding himself across to the driver's side. “I should have known this trip would be a waste of time.”

Doctor Cameron leaned down to speak through the window at him. “I still hope to give you proof that you can’t ignore!”

Back on the porch, Lenora came out the front door, and stood, waiting, at the top of the steps.

Petro climbed into the back seat, and shut the door behind him.

Doctor Cameron said, as the car’s engine started, “Remember me to Hatfield and Warwick when you see them again.”

Professor Fitzgerald said nothing, he just drove away.

Smirking, Doctor Cameron turned back to the house.

When he got to the steps, Lenora asked, “Why did Professor Fitzgerald leave so soon?”

Doctor Cameron looked in the direction the car had gone off to. “He wasn’t impressed by the possibilities of my line of research.” He said simply.

Lenora put her hands on his shoulders, “Oh, don’t be disappointed,” She said, “That’s no credit to his intelligence. You’re a great scientist, and someday you’re going to startle the world!”

“You’re right dear,” He said, “I’ll startle the world!” Then he turned abruptly away from her and went inside, leaving her first staring after him, then out into the darkness.

[LINEBREAK]

The car containing Petro and Professor Fitzgerald rushed along the dark road.

In the marshy forest nearby, Tom and seven local men, all of them armed with hunting rifles, searched the forest while a lone coyote howled.

The searchers convened briefly in a small clearing, then traded some gestures and went in the direction of the howling.

On the road, Professor Fitzgerald drove, while Petro sat in the back seat, looking out the window.

In his laboratory, Doctor Cameron picked up the empty syringe he’d left on the table, and laughed as he held up the bottle containing the serum he had injected Petro with once again.

In the back seat of the car, Petro began to fall asleep, his head nodding forward onto his chest. Only a few swipes of the windshield wipers passed before the werecoyote lifted his head, teeth more pronounced than ever, face overflowing with the tawny fur.

He regained his wits faster than he ever had, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sillowet of Professor Fitzgerald in the front seat. He leaned forward sealthily, then lunged with a snarl, his hands reaching for the Professor’s throat to hold him still as he opened his mouth wide to bite down.

The car’s tires screeched as it went out of control, and in the woods nearby, the search party jumped then froze, staring in the direction the new sound had come.

“Hey, that sounded like it came from over there!” Tom said, pointing towards the road.

Nearby, through the mist, barking his warnings to himself, the werecoyote came quickly, carrying Professor Fitzgerald over his shoulders like a sack as he ducked under creepers and ropes of moss. Almost no time had passed since the car had crashed, but he had acted quickly.

The search party came closer, with nothing to guide them but the sound of the crash, Tom saying, “I can’t see a thing!”

Unaware of the approaching danger, still growling and barking to himself, the werecoyote kept walking, peering through the mist as though in search of something that no one else would ever know.

Suddenly the he became visible to the search party, and one man shouted, “Look!”, while others gasped. The mist had parted enough to plainly show the werecoyote amidst the trees with a body thrown over his back.

As one, they all charged forward.

The werecoyote spent a few more seconds unaware that he had been spotted, and continued to hesitantly peer through the mist. But the crashing of the large group ahead of him drew his attention, and he saw the men charging forward.

He snarled and growled, and let Professor Fitzgerald drop from his shoulders and onto the ground behind him.

Then he turned, and ran back into the mist as fast as he could.

The searchers converged on the thing they'd seen him drop, and it was Tom who cried out in revelation, “Professor Fitzgerald!”

“He dead?” One of the men demanded.

“No, alive, but unconscious!” Tom said quickly, “Where can we take him?”

“We can take him over to my place,” The man who’d lost his daughter said, “But the old Danfield place is handier.”

“We’ll take him there.” Tom said, and looked down at the Professor again in worry. “I don’t know how badly he’s hurt.” He looked up again, “One of you men, go for a doctor!”

One man nodded and ran off, and Tom said, “Come on, give me a hand! Take it easy, fellas.” as the rest leapt to lift the unconscious Professor Fitzgerald from the ground.

[LINEBREAK]

Lenora found her father in his office, staring out the window. He turned, startled when he heard her coming.

She came up to him, and said, “Dad, please come to dinner? You know I don’t like to eat alone.” With Petro gone, it was only her and her father in the whole house, all by themselves. He'd hired no one else, and hadn't let any of her friends visit her. She'd been hoping that Professor Fitzgerald would stay to eat with them, but to her disappointment, he'd left almost as soon as he'd come in.

The dining room still had its original table, which had been designed to hold a dozen people at the least, and she hated sitting at it by herself. It made the aching loneliness of the house so pronounced it bordered on the absurd.

She hoped a gentle reminder would convince her father to come and eat with her, but he just put a hand to his throat and said, “No, I’m not very hungry. You go ahead with your meal.” As though the whole problem weren't that she was eating alone.

She tried another track. “Are you feeling discouraged because Professor Fitzgerald was..." She hesitated. "Unsympathetic?”

He chuckled sardonically, surprising her with his next words: “Fitzgerald’s opinion is of very little value.”

Outside their front door, the mist was thick, and the night dark. If you'd been standing there, the voices of the approaching men would have been audible before they were visible through the thick fog, a noisy crowd of overlapping instructions and encouragement— “Get ready—, “Yeah—” “While I lift—”

Tom jumped ahead to get the door open as the other began to carefully lift the unconcious Professor Fitzgerald up the short flight of porch stairs. He grabbed the brass knocker above the door and hit it against the wood.

In Doctor Cameron’s office, they heard the knocking and both turned to look. But Lenora just smiled at her father, put a hand on his arm, and said, in response to his dismissal of Professor Fitzgerald's opinion, “Alright."

Then she moved off to answer the door, assuming that he wouldn't be happy to see any more visitors in himself after his disappointment, no matter how he tried to conceal it.

Just as her hand was reaching to open it, the knock came again. She opened the door wide, and Tom practically spun in in his effort to both move forward and look behind himself at the same time. “Come on in!” he immediately called out the door.

Lenora immediately pulled the door open wider to admit whoever he was beckoning to. “Tom? What happened?” she asked in worry.

“I found Professor Fitzgerald, badly hurt!” Tom explained in a rush as the rest of the men came through the wide doorway, supporting the unconscious professor in their arms.

“Oh, bring him in!” Lenora said, though the group was halfway through the door, “Take him upstairs!” The group immediately complied.

Her father had finally emerged from his study, and was watching the events with narrowed eyes. He made no move forward, to help or hinder.

“He’s another victim of that mysterious werewolf, or whatever it is.” Tom said to Lenora as they went up the stairs, followed by Doctor Cameron’s silent gaze as they followed the group of men carrying the unconcious Professor. They pressed close to those in front, trying to help them keep their balance. Only Doctor Cameron remained on the ground floor, staring and silent.

He waited until the group was fully out of sight on the second floor, then, slowly, he followed them up.

When the men carrying the Professor reached the top of the stairs and met the wide hallway, Lenora darted forward and squeezed past them to open the nearest bedroom door, which was hers, calling hurriedly, “In here!”

They all followed her through, careful not to bump or jostle the Professor any more than necessary. Tom ran to the end to help lift the Professor's feet.

And silently behind them, almost like a predatory animal himself, Doctor Cameron trailed, just far enough back that no one noticed him. As he went through last, Tom kicked the door shut behind him.

Doctor Cameron stood outside this closed door and leaned toward it, holding one ear just inches from the old wood.

Inside the room, they had laid Professor Cameron down on Lenora's bed, and most of them moved back as she adjusted the pillow under his head and anxiously examined him.

“One of the men went after a doctor,” Tom said in a sudden rush, clutching his hat in front of him, “He should be here before long.”

Outside the door, Doctor Cameron stood, still listening.

“Nothing more we can do here, so we’ll keep hunting for that killer.” One of the farmers said, and Doctor Cameron’s brows twitched into a frown.

“You don’t need to come down with us, ma’am, we can find out way out.” Another farmer's voice said.

Now Doctor Cameron moved. He opened the door and stepped through, directly into the path of the leaving farmers, who had to stop to avoid running into him. He stood almost toe to toe with one of them.

“Evening, sir.” Said the man in the lead. It was the man who’d lost his daughter. He inclined his head towards the bed, and his only justification for invading the home was, “That devil got another victim.” He didn't think he needed to justify helping an injured man. If his home had had enough space, he would be happy to help himself. If it had occurred to him that Doctor Cameron might not think the same way, he gave no hint of it in his tone or expression, which were as friendly as they could be, in light of the dire circumstances.

“Yes, so I see.” Was all Doctor Cameron said to acknowledge the incident, and moved past the farmers and into the room. Without another word they filed out as Doctor Cameron went to stand next to Tom and Lenora at the side of the bed.

Tom looked between the injured man on the bed, and the one now standing next to him. Then he said, pointedly, “I was surprised to see Professor Fitzgerald in this neighborhood.”

Doctor Cameron spent a moment staring down at Professor Fitzgerald, then said, offering no other explanation, “He came to see me.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes searching over the bloody wounds on the neck and face. “How badly is he hurt?”

“I don’t know yet, we’ll find out as soon as the doctor gets here.” Tom said, as he and Lenora both leaned forward too, seemingly without noticing.

Then Tom’s eyes went to the side as a sudden thought occurred to him, and he said, “If he regains consciousness, we’ll find out who, or what, committed these horrible killings.” His eyebrows raised slightly, and he turned to look at Doctor Cameron, who looked up to meet his gaze. Lenora stared at him.

But almost immediately, Tom lowered his eyes back down to Professor Fitzgerald. He'd not spoken what he was really thinking out loud. He didn't want another fight with Lenora.

Doctor Cameron said into the dark silence that fell over the gloomy room. “Yes. It’ll be very interesting to see what he has to say.”

[LINEBREAK]

Out in the mist, the lone coyote howled, and the werecoyote stood, shifting and hesitating, outside the outer door to Doctor Cameron’s laboratory. He stood in front of the hedges that mostly hid the door from view, not wanting to have to crouch under them the entire time he waited.

He looked around and shifted from foot to foot, waiting anxiously for the door to open to let him back inside. Then he looked again towards the door, and his eyes suddenly zeroed in on the branch that had fallen into gap, keeping the door partly open.

It was only a small gap, but it prevented the door from locking, and when the werecoyote ducked under the bushes that shrouded the wall and pushed against the wood, it opened inward without resistance, and he came through and into the secret passageway.

Up in the bedroom where Professor Fitzgerald lay injured, Lenora, Tom, and Doctor Cameron still stood watch.

Lenora looked at her father and said, “Since this awful thing that happened to him, I can’t feel any resentment over the way he treated you.” She hoped he would feel just as forgiving.

Tom had stood silently between them, but at Lenora's words, he looked abruptly at Doctor Cameron and then down at Professor Fitzgerald. “Did you quarrel with him?” he asked.

“Yes, we quarreled!” Doctor Cameron snapped, “So I suppose you think I ran after him and dragged him out of the car?”

“Dad!” Lenora cried.

Tom looked away from Doctor Cameron under the force of the outburst, but said nothing more.

Doctor Cameron regarded him for a moment, then added, scornfully, “Newspaper training seems to breed a suspicious nature.” He turned and left the room without another word or a glance back, shutting the door behind him.

Down in the secret hallway, the werecoyote stood in front of the locked inner door to the lab, waiting.

After a moment, when it became clear the door wasn't opening immediately, he started back towards the outer door, reaching it right as a crash of thunder rolled through the air.

He leaned cautiously forward, peering through the small barred window in the center. Lightning flashed violently across the sky, and thunder rolled like a steady drumbeat over the marshy forest.

Up in her bedroom, Lenora looked at Tom with anger in her expression. “I wish you wouldn’t try to antagonize him.”

“I wasn’t trying to antagonize him,” Tom defended, hands in his pockets, “He just didn’t give me a chance to finish! I was just gonna ask him if anyone was with Fitzgerald when he left here.” He took one hand out of his pocket for a moment to point at nothing, and looked around the room, as though a witness would appear from the shadows.

“Well I can answer that.” Lenora said, slightly mollified, “Petro was with him.”

Tom snapped his head back to her. “Petro?”

“Yes, he drove him into town.” she said.

Tom’s eyes were wide.

Lenora started to say, “But, surely you don’t think—” she stopped herself before completing the thought.

“I don’t know what to think…” Tom said, dazedly, then determinedly, “But I will know as soon as Fitzgerald comes to.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Dad about your imagination.” Lenora said, angry again, “It’s fantastic!”

“Maybe so,” Tom retorted, pushing his coat back and putting his hands in his pockets again, leaning back on his heels, “But didn’t it strike you funny we didn’t find Petro when we found Fitzgerald?”

Lenora looked away, refusing to answer.

“Look, darling, please don’t snap at me just for trying to add things up!” Tom pleaded, gesturing widely with one arm.

Lenora twisted her mouth, and moved to hug him. “I’m sorry, forgive me.”

Down in his laboratory, Doctor Cameron was in front of his shelf of vials and jars. He frantically filled a syringe, then rushed back out into his study without even bothering to shut the secret door behind him.

Up in the room, Lenora straightened from examining Professor Fitzgerald, and said to Tom, who was coming back to her side from the door, “He’s still unconscious.”

“Well he must regain consciousness, even if only for a few minutes!” Tom said, “So much depends upon it!”

Lenora looked at him worriedly, then back down at the Professor.

A muffled but loud knocking sound made them both look over their shoulders.

“That must be the doctor!” Lenora said quickly.

“I’ll go down with you!” Tom hurried to follow her back towards the door.

They both rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

The short upper hallway was empty as they descended out of sight and to the ground floor, but then the door across the hall from Lenora's bedroom, in which the injured Professor Fitzgerald lay, creaked open, and Doctor Cameron stepped out, clutching his syringe to his chest.

He paused just a moment to make sure Tom and Lenora had gone downstairs, then he strode across the hall and into the room.

Down below, Lenora opened the front door, exclaiming, “Oh, Doctor, I’m glad you got here!” to let in a tall man in a long, dark wool coat, carrying a large black bag.

“I am glad to get inside,” He said as he strode in, hat in hand, “There’s a humdinger of a storm coming up.” He looked back at them, “Where is the patient?”

“Upstairs!” Lenora pointed.

Doctor Cameron stepped down right as the new Doctor was about to start up, saying, “Ah, good evening, Doctor, will you go right on up?”

The Doctor looked at him for a moment as though surprised, either to see him in particular, or by his words for some reason, but then wasted no more time or words, and went up the stairs quickly.

Doctor Cameron quickly intercepted his daughter when she made to follow the other Doctor, saying “You stay down here, dear, there’s nothing you can do.” Then he hurried up the stairs himself.

Tom leaned towards Lenora, and said quickly and apologetically. “I hate to leave you, but I must question Fitzgerald as soon as he’s able to talk.”

Lenora nodded her permission and forgiveness, and Tom ran up the stairs after the other two men.

Down in the stone hallway, the werecoyote still waited, alternatively standing by the outer door and pacing anxiously as the sky crashed with thunder and flashed with lightning.

When he moved, he went up and down the short length of the hall in repeated cycles, barking his warnings to himself.

Upstairs, Tom was just coming through the bedroom door when the Doctor in front of him by the bed said, “Reckon it’s a little late for me to help, man’s dead.”

Tom had been walking forward to join the two doctors next to the bed, but momentarily froze in his place at this horrible pronouncement.

Then he moved forward. “Dead?”

“Yes, that’s too bad.” Doctor Cameron said without any great emotion as Tom stopped next to him over the still-warm body of Professor Fitzgerald, “We were hoping he’d throw light on a matter of great importance.”

“Well…” The Doctor picked up the hat and bag he'd barely sat down. “I’ll be getting back to town before this storm gets worse.” He looked at Doctor Cameron. “I’ll send the coroner out.”

He left the room, and Doctor Cameron hurried to follow him out.

Downstairs, Lenora had just entered her father’s study, and had seen the still-open secret door to his laboratory.

She went straight across the room to examine the book case swung out on its hinges, then leaned toward the open space behind it, and after just a moment of hesitation, stepped through.

She found herself in the threshhold of her father’s laboratory, the thick-blocked stone walls radiated coldness she could feel even from where she stood, and the coyote, still locked up in its cage, immediately began to snarl at her.

Lenora looked around the room for a few moments, hands clenching and unclenching anxiously in front of her, then went across to the couch, leaning over to pick up one of the thick restraining straps that lay draped across it. She stared at it, aghast, thoughts whirling with unwanted ideas.

She straightened, and looked back towards the door, her heart starting to pound, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat.

She saw closed the door at the base of the couch and went to investigate, pushing her hands against it experimentally when she saw there was no knob to pull, but it didn’t budge.

Unknown to her, the werecoyote still stood waiting on the other side, and when another burst of lighting and thunder burst out, he startled wildly, then ran to the door to look out the small window again, flinching back from the lightning that he saw there.

He growled at the storm and made a mock lunge towards the door but, to no avail—the lightning flashed again, and he flinched back harder, then twisted his head, looking for somewhere to hide when it became obvious he wouldn't be able to frighten the storm into retreating.

But the only thing he could see was the short, empty stone hallway.

On the other side of the door, Lenora had noticed the switches on the wall. She started to reach for them, then held herself back, uncertain.

Past the wall, the werecoyote barked and snarled and bared his teeth through the small barred window at the seemingly endless lightning and thunder. The stones of the wall were so thick that Lenora couldn't hear any sounds from behind the door.

Then the werecoyote spun away from the outer door and rushed back to the inner, but it was still locked, and he stared around him in mounting desperation as the storm grew more intense.

At the front door to the mansion, the visiting Doctor was putting on his hat, preparing to go out, and pulling his wool coat closer as he braced himself for the cold and rain. “Goodnight!” he shouted to be heard over the storm.

“Goodnight, Doctor.” Doctor Cameron said, standing behind the door, waiting to close it.

Tom walked closer to the door to peer out as the Doctor left, and Doctor Cameron said severely, “There’s no necessity of you staying any longer.”

Tom glared at him. “Oh yes there is!” He stepped closer. “I want to ask you a lot of questions. Mainly about Petro, that servant of yours.”

“I cannot be bothered with any more of your questions!” Doctor Cameron snapped, “They’re only posited by your fantastic imagination!” He glared. “I must ask you to leave at once!”

Tom didn’t take his gaze off Doctor Cameron as he reached for the knob of the door and shut it firmly. “Well, you’ll do some talking whether you like it or not.”

Doctor Cameron folded his hands behind his back. “You’re making yourself very unpleasant.”

“I haven’t even started yet to be unpleasant!” Tom declared, “If my hunch is correct, I’ll prove you guilty of murder! And in the meantime—”He jerked his head toward the rest of the manor, “I’ll get Lenora out of his madhouse!”

“You will prove nothing. My daughter stays here with me.”

In her father’s laboratory, Lenora had stepped away from the wall and its panel of switches, trying to convince herself to just leave the room and its mysteries alone, but she was looking back at it, and then she suddenly moved forward for it again, and flipped the left switch upward.

She took a few steps backwards as the door slowly began to swing away from her.

Then it was open, and she had a clear view of the werecoyote as he spun to face her at the sound. He was wearing Petro's clothes. His face was covered in tawny fur, his hands were claws. Sharp white teeth were perpetually bared past curled lips.

Lenora, momentarily shocked beyond words, backed away until she hit the table in the center of the room, and the werecoyote, snarling and growling, stalked forward through the door.

Then Lenora shrieked, found her legs, and ran around the table to flee the room.

Out in the hall, her scream had been clearly heard, and both Tom and Doctor Cameron spun to stare, then rushed towards the source of the sound, Tom in the lead. When he got to Doctor Cameron’s study and saw the open secret panel on the other side, he ran across the room and through without hesitation, while behind him, Doctor Cameron slowed to a cautious walk.

Tom was through the doorway just in time to meet Lenora on her way out, and she pointed behind her with a frantic, “Tom!” as the werecoyote began to circle the table.

Instantly as Lenora ran past him, Tom grabbed one of the chairs off the floor and threw it clear across the room to crash into the werecoyote, who stumbled back under the force of the blow, then flailed against the wood in his arms, tearing the chair to splinters in just moments before he charged forward.

But Tom was already through the still open doorway, and grabbed Lenora where she stood out in the study with her father, who hadn’t moved. “Run!” Tom shouted, and Lenora ran for the opposite door with Tom behind her, Doctor Cameron belatedly following

In the entry hall, Tom shouted, “Upstairs!”, and Lenora ran up them, while behind them, Doctor Cameron closed and locked the door to his study.

Behind those locked doors, a flash of lightning and almost simultaneous roar of thunder lit up the french windows of the study, and the werecoyote jumped with a yelp, then rushed for the doors, pulling desperately the knobs, but the locks held.

Tom and Lenora had locked themselves in Lenora's room, where Professor Fitzgerald’s body lay cooling on the bed.

“What happened to Petro?” Lenora demanded.

Out in the short hall at the top of the stairs, Doctor Cameron ran for his own room.

In the study, the werecoyote still fought with the locked doors to no avail, ramming them with his shoulder in an attempt to get free from the storm, which seemed to be in the room with him.

Then disaster struck.

Doctor Cameron had left one of the study’s large windows open in front of a table covered in some of his most volatile chemicals, and a bolt of lightning shot straight out of the sky and struck the table with what seemed like unerring accuracy.

There was an immediate explosion as glass shattered, and the werecoyote spun in terror just in time to see the thick, heavy tapestry on the wall next to the cable be set ablaze, going up in flames so quickly that they reached the ceiling within moments.

The werecoyote gave a cry of fear, then turned desperately back to the doors, and fought harder than ever to get them open.

The fire spread to the other two curtains on the same wall, and then to the mantle over the fireplace, and the floor, and showed no sign of stopping. Only Doctor Cameron knew what had been in those containers, and what he'd been planning to use them for.

It felt like an eternity before the werecoyote managed to burst through the doors and found himself in the entryhall, with the roaring fire not far behind him.

Immediately he spun to face the flames, drawing himself up and snarling and mock-charging, only to be met with the fire’s own brand of threat display as it flared brighter and shot out tongues into the entryhall as it began to devour the carpet, forcing him to flinch back and lift his arms to shield himself.

The flames continued their advance, and the werecoyote snarled again in helpless fear, then raced frantically up the stairs.

Tom and Lenora were still waiting in her locked room, jumping at every flash of lightning and roar of thunder, thinking it was the werecoyote coming to kill them.

He had reached the top of the stairs and immediately made for the door they hid behind, because it was the closest thing he could see that seemed like safety, but Tom and Lenora braced themselves against it when they saw the knob turning, and together they managed to hold it shut.

The fire had climbed the stairs in the moments that this wasted, and now the air of the second floor was filling rapidly with smoke.

Doctor Cameron had left his own hiding place in his room, and now he stood, staring in shock, his mouth covered by his sleeve as he tried to breathe through the smoke, at first the stairway, blazing with fire, and then at the werecoyote, who was slowly turning to face him.

“Petro.” Doctor Cameron gasped, as the werecoyote’s gazed locked onto him, “Petro, what are you doing?”

The werecoyote advanced across the short distance that separated them with a snarl.

Doctor Cameron knew that his luck had run out.

“Petro—Petro! Stay back! Petro! Petro, get back!” He desperately tried to command, but the werecoyote was no longer obeying.

Doctor Cameron made a sudden lunge down another branch of the hallway in a desperate bid for safety, but the werecoyote caught him almost instantly, clawed hands wrapping around his throat.

Doctor Cameron had enough time to shout one more, “Petro! Back—!”

In the smaller room, Lenora and Tom had seen the smoke coming through the gaps around the door and were opening it, preparing to flee the house. They didn't know what was happening between the mad monster and the man he'd experimented on.

“Come on!” Tom encouraged, pushing Lenora through and into the smoke filled hallway, himself right behind her.

In the entry hall, the flames covered everything visible.

When Tom and Lenora got to the top of the stairs, a sudden flash of fire made them both leap backwards, before Tom ripped of his coat and put it over Lenora’s shoulders.

Together, arms around eachother, they charged down the flame-laden stairs and straight for the front door. They made it through, and Tom slammed it shut behind him without even thinking about it.

Behind them, just coming down the stairs, was a tall human figure, carrying another figure in his arms.

Tom and Lenora ran several feet away from the house, splashing through the muddy water that had swept over the old and broken walkway before they stopped to look back through the pouring rain and clashing sky, and Lenora shouted, “Dad!”

“Oh!” Tom exclaimed, “You wait here, I’ll go get him!” He ran back to the burning manor, hoping that the water soaking through to his skin would protect him.

Inside the foyer beyond the closed front door, the tall figure had collapsed to the floor, dropping the body it held, powerless against the heat and the smoke.

Tom got all the way to the front door again and managed to open it despite the heat burning through the knob. He was about to step through when a new roar shook the building, and entire parts of the walls and ceiling began to collapse, shrieking with flame, making the entryway completely impassible, ringing his ears like it was the whole world falling apart around him.

The figure that had fallen to the floor just barely managed to avoid being crushed under a falling beam from the ceiling, and began to crawl desperately away.

Tom had thrown his arms up over his head instinctively to shield himself when the walls began to crumble, and he spun and ran back out into the rain and to Lenora as fast as he could before he even had time to think of what he was doing. It was pure self-preservation instinct.

Lenora still had Tom's coat thrown over her as she waited in the rain, and when she saw him come alone, she gasped, “Where—?”

He looked back at the flaming, ruined house, then back at her, and their wild-eyed gazes met. He didn't need to say a word. She could see for herself that the roof was collapsing in on itself as the house was consumed.

“Oh, Tom!” she cried.

They collapsed into each other’s arms in the rain, and though Tom kept his eyes on the open doorway, no figure ever came into his sight to escape the roaring flames.

#Rjalker novelizes things #Rjalker novelizes The Mad Monster 1942 #Rjalker watches The Mad Monster 1942 #The Mad Monster 1942 #Novella November #Novelization November #free books #werewolves #werecoyotes #werecoyote #mad scientist

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skylarmoon71 · 7 months ago

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Patrick Jane (Mentalist) - Extra

“W-We have to get to work.”

Nothing is ever simple with Patrick Jane. You intended to just enjoy a calm morning. It started out so innocent. You came down to make some breakfast after another planned movie night. But Jane had other plans.

“I’ll be quick.”

When he smirked you knew that was a complete lie.

As much as you were protesting, you weren’t giving much resistance, especially since he had you laying flat on your dining table where you really shouldn’t be doing this.

“J-Jane w-wait we’re going to break something.”

He pushed the vase right off the table and you just stared as the glass shattered.

“I was counting on it.”

He climbed on top, parting your thighs and you moaned when he grinded his body into you.

So much for a quiet morning.

“We’re here!”

Lisbon turned, taking in the frazzled way you ran through the entrance. Jane strolled in after looking more than satisfied.

“Sorry we’re late. We got a little delayed.”

They didn’t need the particulars, his smile was way too suggestive.

“Anyway, what’s the case boss?”

You needed to divert their attention.

Lisbon was quick to fill you in. Jane had sneakily made it to your side, nodding every now and then just to show that he was paying attention. His hand was on your shoulder, an innocent enough placement if not for the thoughts that slipped through.

“We should try a different position tonight, I’m curious to see how you look bent over.”

The blush was impossible to hide and you forced yourself not to let a sound out. Shifting on your leg, you tried to casually shrug his hand off. He really was a piece of work, getting you excited in a place like this. His hand moved as intended, and you bit back a gasp when he drifted south. He gives you an encouraging squeeze, chuckling just low enough for you to hear. It really didn’t help that you choose today of all days to wear a skirt.

“Is this better?”

You cursed and Lisbon looked over.

“What’s wrong, did you remember something?”

All eyes moved to you, and Jane just grinned, waiting for what cover you would use. His hand was still in a very delicate place.

“Yes, please share with the class.” Jane urged.

“I-It’s nothing. Sorry I thought I recognized the name.”

Lisbon nodded.

“No worries, we’ll find something soon. Let’s just stay on top of it.”

The group dispersed and you turned to Jane.

“Something the matter?”

He was being cheeky.

“S-Stop messing with me, it’s driving me crazy.”

“That’s the intention.”

“Jane, I'm serious.”

You tried to be authoritative, but it just came off as cute. He took your hand.

“I’m sorry, but it’s my job as your lover to ruin you in the best way. I can’t help myself. That first night was like a drug. You looked so beautiful, writhing beneath me. I’m addicted.”

He lifted your hand, leaving a kiss and the redness returned to your cheeks as you did your best to remain professional given your circumstances.

“Tonight can’t come soon enough.”

He said nothing more, turning to head to Lisbon’s office.

How the hell did he expect you to last till tonight?

It was almost impossible, but you pushed through. Each hour a new fact would arise, so you at least have a distraction.

Lisbon had not been oblivious, she figured out what was going on when she walked in at one point and saw Jane whispering to you. It explained the redness that ran straight to the tips of your ears.

He must have realized he was caught, because he tried to play it off, walking past Lisbon.

“Those little games you’re playing on (L/N) are going to come back to bite you in the butt.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jane denied.

“Sure you don’t.”

Lisbon didn’t believe him for a second.

He went about his day as usual, going through the facts, visiting potential suspects. All in all it was a pretty productive day. By the time everyone was preparing to leave you, you explained that you needed to use the bathroom. So he waited patiently in your car, humming a tune in his head as he pictured all the ways he could make you blush like a virgin.

He glanced over when he heard your boots approaching. You slipped right into the driver’s seat and he turned to you with that smile.

“Ready to go.”

He didn’t get a response, and when you looked over he swallowed at your lust filled eyes. You leaned in, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. One hand moved to the dashboard, the other fighting to rip his seatbelt off when he realized you weren’t slowing down. You pulled back, chest rising quickly and he recognized at that point that you were in no shape to make it home unless your needs were tended to.

You climbed into his seat, straddling his waist and he barely had the chance to say a word. You were groping every inch of his body. He was thankful that he’d managed to get the seatbelt off. Your hands moved to his belt buckle and he complied, pulling his shirt out of his pants to help you along. Now you were actually happy that you’d decided to wear a skirt. He hiked it up the second he freed himself from his pants and you lowered with a desperate and shaky breath. His moan was low and you clenched your eyes at the sensation that invaded your senses.

“Wow..”

His heart was racing beneath your fingertips and he smiled against your lips at your little mutter.

“Not as innocent as I thought, agent.”

He liked it, how much you craved him. You couldn’t seem to think straight when he was around. This was just another demonstration. You rocked your hips, and when you got into a rhythm, he followed, his moans as heavy as yours. You were bouncing lightly as he gripped your thighs, insistent on driving into you. The angle felt amazing. You were barely holding it together.

You were close.

His fingers gripped into your skin, and when he pulled you in for another kiss, your orgasm came rushing through. Your fingers gripped into his suit that was in disarray as he rode out his own release.

It came just as intensely as your own, and when you both came down, you pressed your head on his shoulder, doing your best to even out your breaths.

Jane was laughing under his breath, kissing your cheek.

“Bad girl.”

Just two words and you were excited again.

His goal must be to destroy you with all this pleasure.

It felt like it was working.

#patrickjane #the mentalist #mindreader #humor #love #trust #smut #CBI #crime #janexreader #care #feelings

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the-void-writes · 1 year ago

Note

brushing a strand of hair away

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy a small bit of Val and Cyrus being sweet. I’ll try to write more exciting stuff for them soon lol, but their quiet moments are kind of soothing to write.

The Secrets Of Lockhart Manor - A Night In

Rain beat softly against the windows, a curtain of water obscuring the silhouette of Hawthorn’s mountains. Moonlight turned the endless abyss into a sea of blue and gray clouds. It was the perfect weather for the end of the day, when both the staff and the manor itself seemed to fall asleep.

Val sank into the mattress with their book, lost in a story about a man who claimed to reach Hawthorn by sea, despite the town being inland. The mysterious properties of Val’s new home were a historian’s dream come true. There would always be something to discover in Hawthorn, something grand and exciting. Finding this place was the greatest thing Val’s crew had ever done for them.

The bed shifted as Cyrus fell onto the covers, crawling towards Val and resting his head on their shoulder. His hands felt colder than usual, wrapping around Val’s body in hopes of taking in some of their warmth. They smiled and kissed the top of his head, placing their book aside to give him their full attention.

“Hey there.”

“Hello, my darling.” Cyrus ran his hand through their hair. “You look dashing tonight.”

Val raised their eyebrow. “You think so?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Ah, sure. Absolutely radiant, in ten-dollar sweatpants.”

Cyrus chuckled. “You doubt yourself too much.”

“Your heart is just too big, hon. You see things that I can’t.”

They could feel his mischievous eyes on them.

“I’d be happy to change your perception, if you’d like.”

Val snorted. “Save your efforts for the wedding.”

He smiled. “As you wish, dear.”

“So, how did the meeting go?”

Cyrus hummed against their warm skin. “We had to do some extra digging, but I think we found the perfect place.”

“For your project?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Am I still not allowed to ask about it?”

“Not until your birthday.”

Val huffed. “Great, you’re gonna build me something, and all I have for you are books.”

“Nonsense.” He kissed their hand. “You’ve already given me so much, Val. This right here is the best gift of all.”

Val carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes. He melted under their touch with the biggest smile stretched across his face, completely entranced by his fiancé and their endless affection. His hands met their face, and they fell into a kiss. Arms and legs were tangled together like a perfect puzzle. Cyrus chuckled as Val unbuttoned his waistcoat.

“Can’t wait for the wedding anymore?”

“Not when you talk like that,” Val whispered. “When you show so much kindness to me.”

“Darling, you’re the one who’s shown us more compassion than anyone in recent years.”

Val took his hand. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

Cyrus kissed their wrist. “I would wait a lifetime for you.”

#writeblr #ask games #wip: secrets of lockhart manor

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justatypicalwizard · 1 year ago

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Wants Within | S. Shinazugawa | Chapter 18

✦ Sanemi Shinazugawa x femReader!, college au, reader is adult

✦ Synopsis: You're a college student taking classes with a very strict lecturer- professor Shinazugawa. Because of an unfortunate event you got on his bad side so now you're trying everything to regain in his eyes. Well, you most certainely didn't expect that kind of attention.

✦ Word count: 1,7k

18+, minors do not interac

You felt his hands all over you. He grabbed your ass harshly and picked you up, sinking his lips into your. You wrapped your tight around his slim waist, groaning internally at the feeling of his perfectly shaped body.

‘’Are you still in the mood for ‘do whatever you want with me’?’’ He asked in a raspy voice, between the kisses.

‘’That’s my default.’’ You giggled, tracing your fingers along his jawline, only so slightly. Next you cupped his cheeks in your palms to stop him from aggressively possessing your mouth. Inching closer you gave him butterfly kisses, for the sole purpose of teasing him. The last straw that you drew was the cat lick on his lips, your face blushing but your eyes hungry. That was enough for Shinazugawa.

‘’Are you in the mood for a foreplay?’’ He asked, literally throwing you on the bed.

As your back bounced on the soft mattress you looked up to see him undressing, you did the same. Well, he was quicker and before you could free yourself from your underwear he was on top of you. Skilfully, he unclasped your bra with one hand and moved to your panties.

‘’I started to like it.’’ he said playfully, before flashing you a devilish, toothy grin.

Then, he tore yet another pair of you panties open.

‘’Oh hell no!’’ You said. ‘’Sanemi!’’

You were not even half aware how much you teased him. That frown with his name, oh how he loved it.

‘’Don't worry kitten, I’ll buy you new ones.’’ He stood proud in front of you, obviously showing off his muscles and you couldn't deny, you like it. ‘’So, you want foreplay?’’

Oh, how glad you were that he asked. You were definitely too horny for that.

‘’No, I just want to fuck.’’ You told him greedily, licking your lips.

‘’That’s what I wanted to hear.’’ He grinned, grabbing your hips.

His strong arms pulled you towards the bed end. He stood up and picked you easily, turning you around. Now, you were on all your fours waiting for him. You heard the sound of the condom as you wiggled your ass impatiently.

‘’Geez, wait. Or are you so greedy for my cock?’’ He laughed, pushing the tip at your entrance. ‘’Guess you are.’’ he said and you nodded with a huff. ‘’Okay, then let me give it to you baby.’’

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed hard, making your chest hit the mattress and your face burry into the soft, black material of his bedsheets. He pulled at your hair and your neck bent up. Without mercy, he shoved himself all in.

It was like someone split you in half. Your body was not experienced and ready enough. Well, you doubt it will ever be taking his size into consideration. Yet, the pain felt so right, so needed. You felt him hard, with every small muscle, from the walls of your pussy to the toes that curled when he pushed more and more.

He pulled out and slammed himself once more, and again, and again.

‘’Tell me when it’ll start to feel good, not only pain.’’ Oh that bastard knew damn well what he was doing. ‘’But I need to say, you’re very brave. First time I can really do what I like.’’ He purred into your ear filling you with confidence.

You wanted everything that he did. You were so glad that the two of you had the same needs and fantasies. You always feared that your kinks would be too much. Yet, here’s the man that could satisfy you.

‘’Maybe you’ll make me feel good when you stop fucking around and start fucking me.’’ You grinned, turning your head to the side for him to see your little, devilish expression.

He must be fair with himself, you threw him off the track. He never anticipated that he’ll find a girl that would always want more of him. He was definitely a brat tamer, but it’s the first time he found his sweet little brat.

‘’Just as you want princess.’’ And with that he rammed into you.

Loud and lewd moans dripped from your mouth as he shifted your insides and carved your body into his shape. The thing that made you fall off the edge were his occasional grunts. Getting a bit of countroll back as you got used to the tempo you squeezed your muscles to clamp around him more and every time you did a curse or a moan would escape his pale lips. Even though you were at the bottom, you had control over him.

At least you thought so, before the knot that you could previously ignore now started to get painfully present. You lost your breath, moaning without any rhythm, losing control over your own muscles. They all clasped around his cock abruptly as you came with a loud scream of his name.

He didn’t need more to reach his orgasm. He pushed into you last few times, cumming inside.

It took a while for the both of you to catch your breaths. Sanemi pulled out and threw away the used condom. You fell on the bed and stretched yourself. Suddenly, you felt a slap to your asscheek.

‘’To the toilet now. I don’t want you getting an infection.’’ He pointed at the doors.

‘’Okay, okay.’’ You giggled and skipped the way he showed you.

As you fixed yourself in the toilet you looked in the mirror. Your lips were swollen, your lower ones also. You tried to do something with your hair but it lived its own life. Shrugging, you washed your hands and stepped outside, not feeling any embarrassment in front of Shinazugawa.

Marching naked through his apartment you suddenly got hit with something in your face. Catching it you saw it was a band tee. It was huge and easily reached half your tight. It was a Time Impala t-shirt.

Putting it on you laughed at Sanemi.

‘’You basic bitch.’’

‘’You want to listed to fucking Mozart Miss ‘distinctive music taste’?’’ He threw at you but you only laughed.

‘’Just joking.’’

‘’Want some more?’’ He asked, picking up the wine glasses.

‘’Yes, why not.’’ You thought you would be okay, would you?

You sat on the couches as he turned on a small lamp. The room bathed in a golden light, making it very cosy. The wood looked soft and delightful while the black couches glistered, reflecting the light.

Shinazugawa put on the same pants he had earlier, denying himself any shirt. He sat down on the couch, leaning in, holding his wine in one hand and brushing his hair with the other. A few ruffles and it was the usual white mess.

Looking him up and down in a less sensual manner you remembered the one question you always wanted to ask him.

‘’Where did you get all there scars?’’ You spat out bluntly. ‘’Of course, if I may ask.’’

‘’Yeah, why not.’’ He shrugged. ‘’When I was small my family had a car accident. Me and my brother were the only ones that got out of it alive. Genya happened to sit behind me and I got the bigger blow. I grew up with those scars.’’ He looked somewhere past you and your stomach dropped.

‘’But, how do you feel about them?’’ You pried.

‘’I’m kinda grateful that it’s me, not Genya. He could not be able to live with it. He’s a shy idiot who can’t take advantage of his strong side. He’s actually pretty insecure about that one scar that was left on his face.’’ It felt surreal, listening about the smaller brother's insecurity while looking at Sanemi, covered in the painful memories.

‘’I’m not asking about Genya, I’m asking about you.’’ You told him.

It shocked him a bit. Usually people shut up after he says such things but you, you did not. You were interested in his feelings in all of this.

‘’I don’t really care.’’ He stated, looking you in the eye. ‘’I already look godly. If I didn’t have those scars I would be too perfect.’’ You laughed at his joke. His mind told him to stop at this moment but his heart wanted to tell you one more thing. ‘’The only… I only regret that so many people see me through these scars. They start to project things on me. I’m no gangster, I teach at a fucking university and just happened to be in a accident.’’ He looked you deep in the eye. ‘’You were actually the first person who seemed to not give a fuck about them from the very begining.’’

His statement caught you off guard. You never thought about yourself as someone special, you were just your regular self. Actually, what you thought was going on was him, keeping his emotions shut deep down. Maybe, in fact, people were never kind to him and approached him with some carved beliefs and prejudices? That would match the thousands of walls he built around himself.

You didn’t quite know why, but you wanted to climb these walls and reach the centre.

‘’It sounds like a hard topic, I’m sorry but I don’t quite know what else to say.’’ You apologised to him for your poor comforting skills.

‘’You already did a lot, believe it or not.’’ He gave you one of those small smiles and you choked on your wine.

Dropping the heavy topics you started to talk about smaller and simpler stuff. You shared your music tastes, what clothes you like to wear, dogs and cats. The conversation was light hearted and comfortable. You never knew you would get to know so much about your crush.

Soon the two of you found yourself finishing the wine bottle. Maybe it was a bit too much for you, actually you never read how many percent the liquor had. Well, enough to get you a bit drowsy.

‘’I should probably head home, don’t want to take an uber too late in the night.’’ You said, your voice sinking down. You didn’t want to go home.

‘’You can stay the night if you want.’’ Shinazugawa shrugged.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@secretxchive @vesperazhier @sulli1361

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #college #university #college student #shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer shinazugawa #shinazugawasanemi #sanemi x y/n #sanemi smut

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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