#zombie patrick hockstetter x reader

[jamesdeansbby]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ dead lover, crawl back to me ۶ৎ

⸺ 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘥.

[lavender-vixen]

omg pls make a Patrick hockstetter (zombie) one x reader that used to date back when he was alive. If you can’t pls do one where like Patrick and you are dating however you were JUST LIKE HIM..LIEK same mental issues type shit pls tyyy :3

"Still Yours, Baby." (Zombie!Patrick Hockstetter x reader).

Patrick Hockstetter has been dead for a month. Or at least, that's what they say.

The town whispers about it, the missing posters falling apart, his name spray-painted on the side of the old water tower, his friends barely talking about him anymore, moving on like he was just another freak no one’s gonna miss.

But you? You don’t move on. Because Patrick wasn’t just anyone. He was yours.

And the two of you were exactly the same. Twisted. Reckless. Beautifully, perfectly fucked up.

Now you sit in your room, staring at the cigarette burn marks on your walls, the razor-sharp switchblade he gave you sitting on your nightstand, and you wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again.

Until the night he comes back.

It’s past midnight when you hear it. The creak of your window. The sound of something moving outside, slow, deliberate. You don’t jump. Don’t panic. Because you’ve always had this feeling, this unshakable instinct that Patrick Hockstetter isn’t gone.

Not for real. Not from you. And when you finally turn toward the window—he’s standing there. Watching you. Waiting.

Still handsome. Still Patrick. But not alive.

"Miss Me, Baby?" he rasps.

He’s different now. His skin is pale, almost ashen, the veins beneath it dark, stark against his sharp jawline. His cheekbones are sharper, his body leaner, more emaciated, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

But his eyes? They’re still the same. That dark, knowing glint. That sharp amusement, the look that always made your stomach twist, made you feel like he was five steps ahead of you, even when you were on the same team.

Patrick fucking grins. His lips are dry, cracked, but the smirk? It’s still cocky as ever.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he murmurs, tilting his head, his voice lower, rougher, almost broken from disuse. Like something that crawled out of the grave just to find you. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

He’s closer now. Inside your room, leaning against the wall, the flickering neon light from your bedside lamp casting hollow shadows over his features. His clothes are torn, dirty, his fingers still stained with something dark, but he still smells like him.

Cigarettes. Leather. Something dangerous. And when he finally moves—it’s fast.

One second, he’s against the wall. Then he’s got you pinned against the bed, his hands on your waist, gripping you like he needs to feel something real.

And when he leans in, dragging his lips over your jaw, your throat, he groans.

"You smell the same," he mutters, voice hoarse, strained, like he’s been screaming for weeks. Like he’s been crawling through the fucking dirt to get back to you. "You taste the same."

His tongue drags over your pulse point, and your stomach flips—because he’s cold now, colder than he ever was, but fuck, it still makes you shiver.

Then he laughs, breathless, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers digging into your hips. "You didn’t cry for me, did you?"

It’s a mocking tease, but there’s something beneath it, something almost pleading. Like he needs to hear it. Like he needs you to tell him he wasn’t just another dead thing in the woods. Like he needs to know he was real.

You swallow hard, your hands gripping his torn shirt, your voice barely above a whisper. "You really think I’d cry over you, Hockstetter?"

Patrick fucking grins. Because of course, you didn’t. You just waited. Now he’s back.

He’s starving, and not just for flesh. Not for whatever the fuck it is that keeps him moving, keeps him alive. No. Patrick’s starving for you.

And when he pushes you back onto the bed, spreads your legs, grins down at you like he’s about to wreck you all over again—you realize something.

He’s still him. Still cocky. Still fucked up. Still yours.

"You let anyone else touch you while I was gone, babe?" he mutters, dragging his lips down your stomach, teeth scraping against your hips. His voice is raspy, ruined, almost hungry. Like he’s gonna eat you alive.

You grin, breathless, teasing. "What do you think?"

Patrick fucking growls. "Guess I’ll have to remind you who the fuck you belong to, huh?"

Then he’s between your legs, his cold hands gripping your thighs, his tongue dragging slow, deep, teasing, claiming you all over again from beyond the grave.

And you’re letting him. Because Patrick may be dead. But he’s still yours. And you’ll always be his.

[im-tired-404]

Yall holy shit Patrick Hockstetter would be the perfect Snow White

Before:

After:

[rockini]

Guy's don't call me crazy but I need a fic of Zombie Hockstetter...like hear me out I swear I'm not crazy

[doeeyedmeanie]

Morbid Curiosity…

a much requested part 3..? is this becoming a series ?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.xx.x.x.x.xx.x.x.x.x x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

Patrick had trailed behind you like a loyal dog the entire walk home, each step you took , each breath you snuck practically being studied by him. His body mirroring yours , his mind working overtime to figure you out . Not even aware you were talking to him right now, not even aware his hand had skimmed yours, not even aware that you were genuinely warming upto him.

“So…are we friends and does that mean i’m safe from henry’s wrath or…?” You turned , eyes wide like a deers, hand foolishly messing with your hair , the setting sun make you glow like some sort of angel sent..which Patrick was starting to believe, he’d made everything around apart from you but you were real..so real that you matched him perfectly, maybe he had made you too.Maybe not.

“Henry..” He mumbled , only now snapping out of his mind and into the moment , only now noticing he was stood on your porch with you. Only now realising it was past curfew and that you were still here, you’d talked the entire time to him and not even mentioned how late it was getting or how much trouble you’d be in with your parents or how the creeping darkness was starting to get to you , starting to weigh down on your mind and body. “uh..i’ll see..maybe if you hang out with me again..” He lazy line left his lips, that smug smile tugging his lips , body leaning into yours as he handed you your bag back.

“hmm i’ll think about it..?” A stupid puppy dog look appeared in your eyes , making it even harder for Hockstetter to concentrate or even keep up with whatever your pretty mouth was babbling about. He nodded, probably way too fast and possibly gave away how much he didn’t mind your company. How you didn’t annoy him, how you actually made him feel something other than a murderous intention , i mean sure if the moment came up…he could probably cut into you, dissect each part , study you and everything inside you…probably feast upon your soft flesh and taste that warm red that pumped around you , the warm red that sent heat into your face , the same that made your lashes flutter and that made that soft sweet noise leave your throat.

He stood there , watching you turn and wave him off . He waved back, mind working over time to figure out how or what you’d done to make him act like an animal starved. He stood there ,stuck in place for so long that the lights of your house had dimmed, the moon had witnessed the sun leave , the crickets began their usual nightly gossip and so long that the neighbours across the street were growing worried . The lights from their house turning back on, the glow so bright it snapped him back out of his lovestruck state and back into his brutal bulling machine state. He’d walked back home, mind full of you and only you; a part of him soured at the actual thought of wanting you…wanting you and just you, he didn’t even care if all you’d do was giggle at him and not even touch him..and that..that was enough to almost make him rethink everything. He’d warmed upto the thought of you by time he’d gotten home, shoes leaving muddy steps upto his room. A shrine of rock bands, comics and weird things he’d collected like bones , rocks and the occasional science book paper..like a page on dissecting rats or a pigs heart welcomed him, his arms tired and pulling his clothing off . His bed unmade and ready for him to take his much needed slumber though Patrick knew he’d only get an hour or two of sleep, his mind so heavily bent on you and how to make sure you stayed close .

Friday rolled around ; a week of Patrick and you getting sickly close, your shared interest becoming the only thing you did together. Your conversations consisting solely on “wanna go see a dead cat?” or “hey look at this” or even “i heard there’s a whole bunch of dead birds in the forest .” Patrick thought of each conversation or hang out as a way to you, his mind making use of each moment he got with you. Using that interest of yours to keep you focused on the poor animal and your mouth running with stuff , he’d practically manipulated these hang outs to be a whole different thing. You’d stare at the corpse like a hunting dog ready to feast , as would he, you’d be so focused on everything that Patrick would ask anything and you’d willingly spill. He loved it, having you so close, your mind so available, your eyes so focused. He fed off of it, fed off of the thought that you were just as messed up as he was , fed off of the thought that you were real. Friday afternoon rolled around and as did Patrick’s hand on your shoulder , guiding you into the quarry and towards a dead fish, only now did Patrick have some sort of plan for this.

“I mean you can literally see it laying its eggs…” He shrugged , hands snaking to your hips and pulling you closer , his fingers tracing your skin. The buzz in the back of his mind fuiling everything and making his grin grow bigger and bigger . He knew how’d he’d do this, show you the fish, let his hands wander until his lips found yours and the boom he’d ask the question and you’d say yes and everything would be perfect..right ? It’s not like you were having your own thoughts or feelings…or even having your own plan.

“She’s missing an eye..” You hummed out, your head turning as soon as Patrick’s warm fingers dug into your flesh. Bones digging deep just to pull back and resume their tracing , “you think she lost it before or after she died..?” You asked , eyes focused on his and his focused on yours . Not even a gasp of air could get between you both , you were just breathing in and out of each others air. Eyes stuck to each others , body’s contouring and becoming one, minds swapping thoughts and now even heart beats matching . Perhaps you even shared the same buzz in the back of your heads.

“hmm i don’t know…probably after . Some bird probably ate it right off of her corpse ..” He laughed , “anyways..i’m bored..” He shrugged , eyes moving back to the fish before they moved to you once again, his fingers moving up and towards your face , “how about we..uh..get out of here..? hm? go get a milkshake or something..” He asked , eyes stuck on your lips as they formed a sweet smile. The sort of smile that almost had him break, almost had him rough himself back up and force his lips to yours but no..patrick knew that if he did do that then you’d run off and probably never speak to you. He knew you were morbid like him..but he knew you were also tame, he’d seen your friends , heard your conversations and even knew what music you listened to. All tame…or well tame enough for him. You nodded at him, complying as usual before you paused.

“how about i show you something..?” You suggested , your fingers messing with the collar of his shirt and tugging him back to you, he froze. His head nodding , mind shut off, hands stuck on you like you’d just put some sort of trance onto him, making that buzzing in the back of his thump and thrash around like a caged animal biting at its bars. You giggled , lips finding his and gently moving against him..the action brought him out of his trance , the buzz escaping its cage and finally finding a way to attack. Patrick didn’t know how to act gentle , especially right now , especially after he’d became so obsessed with you. His lips found yours within seconds, greedy and desperate for contact. His hands wandering, grabbing, pulling, pushing and causing little noises to escape your lips. Your hands snaking all over him , only causing the heat between you both to thicken and cause an animalistic urge to take over Patrick. He had you backed into a tree, his lips making a mess of yours , his teeth nibbling on the flesh, nibbling so badly he’d torn your bottom lip causing you to wince and pull away the second you’d felt the pain . You gasp , breathing ragged and lashes fluttering. You looked perfect , real…so real . You tasted real , Patrick decided then and there that you were all he needed.

He let you take a minute before his tongue lapped at your blood, a mumble of sloppy “oops”s and “shit..look at you..” leaving his lips as he continued to clean you up in his own messed up way. Once the blood had stopped, once he’d swallowed the last drop of you, once his hands hand left the final bruise he’d pull away. Eyes stuck on you and how goddamn ethereal you looked, “be my girlfriend.” He blurted out , eyes desperate like a starved dog awaiting a treat .

“mhmph..” You nodded, half panting for air and half slightly bewildered by how messy, how wild , how free you’d just been with Patrick Hockstetter. You knew this sort of behaviour would get you talked about , make you lose friends in school… you didn’t care . Your soul felt a little more seen with Patrick, your mind a little more clearer, your voice actually heard and your body appreciated.

Patrick nodded, his hands moving to fix your hair , “look at you..” He hummed out , “all mine..huh? “ He laughed , that smug look on his face before his lips met with your forehead and his hands pulled you back into him, “beautiful..” He mumbled , fixing you up before leading you out into the forest and towards the Derry diner ; little to no one even inside or outside of it .

He’d led you to sit down, ordered a strawberry milkshake despite the hatred he had for them…something inside him hatred them but you’d briefly mentioned them once during one of your walks and now Patrick felt like he owed you this. Owed you a milkshake for being the only real thing despite him, being the only girl who didn’t look at him like he was dirt , for being the only person who smiled at him for something other than the horrific things he did, for being so understanding and for being so goddamn beautiful. Youd taken the first sip, your hand snaking towards his as you batted your lashes, your lips pursed and broken from the heated moment you shared. Patrick knew it was wrong to think of that during this moment but it’s all he could think about.

He sat there, watching you drink before he finally spoke, “so uh..now we’re together..how about we start acting like it,huh? “ You sent him a look, a look that meant not to push his luck , that you weren’t sure of what was about to escape his lips, “let me kiss you in public, ride with me and the boys , let me walk you home every time i see you, let me sneak in your house so we can make out..” You snapped him a look at the last demand , he knew it was pushing his luck but that didn’t stop the idea of it..of finally seeing what your room looked like if it was going to portray you in the most perfect way or if it was going to be the total opposite..either way he didn’t care aslong as you were around.

“hmmm fine..but maybe not sneaking in..yet.”

“yet?”

“Pat..it’s not even been a day..” You scoffed out, giggling as you playfully rolled your eyes , your lips pecking his before returning to the milkshake . Patrick smirked , squeezing your hand before complying . He knew he was getting ahead of himself but these were only mere dreams he had of you and him, only the less important things he wanted to do. He wanted to explore each part of you, your room only being the start . He’d hope to move onto how that brain of yours fully worked, you’d worked out a little between your shared interest but he wanted to know what set you off, what didn’t , why it didn’t, why it did, what you needed, what you wanted, what you hated, what you loved, if you felt real, what you knew and you. He wanted to know you, every part even the worst part.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.xx.x.x.x.xx.x.x.x.x x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

Thank you for reading ! Reminder that you’re loved !! Eat , drink and rest !!! Eek i’m so glad my posts are getting attention:) thank youuu

[notsosillyanymore-ehbatman]

So I wrote a Patrick Hockstetter x reader thing ig

Idk if it's any good so let me know what you think

Mild warnings for a gore and stuff because it's zombie Patrick

Now without further ado, I present to you: Just Like Before

Today hadn't been bad.

You hadn't done much. You'd gotten up sort of late, then you'd skipped a real breakfast and decided to just have a hot chocolate instead. You had watched Looney Tunes for a while, then you finally put your laundry in the wash. Well, half of your laundry; it had been piling up for the past few weeks and you were only washing it now because this was your third time wearing the clothes on your back -and they were the freshest ones.

After bumming around some in your room with the Beastie Boys playing you took a nap. You slept through lunch, but you woke up just in time for dinner. It had been a pasta salad. Not your favorite, but it wasn't bad or anything. Then you went back to bed feeling a little like you were made of plastic or stuffed like a doll or something. Just fake.

So yeah, today hadn't been bad, but it hadn't been great either. You had woken up, practically starving, but too lazy to make anything real for yourself. You had made yourself hot chocolate, but the Ovaltine had been almost empty, so even when you used the rest of it up your hot "chocolate" tasted more like just plain old hot milk.

You should have called Belch, or Vic, or even Henry to let them know that no, you wouldn't be hanging out to today (like you hadn't been for the last week or so), but you'd lost track of the days, and just couldn't be bothered to talk to anyone right now. When you switched your laundry to the dryer, you were unaware that it was currently broken, so while you napped, under the impression that when you awoke you'd finally have some nice clean clothes, your clothes sat forming mildew in the dryer. Bummer. Dinner had been good though. Nobody had tried to bring Him up like they usually did. They didn't ask if you were okay, or badger you about doing anything -or not doing anything. You were glad your folks had more or less let go of the reigns when it came to you. You and Him.

That was another good thing: you'd hardly even thought about Him today. Not directly. You were always thinking about Him, even before

It was a bad habit, was all. You always had something on your mind, you couldn't help what it was a lot of the time. Even if it was horrible and you hated it, and the thought itself made you want to crush your head with a million hammers. Not that thinking about Him ever made you feel like that.

You were lucky that when you went to sleep you had been thinking about how you felt vaguely sick, rather than Him, because He usually kept you up all night.

You were going to get a good night's sleep that night. Probably the first actually solid night of rest you would have gotten for a few weeks. But He always knew when to show up. Even if it was from beyond the grave.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell. God, it was foul, like something had curled up and died in your room. It smelled like roadkill, and sewage treatment plants, and ammonia, and rot, and vaguely like something familiar.

The next thing, was the breathing, if you could call it that. Loud and ragged, it sounded like every breath hurt. There was slight whistling with it, like when you have a booger in your nose in just the right position to make the most annoying sound in the world, but you can't pick it out, lest people find you disgusting, so you just breathe heavier, trying to dispel it.

When you'd opened your eyes you couldn't see anything, because you weren't adjusted to the dark, but you still knew who it was. Even if you couldn't see Him, you still knew Him, even if He wasn't really Himself anymore.

You turn on your bedside lamp, and boy, you almost regret it. He looked gnarly. Just- bad. He looked like he had been through a wood chipper or something. His shirt was in tatters, and so we're his jeans (but those had always had a few rips). The skin you could see wasn't the usual lifeless pallor he usually sported, now he really did look dead. His skin was almost blue and bloated, especially around the little bite marks, almost like a million tiny sharks had gotten a hold of him. And his face. Holy Cow. One of his eyes had, well, you guessed it had popped, since it didn't look entirely there anymore, but his other was alright. Alright as in still in his skull, it was cloudy now, and maybe a little sunken, but oh well. Yeah, he wasn't doing so hot, but it was Patrick, you two had been through worse. You were just glad to see him. Even if you had just been about to get over him. Maybe.

"Hey, Pat." You're a bit shocked at not only the rough quality to your voice (undoubtedly from the rest you should have been getting), but also the quality to it that read as nothing but scared shitless. It was wavering like a theremin being played by an old woman with the jitters.

You don't get a response, aside from maybe a sort of growl, but you can't differentiate it too much from his pug-like breathing.

"Let's uh, get you cleaned up, right?" You murmur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and standing up.

Walking closer to him was quite the feat. It almost hurt because God he stank. Like really. You could feel your eyes tearing up by the time you got close enough to grab his wrist (an entirely unpleasant experience, by the way. You could feel his skin shifting over rotting flesh, not to mention the little bug you were sure had crawled out of him and onto you).

But it was Patrick, so it was okay.

It wasn't any different from any other time he'd come to you a little worse for wear and needed some help.

Well, it was, because he was a lot worse, but still, you would never turn Patrick away.

Once you have him sat down on the toilet, kneeling between his legs, you finally break down, the weight of everything coming crashing down on you like a million structurally unsound buildings; Patrick Hockstetter, your best friend (which was a very loose, and all inclusive term the way you and Pat used it) from practically birth had died -what? less than a month ago? more than that?

Patrick who had been your first friend because your parents were close. Patrick who had been the only kid to play with you on the playground because he was twice as unnerving as you, but you didn't mind. Patrick who has ended up scaring away anyone who could have potentially been your friend for years to come. Patrick, who spent every waking moment at your side, seeing how far he could push you. Patrick who had never said he loved you, but had accepted all of your confessions with glee. Patrick who had introduced you to Vic, and Belch, and Henry, and then laughed in your face when Henry socked you in the eye. Patrick who had stubbed out his cigarettes on your skin, but kissed it better afterwards. Patrick who was your shoulder to cry on, but also the reason you were crying. Patrick who you had never been happier to see.

Patrick who had died.

Or so you thought. You guessed that dying wasn't always permanent. Or you'd just lost it. Either way, you had Patrick back. Calloo callay, right?

Now you don't notice until you taste something salty on your lips that you'd been crying, hopefully not for too long. Too late to care now though.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry 'bout all this. I- Pat, baby, god I missed you." You manage to get out, before you really start sobbing, leaning forward to wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his waist. His cold, foul smelling, honestly disgusting in all ways, waist.

You jump at first when you feel an icy hand on your shoulder, then you remember that it's Patrick, and have the good sense to try and relax a little.

When he was alive, Patrick had hated it when you cried. Mostly cause it was annoying. You hated it when you cried too, so you didn't a lot.

You nod to yourself, pulling away and wiping your eyes, nose, mouth, and anywhere else that you had gotten tears, snot, or saliva. "Sorry." You mutter, still hiccuping a little.

You stand up, keeping a hand on Patrick's shoulder (mostly because you were still afraid this wasn't real, that if you didn't have your eyes on him, couldn't feel him for even a second that he'd go away again and you'd be all alone). You turn on the faucet in the bathtub, keeping your hand under the water until it gets warm, then you plug it.

While you wait for the bathtub to fill, you grab epson salts, bubble bath, a wash cloth. You didn't know what you were doing really. He was a corpse. Should you be bathing him? You didn't know.

You don't ask before grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, bunching it up in your hands as you gently peel it off of his body and over his head, making a conscious effort not to look too closely at any of his wounds, lest you get grossed out.

"Oh God, man. You got it pretty bad. You look like death." You speak mostly to yourself, considering you weren't getting any responses so far. Maybe he couldn't hear you? He did seem to be rather... lifeless, for lack of a better term. Like a zombie.

You press a little kiss to his cheek (a kiss you instantly regret, gagging in your mouth at the intensity of the smell, the texture of his skin, just the shock of kissing him again and it being different), then you pull him to his feet.

Getting his shoes, pants, and underwear off prove to be more challenging. The boots were practically molded into his skin, and the pants were jeans, wet jeans. The only problem with taking off his underwear was how long his legs were and how challenging it was to get him to use his fine motor skills to lift up a foot so you could get them off.

You waste no time squishing the offensive pest between your fingers. Patrick hated leeches, you figured they were the only thing he was afraid of. You hated them, too, but you were afraid of a lot.

Finally, he's naked. He looks essentially the same as he did a month or so ago. He just looks a little worse for wear. You can see very clearly on his legs and waist the seams of his jeans and underwear, and aside from that he's covered in little bite marks pretty much everywhere. You take a small step forward and pull a leech off of his hip, just above where the waistband of his pants would have been.

You clap your hands together with all the excitement of a kindergarten teacher announcing it's finally recess, "Okay! Bath time!"

Usually, Patrick got handsy, mean, aroused, and just tried to make it more trouble than it was worth for you to spend any time with him at all, much less in the shower.

Bathing Patrick turned out to be... a challenge. Not in the same ways it usually was.

Now he wasn't as much like that. He was quiet, didn't try to touch you really. Mostly he just didn't want to be in the water. You got that, you guessed. Maybe he had drowned, or damn near drowned. He looked pretty bloated anyways, the same way those corpses looked in the movies.

You eventually got him in, after some growling, and some trying to walk away, and some scratching (luckily none that broke skin, one of his nails did pop off though and you thought you would vomit right then and there, you didn't though, thank god).

You wash his body as gently as you can, barely touching it with the washcloth. You were a little surprised more of it wasn't peeling off -not to say you weren't grateful that it all seemed to be sticking to him. You're especially careful with the bite marks, though he doesn't seem to notice either way. Probably for the best.

By the time you get to his hair you're ready for scratching again, and you do get a little when you try to push him under (which you figured was a bad idea anyways). You apologize to deaf ears and opt for trying to scoop water onto him with your hands. It doesn't work great, but you're not going for perfect here, just maybe getting rid of any bugs in there.

When you wash his hair, unsurprisingly, you have chunks of it falling out in your hands. It was too bad, you really liked his hair, even if it could be a horrible greasy mess sometimes.

Oh well, it wasn't the end of the world.

You finally finish, unplugging the bath to let it drain while you grab a towel, and Patrick decides that's the perfect time to vomit up some black ooze. Ooze that's particularly disgusting, mixed in with larva and bugs and little chunks of decayed Patrick.

Well, at least he wasn't completely different. Still an asshole.

You spend the next half hour running the water again, rinsing him off, getting him out of the tub and in a towel, and then pouring some drain-o or whatever into the tub, which you were sure would be clogged.

"You wanna talk now?" You ask once you get him back to the solace of your room, dressing him in a pair of pajama pants and a cute matching top, the button up kind. It's blue, which is his favorite color. It's particularly complimentary to his skin tone, now.

You get a sort of hum from him, and can't help but feel a little defeated. But it was Patrick, he'd done worse.

"S'all right. Just as long as you're here." And you press a kiss to his cheek. He still stinks a little, but just like rot, and his skin still feels cold and dead, but it's not so slimy anymore. It's almost like before.

So with that, you get in bed, only after helping him lie down (maneuvering his limbs on his own was still sort of a challenge) and turn off your lamp. Then you turn it back on, you didn't know why. To make sure he hadn't disappeared, you guess.

You could hardly smell him now, it was just one of those things you got used to, you guessed. And when you touched him he didn't feel so cold, not after a while, at least. And well, if you had your eyes closed you couldn't tell how differently he looked. Couldn't see that he only had one eye that probably didn't work for much, or a blue-ish yellow tone to his skin, or the various bite marks, or where you assume blood had begun to pool when he first died, that skin a little darker.

You leave the lamp on, wrapping an arm around Patrick's midsection and hooking a leg over his hips, as close to him as you could physically be.

It was just like normal, really. Before this all happened.

Like tomorrow you two would get up and go see the guys, go goof off and terrorize the Losers.

Like you could come home and tease each other and hang out and talk.

Like two (naive, teenage) lovers.

Like it was you two against the world.

Like it was Patrick and you again.

Like a God and His disciple.

[sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns]

Henpat X Reader Idea’s For You! (Henry Bowers X Patrick Hockstetter)

HENRY BOWERS X PATRICK HOCKSTETTER X READER

Henpat X Ashnikko!Reader

Henpat X Vampire!Reader (inspired by Abigail from Abigail 2024)

Henpat X Werewolf!Reader

Henpat X Yandere!Reader

Henpat X Raven!Reader (inspired by Rachel Roth from titans)

Henpat X Enchantress!Reader

Henpat X Siren!Reader

Henpat X Daki!Reader

Henpat X Harley Quinn!Reader

Henpat X Mermaid!Reader

Henpat X Zombie!Reader

Henpat X Cruella!Reader (2021 cruella version inspired)

Henpat X Sapphire Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but dark blue not red)

Henpat X Mute!Reader

Henpat X Blind!Reader (inspired by Toph beifong from avatar: the last airbender)

Henpat X Demon!Reader

Henpat X Succbus!Reader

Henpat X Rose Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but pink not red)

Henpat X Hydrokinesis!Reader (inspired by Aang from the last Airbender)

Henpat X Pyrokinesis!Reader (you can control and manipulate dark blue fire)

Henpat X Telekinesis!Reader

Henpat X Chorokinesis!Reader

Henpat X Maleficent!Reader

Henpat X Scarlet Witch!Reader

Henpat X Amethyst Witch!Reader (Scarlet witch powers but purple not red)

Henpat X Emarald Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but green not red)

Henpat X Ghostface!Reader

Henpat X Solipsism!Reader

Henpat X Scarley Witch!Reader

Henpat X Ghostrider!Reader (instead of normal fire it’s maroon pink fire instead)

Henpat X Captain Marvel!Reader

Henpat X Ahmanet!Reader

Henpat X Escape Lab!Reader (you Act just like el did in season 1 but you know privacy tho, broken English, Scarlet witch powers but golden not Red, you have a hospital gown on, your tattoo number is 000, etc)

Henpat X Famous!Singer!Reader

Henpat X Nezuko!Reader

Henpat X Mute!Reader (your 100% Mute)

Henpat X Celebrity!Reader

Henpat X Actress!Reader

Henpat X Catwomen!Reader (inspired by the Hallie berry version)

Henpat X Na’vi!Reader

Henpat X Jinx!Resder (Jinx from arcane)

Henpat X Rapper!Reader (inspired by doja cat)

Henpat X Nezuko!Reader

Henpat X Cryokinessis!Reader

Henpat X Jennifer Check!Reader

Henpat X Maleficent!Reader

Henpat X Scarlet Witch!Reader

(A/N: *yawns*….ok well umm hope you like this if wanna see more go see my other posts go ahead there important by the way…and inspiring…*yawns again*…. Your welcome…*falls asleep*)

[knyontop]

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

My Masterlist ! ──★ ˙🩷 ̟ !!

Heres my masterlist for all the fandoms I write for, sense it might be a lil hard to find my posts I decided to make this so people can find my posts easier!! Now I would also like to say for my creepypasta posts the way I used to write them were not very canon but I promise my writing has improved a lot more! xD also please tell me if the links dont work.

Kny fandom ! ──★ ˙🎋 ̟ !!

Inosuke x zombie!reader

How the Hashira would say language

Mitsuri x Teen!Tsuguko!reader

Dom, sub, or switch?

Creepypasta fandom ! ──★ ˙🍮 ̟ !!

Ben drowned x sibling!reader

Creepypasta with a new proxy child reader

Creepypasta x mean!child!reader

There not a monster. (Child!reader)

Creepypasta x childish!teen!reader

Creepyasta x Gyutaro and Daki like child!readers

Platonic yandere creepypasta x shyish!teen!reader

Jeff the killer x fem!coquette!reader

Creepypasta x child!Lonely!reader

Creepypasta x bitchy!reader

Incorrect quote involving teen!reader

Creepypasta x dead!child!reader

Creepypasta comforting child!reader

How Creepyasta would say language

Creepypasta with a quiet reader who can stand up for themselves.

Dating jeff the killer moodboard

Yandere platonic ticci toby x shy!child!reader

Creepypasta x orange cat!reader

Arcane fandom ! ──★ ˙🎀 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

MHA fandom ! ──★ ˙🌸 ̟ !!

Big brother Touya.

Yandere Toga x zombie!reader

South park fandom ! ──★ ˙🍥 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Angels of death fandom ! ──★ ˙🌙 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Fnaf fandom ! ──★ ˙💟 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Descendants fandom ! ──★ ˙🍰 ̟ !!

Incorrect quote

Shameless fandom ! ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Stranger things ! ──★ ˙🍡 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

IT ! ──★ ˙💓 ̟ !!

Incorrect quote involving sibling!reader

Dating Henry bowers moodboard

Dating Patrick Hockstetter moodboard

Dating Victor Criss and Belch Huggins moodboards

Bowers gang hcs

Patrick stalking hcs

Let me explain…

Yandere bowers gang x Ballerina!reader moodboard

Incorrect quote

Toxic Henry hcs

Platonic yandere bowers gang with reader who prefers losers club

Nsfw bowers gang hcs

A sleepover.

Ouat ! ──★ ˙🍙 ̟ !!

Being a little lost kid in neverland moodboard

The outsiders ! ──★ ˙💞 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

The Supernatural ! ──★ ˙👻 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Invincible fandom ! ──★ ˙🍧 ̟ !!

Nothing here yet :( request?

Ocs ! ──★ ˙💕 ̟ !!

Mitsuri x Hanako and Aki (platonic)

Alexander Criss moodboard

Incorrect quotes involving Alex and Bethany

Incorrect quotes involving Alex and Bethany and Sawyer

Bethany x sawyer hcs

Derry halloween

Alex and Marilyn and Bethany passing notes (angst)

Alex and Mari hcs

Ellie jones moodboard

The death of Alexander Criss.

Mari and Fulton hcs

Rainy woods camper

Alexs carrd

Younger Alex incorrect quote

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

[brynnterpretations]

Masterlist ☻

Just looking for fanfictions? All of mine are published on AO3!

Eileen

Fanfictions

Long Goes the Night (Longer the Day)

Eileen Dunlop/Rebecca St. John ┊ “Rebecca was good company.“

It

Bowers Gang

Fanfictions

Suck

Patrick Hockstetter┊ “All his life, Patrick had been chasing that feeling again.“

Napalm Crack Cocaine

Patrick Hockstetter x Reader┊ “Patrick really, really likes you."

Headcanons

Crushing on an Avoidant Reader

Dating a Hearing-Impaired Reader

Dating Patrick Hockstetter

Enneagram Types

Experiencing Vulnerability

Familial Relationships

Fashion Tastes

Favorite School Subjects

Favorite Qualities in Others

Finding Out Their Girlfriend Dated a Girl Before Them

Heights

Henry & Patrick's Relationship

Ideal Partners

In a Zombie Apocalypse

Least Favorite Losers Club Members

Letterboxd Top 4

Lives, Twenty-Seven Years Later

Looks, Twenty-Seven Years Later

Music Tastes

Myers-Briggs Types

Patrick Dating Someone as Crazy as Him

Patrick With a Dominant Reader

Personalities in Songs

Pet Peeves

"POV" Dating Playlists

Preferred Bullying Strategies

Religious & Spiritual Beliefs

Sleeping Schedules

SLOAN Types

Top 4 on Letterboxd

Ship Requests

Ship #1

Ship #2

Ship #3

Ship #4

Ship #5

Ship #6

Ship #7

Ship #8

Ship #9

Ship #10

Ship #11

Ship #12

Ship #13

Ship #14

Ship #15

Ship #16

Losers Club

Fanfictions

And I’ll Be The Biggest Scar On Your Back

Gretta Keene/Beverly Marsh ┊ "Their dads got along."

Vomit My Heart, Pull My Legs Apart

Gretta Keene/Beverly Marsh ┊ "If it was what Beverly was good for, nobody could fault Gretta for wanting a taste."

Greatest Disease

Gretta Keene/Beverly Marsh ┊ "One girl leaves. One girl stays. This is a tale as old as time."

Headcanons

High School Lives

Music Tastes

Ship Requests

Ship #1

West Broadway Girls

Fanfictions

And I’ll Be The Biggest Scar On Your Back

Gretta Keene/Beverly Marsh ┊ "Their dads got along."

Vomit My Heart, Pull My Legs Apart

Gretta Keene/Beverly Marsh ┊ "If it was what Beverly was good for, nobody could fault Gretta for wanting a taste."

Late Night With the Devil

Fanfictions

Forever Needing, Forever Reaching

Jack Delroy/Madeleine Piper ┊ Jack wasn't sure what had happened to him, except for the fact—once speculation, but now a glaringly obvious, nice, Midwestern "fuck you"—that he was indubitably, undoubtedly crazy.

Midnight Mass

Fanfictions

Like Air That Stops From Breathing

Riley Flynn ┊ “Chicken or the egg — that’s what Ms. Keane calls it.“

The Boys

The Coup

Headcanons

Celebrating Your Birthday

Dating Frenchie

Favorite Foods & Meals

Music Tastes

Postsecondary Educations

Romantic Types

Ship Requests

Ship #1

Ship #2

Ship #3

Ship #4

Ship #5

Ship #6

Ship #7

Ship #8

Ship #9

Ship #10

Ship #11

Ship #12

Ship #13

Ship #14

Ship #15

Ship #16

Ship #17

Others

Fanfictions

Where Damage Isn’t Already Done

Victoria Neuman/You ┊ "The worst thing about it is the coffee."

Headcanons

Dating Boss!Victoria Neuman

Sharp Objects

Fanfictions

Heart-Shaped Box

Amma Crellin & Camille Preaker ┊ "Sometimes I think you’re scared of me."

Let Me Clip (Dirty Wings)

Amma Crellin & Camille Preaker ┊ "Amma likes to take things that others haven’t. Camille is an anomaly.“

Wax Me, Mold Me

Camille Preaker ┊ "There was something mechanical about sex to Camille, something almost like cutting"

Shrinking

Fanfictions

Warm Against the Cold

Jimmy Laird/You ┊ "Jimmy���s been crossing the line with his patients.  You, though, are the most egregious case."

Succession

Fanfictions

(You're My) Man of War

Roman Roy/Jeryd Mencken ┊ "Of course, though, Blondi couldn’t just exist. Photos of her and Hitler taking little garden strolls in S.S. Germany were plastered everywhere, as if to say, “Hitler: Gasser of the Jews, Just Like Us”. Roman supposed that it wasn’t any different with Jeryd."

Meta

Writing Style Influences

Writing Substance Abuse

[reggieservices]

Zombie AU, where Patrick is bitten from almost the beginning of the apocalypse but Henry manages to "neutralize" him (he practically only has him gagged to prevent him from biting them), but he refuses to kill him because he really believes that he is still a little conscious and Belch and Vic are not Has the heart to destroy that hope

Stop this genuinely made me sad

Poor Henry trying with all his might to try making Patrick a human again, talking to him, showing him places they used to hang out, showing zombie Pat his old home, things like that. He plays Pat's favourite music, trying anything, just anything to bring him back to the gang. Vic and Reggie are always thinking about talking Henry into ditching or killing Patrick, but they know it will never work because they know he'd never agree. Patrick was their friend, it doesnt matter that he's a zombie now, they could get him back somehow, right? There's gotta be some way. They tie Patrick up when ever they need to be on the move, and keep a gag in his mouth so he doesnt turn any of them. But it breaks Henry's heart, seeing him like this. He just wishes things were back the way they were and that none of this had ever happened.

[i-love-u4ever]

owen teague is pretty

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 357

Picture NOT mine. (Found on google.)

If this picture is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Picture credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2019

*Extended on my Wattpad.

[owenteagueobsessed]

Reversed Roles

Human!Patrick Hockstetter x Zombie!Reader Requested by vengefia: How about human!Patrick hockstetter x zombie!reader? sorry my lousy English! This was fun to write! Thank you for requesting! Fluff! I trip, my filthy boot catching on a log as I struggle to stay upright. “Help...” The words leave my lips as a whisper. “Please...” I collapse near an old refrigerator, my face pressing into the gravel and broken glass littering the ground. My eyes shut as I shut down. “Hey. Wake up.” I shift, expecting to feel glass impaling my skin. Instead I feel the softness of a bed under me. I open my eyes, see a tall, lanky boy standing over me, arms crossed. “She awakens!” I flinch away. “Hi.” He smiles. “Nice to see one you bastards aren’t going to kill me.” I smile as he sits next to me. His fingers wrap around my wrist. “No heartbeat. Interesting.” He shrugs. “Whatever. I guess you’re one of those special cases.” I cock my head. “What does that mean?” He looks away, flicking open a silver lighter. “You’re mostly human, but your not alive.” I look down, frowning. “But it is nice to see you again, Y/N.” I look up, staring into his eyes. Patrick. Patrick Hockstetter. My boyfriend. We got separated when the virus broke out. “Patrick...” He smiles, eyes glittering. “I’ve missed you...” His hand cups the back of my neck, his lips pressing to mine. He pulls away. “You always did say you were dead inside.” I smile.

[bowersgangobsessed]

Maybe Later

Owen Teague x Reader Fluff! My feet kick up dust as I walk onto set. I walk up to Owen’s trailer and open the door. I step in, dropping my coat and turning to see him facing away from me. I walk up and wrap my arms around him. “Hey baby.” His hand reaches for mine and holds it close. “Hi.” I lift my head confused. His voice sounds strange and muffled. “Are you alright?” He turns and I see his face properly. Fake flesh hangs off his face and cloudy contacts cover his usually blue eyes. “Damn.” He smiles, leaning closer to my face as I lean away. He pouts before pulling back. “What? No kiss hello?” I shake my head, smiling slightly. “Not when you look like that babe.” He smirks, the fake flesh squeaking slightly as he moves. “Aw come on baby. You know you like it.” I shake my head, chuckling softly. “Maybe later zombie boy.” He reaches for my hand, bowing slightly. His lips press to my knuckles softly. His eyes stare up at me, milky white and dead looking. “I’ll hold you to it gorgeous.” He stands back up, cupping my face in his hands. His eyes stare at me, pleadingly. “I love you.” I smile, resting my hand on his. He leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you too.” “Owen! Get out here!” He pulls away, his hair swinging slightly. “I’ll be back.” I nod, brushing my lips against his knuckles. “I’ll be here.” He smiles before walking out into the bright outside world.

[vampiradelmal]

Apocalypse (Henry x Reader)

AN: Okay lol surprise! Sorry, it took forever to get it but it’s here. This is a reader x Henry Bowers imagine.

Warning: Death, gore, blood, fighting, killing, y’know… all the apocalyptic stuff.

It wasn’t every day in boring old Derry that something interesting happened. Especially something like your geometry teacher turning into a horror movie creature before your very eyes.

It was a mostly normal fifth period. Lunch had just ended, and you were now sitting in your seat in your math class. Nobody liked math class. Not that math class, at least. Even if you loved the subject, this teacher sure made you want to switch back to algebra 1. The blonde, grouchy Miss Levin roamed the classroom lazily, which was out of character for her. She was slouching and her feet were dragging as she quietly groaned. She passed by your table, which you shared with three of your peers, one of them being Henry Bowers. You looked at Miss Levin as she passed by you and heard some kids snicker when Henry mumbled something.

“Are you okay, Miss Levin?” You asked politely. She stopped walking and slowly teetered back and forth.

“Miss Levin?” A girl at your table reached out and gently tapped her shoulder. After a few seconds, Miss Levins collapsed to the ground. There were some shrieks of shock and comments of surprise as some of your peers eagerly got up to surround Miss Levin and see what was going on.

“Somebody go get another teacher! I think she’s having a seizure!” Somebody frantically kneeled down to check on Miss Levin as another student ran out to get a teacher.

Miss Levin was on the ground convulsing while shaking and making noises that could be compared to a pig going to the slaughter. You sat there with wide eyes, watching as foam dropped from her mouth and her nose bled.

“Oh, my god…” you whispered and got up from your seat. The other kids were panicking, but Henry seemed calm and as nonchalant as ever. His eyes were dark and brooding with his eyebrows furrowed and a smirk on his face. "Bowers stop smirking! Our teacher is having-" a girlish scream followed by growling, screams, and shouts of panic and fear cut you off. You turned around fully expecting to see your teacher dead on the ground, but what you saw was something that would probably traumatize you for the rest of your days.

The student who was kneeling to help Miss Levin, a girl whom you’d gone to school with since elementary, was now lying on the ground, screaming her head off as your geometry teacher mauled her. You couldn’t help but feel sick as you watched your teacher bite the skin off the girl’s face. There was still screaming, but it wasn’t from the girl. She was dead the instant Miss Levin took a bite out of the exposed flesh of her skull. It was a terrifying scene, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away even as tears rolled down your face and you exclaimed in panic and horror.

Miss Levin, or whatever mouth-foaming creature this was, looked up at you after you screamed. Her mouth and face were red from her victim’s blood. She grinned crazily as she got up and ran towards you. Her run was slouched and lazy, like those zombies in the movies they played in the Aladdin.

Your eyes widened and you let out a blood-curdling scream. All you could do was close your eyes, waiting for it to be over as quick as possible. Nothing came, though. You opened your eyes to see Henry Bowers standing over Miss Levins’ corpse with the 700 page Geometry textbook in his hand. You panted heavily and whimpered as you backed away from the pale green body of your teacher.

“We gotta get out of here,” Henry said, looking at his classmates. Everybody stared at him with fear, but Henry seemed as calm as ever. “Where’s that kid who was supposed to get another teacher?” Henry asked, and just like clockwork, that kid came running into the classroom with a look of fear.

One boy in the class was quick to open the door and let the kid inside before slamming it shut again. The kid was panting and staring around the room frantically. “What’s up with you?” Henry asked.

The kid paled, and it was silent as a stampeding sound of running could be heard heading towards their classroom. Through the windows beside the door, you could see a small group of 4 zombie teachers running toward the door. Blood and foam trickling out of their mouths and down their clothes. They reached the door. They broke the glass beside the door after a zombie teacher bashed it with their hand. Teens screamed bloody murder as they all panicked. And that was the last thing you remembered before all hell broke loose.

Now here you were, in Belch Huggin’s trans am in the school parking lot with Henry Bowers. You were silent and thinking about what had just happened while Henry was fuming. Both of your clothes were bloodstained, and yours were also tear-stained. It was about 20 minutes ago that you jumped out of the classroom window and ran to the gate with a bunch of your classmates to hop on it. Sadly, some of your peers never made it out of the classroom, while others were getting plucked off the fence by zombie teachers right beside you. Screaming as they got devoured alive. You hopped the fence by whatever miracle and ran. You weren’t sure where, but you saw a familiar mullet of blonde greasy hair and followed it.

Your thoughts snapped you back to your current state, and you looked at Henry. He seemed to be more angry than scared.

“If Belch doesn’t get here right now,” Henry muttered. You didn’t want to say it, but the worst came to mind.

“… What if your friends are dead, Henry?” You asked with a breaking voice.

“Shut up. They’re not dead.” The conversation ended after Henry’s warning.

You waited and waited till the next period bell rang. Henry was losing hope until he saw three shadows in the parking lot making their way towards the car. He glanced back at you from the front seat and sighed.

“Wait here.” He got out and went to the shadows with his switchblade. You watched curiously as the shadows revealed themselves as Belch Huggins, Victor Criss and Patrick Hockstetter.

Never in your life had you been happier to see those goons. Tears welled, and you looked down in shame before they could see that you were crying. After seeing your classmates die and teachers turn undead, you couldn't help but feel relieved to see that some people survived. Even if they were the school bullies. The four of them calmly stalked towards the car before getting in. Belch in the driver's seat, Henry in the passenger, Patrick and Vic on the right and left side backseats, and you in the middle.

Patrick set his sights on you and immediately smirked. "Who's the chick?" He licked his lips and leaned into you, ignoring the fact that you were crying and shaking.

"Leave her alone, Hockstetter." Henry glanced back at Patrick. "We got to worry about escaping this zombie-infested hell hole before you get at some snatch. Alright?" Henry raised his brow at Patrick, who nodded in return. Victor looked at you and gulped before putting on his seatbelt.

"Buckle up boys. We're in for a bumpy ride," Belch said, a big, almost maniacal smirk plastered on his face as he drove out of the school's parking lot. With every zombie he saw, teacher or peer, he'd run them over. The boys cheered as they felt the corpse bump under the tires.

You felt scared and your mind was racing. The cheers and constant speed bumps which were corpses, paired with the thrash metal Belch was blaring, was giving you a killer migraine and made it feel like you were on speed.

You lost track of time in the car as you rolled up into a ball with your hands over your ears and tears streaming down your face. When the car came to a halt, you returned to reality. Opening your eyes, you saw a farmhouse. Henry's house. The guys all poured out of the car and you didn't have time to question it before Henry was dragging you out. They stood in front of the house, observing it.

"Who goes in first?" Victor asked. To that question, the guys snickered.

"You scared, Criss?" Patrick taunted the thin blonde and made chicken noises.

"There could be a zombie asshole!" Victor exclaimed and scoffed.

Tired of hearing them argue, Henry rolled his eyes and marched towards the house. He entered it. Feeling brave and badass, Henry looked around before going upstairs to look into his father's weapon safe.

The gang followed suit and followed Henry into the house. Victor and Belch ransacked all the canned food in the pantry while Henry and Patrick checked out weapons and got all the ones they could find.

After an hour of ransacking the house, the group decided to call it a night and got ready for bed after an impromptu dinner of whatever was in the fridge.

To your surprise, the four musty boys actually showered. Though they were covered in blood and grime, any normal person would want to get it off of them with a nice, hot shower. You showered last and to your embarrassment; you had to peek your head out from the bathroom and call for one boy to bring you spare clothes.

After a few minutes, you wobbled out of the bathroom wearing just Henry's shirt and panties, which may or may not have belonged to one of his old flings. You sat there on Henry's bed with the other boys in embarrassment. They were staring at you hungrily. Even during an apocalypse, four teenage boys still had the time to gawk at a girl in panties. Pathetic. You rolled your eyes and laid down on your side, your back facing them as you rest your head on a pillow.

"Good night boys," you said, slightly annoyed. Belch was the only one that responded with a goodnight. Since your back was facing them, you couldn't see what the shuffling noise around you was. Patrick, Belch, and Victor left the bedroom to sleep in the living room while Henry laid beside you in bed.

"Good night," Henry said finally, after a few awkward moments of silence.

"Thanks for saving me back there." You turned your body to face Henry. He was staring into your eyes intensely.

"Don't mention it." Without a word, Henry put his arms around you and just held you against his chest like a child with a toy. He nuzzled his face into your neck and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. A few less awkward moments passed before you heard soft snores. Henry was asleep and soon, so were you.

WAIT U DO IMAGINES??? ILY

could u do one with Henry? Literally the topic could be anything just surprise us

You asked this so long ago and I’m barely replying to it. But yes. I will make one for you soon. Sorry for the late reply!

[doeeyedmeanie]

Hii theree , i was wondering if you would ever consider writing a zombie patrick hockstetter x reader fic? like please i cant find any , anywhere😭😭 and your one of the best authors ive ever read

omg this is like the biggest compliment ever !! Thank you!! Yes yes i can eeeek!!!

Please give me your opinions on it! I can always write another or maybe more !!!

p2 here

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The quarry within Derry stood at a stand still, the dark forest surrounding it becoming quiet , eerily quiet. Way too quiet for a place full of wildlife especially this late into the summer, the rivers were usually busy with the new species of fish and the woods way too full with noisy birds who flew at the sound of every movement or even smaller animals that ran at the sound…but not this summer..no no something was different. There was a darkness hidden beneath, breathing in every sign of life and engulfing it into the darkness. The grief buried in Derry didn’t help , the church bells sounding every time a child went missing, the crumbled and weathered missing children posters drowning each wall or street . The usual sounds of happiness in the streets or along rows of houses now gone, replaced with fear from both children and adults …

You’d stood there , searching for any hope or sign of your old friends or even your old boyfriend ; Patrick Hockstetter. Patrick wasn’t the one to just go missing, you knew as much or at least you hoped you did, he’d tell you if he ever was to stray off or even pack his things and go. Patrick would share his every thought, every feeling ; morbid or not , they’d spill out no matter what or where. Sometimes in intimate moments or even when you were about to sleep, he’d snuggle close and whisper something that would for sure keep you awake a little longer . He’d never play a sick joke on you, not when you were the only other real person around and especially not when you were sworn to keep the secret of the fridge and the horrors kept deep in it. You stood there , water lapping at your boots as you stared down at the lake ; genuinely debating if the search was even worth it. He’d been missing for months now and each one felt less and less hopeful. You’d seen him before he left , that stupid smile on his face as he’d kissed you and left . Promising to come back…and he hadn’t . You cried at first , cried so hard you’d broke your skin and so hard your throat had swelled. You were tired , too tired to sleep and too tired to eat. You knew Patrick wasn’t missing, a part believed he’d been murdered or maybe kidnapped and the other..the other just chose to ignore any option. You couldn’t handle the actual thought of your boyfriend coming to harm, it’d kill you if they’d found his body first . You wanted to find it, incase there was some sort of fighting chance he was still there..but every day until curfew you search and each time became less and less hopeful. It just became exhausting, your hopes highering just to crash back down again and send you home with a tear stained face and a broken, blooded bottom lip.

A snap alerted you this time, snapping you from each and every thought you had right now. Your head turned , eyes narrowing in the direction of one of the pipes , the setting sun hitting it and making the pair of eyes staring back at yours appear darker..almost red in the light. You’d quickly shook your head and blinked away, the lack of sleep finally making you delirious…right? You’d turned , taking that as a sign that you were ready to go home and that this. This lack of sleep, this lack of genuine happiness was getting to you, that the grief had finally fully hit and you were suffering. You’d practically hurried out of there , ankles rolling as you sprinted away like some sort of hunted deer.

The darkness over Derry soon became rain, hard rain . The kind that left you soaking , cold and in pain from the sheer heaviness of it , you’d practically pushed yourself through your door . Running upto your room to change and dry off, not able to shake off the feeling of being watched . Your mind spiralling , body cold , heart racing straight out of your chest and into your throat . You’d changed into one of Patrick’s old shirts and a pair of old shorts , jumping into your bed and hiding under the blankets like a scared child. You’d heard thumping from each step and corner of the house , each one nearing closer and closer. You’d prayed it was just your blood rushing , creating some sort of noise..but a part of you knew it was something..someone else. The pair of eyes from the quarry, perhaps they’d followed you home and broke in. You tried to shake it off, convincing yourself it was a lack of sleep.

A lack of sleep that made your skin crawl and your stick up right..? The kind that made your leg be pulled , the blankets dropped from your body, a weird force that pushed you upwards and deeper into your bed. The kind that groaned and growled , that sank in your bed and hovered over you. The kind that looked like your boyfriend only greyer, only bruised and more bloodied . The kind that made your boyfriend look dead. Insanely dead. The kind that made your eyes stay stuck and your lips open. The kind that stopped you from even reacting. This wasn’t real, it was a lack of sleep..right ? A lack of sleep that somehow made your boyfriend appear right infront of you..sure.

Whatever this…was , it was Patrick. Patrick Hockstetter. Patrick Hockstetter who’d been missing for months . Patrick Hockstetter who’d been your boyfriend of a year. Patrick Hockstetter who’d broke a kids noise for looking at you wrong Patrick Hockstetter who’d snuck into your room multiple times to make out with you and ask you weird questions. Patrick Hockstetter who believed death didn’t exist and if it did then everything around him would die too. Patrick Hockstetter. A dead Patrick Hockstetter.A version of Patrick Hockstetter that didn’t exist..right.? Right.

Your eyes slammed shut , mumbling some sort of pleas for your mind to just go back to normal. Only when they opened again were they met with the same eyes you’d fallen inlove with , the same eyes that’d stare into yours every day, the same eyes that’d been fascinated with you. You froze , not wanting to believe that this was real. Oh but a part of you longed for it to be real, for your Patrick to be back and set everything into place again.

“Pat..?” You mumbled , sitting up as you analysed the boy infront of you. He looked like Patrick, had that same wild look in his eyes, had the same clothes on that you’d last seen him in, had the same hair, the same features, the same mannerisms.He didn’t speak back for a moment, his hands bruised and bloody only gently moving upto you and cupping your face . His eyes scanning your face , lips parting as he pressed his forehead against yours .

“I’m real.” He hummed out , the same voice you’d grown so accustomed to, the same hands that you’d grown attached to, the same smell you’d loved. He stared , lips smirking before they hit yours . Softly as to not startle you before he pulled away again.

“How-“

“‘m not sure..” He shrugged before giggling, that same manic laugh he’d always had. You were relieved, a lot relieved but something was off , he didn’t feel like Patrick. He behaved, looked, sounded like him but he wasn’t him, your Patrick was warm, meaty, alive. He didn’t feel like a corpse , like a cold slab holding you right now..

“You feel dead…” The words left your lips before you could even process them.

“I feel dead..” He scoffed out, eyes narrowing for a moment, “pretty sure i am.” He pulled away, scanning for you a hint of something other than fear .

“you’re dead…?” You scoffed out, convinced you were actually just going insane. Your body hitting your bed frame , eyes stuck on him before your body actually processed it , your mind now running wild and your heart racing more than ever.

“But i’m real..so i’m not.” He shrugged , typical Patrick to blow off something so important. His hand moved up to his shirt, lifting it to show off some open wound . A small wound that mirrored that of a small bite mark, still there, unhealed, open and decaying. The sight was enough to make your tears stream, head snapping away as you gasp, “pretty sure this would’ve healed if i was dead..huh?” His head tilted in your direction as your hand shooed him away. His hands coming up to drop his shirt and his smirk coming back, that maniacal laugh leaving his lips.“Crazy..huh? I’m like one of those undead-“

“You’re seriously laughing..?” Your eyes snapped back to him, you were hurt..angry and overall confused. Your boyfriend goes missing, somehow dies and comes back like it’s all normal..like this was an average day for him. He froze , smirk stopping for a moment before he shook his dead . His eyes narrowing .

“Please this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m real .” He scoffed out, nice to know patrick’s deluded mind was still intact . His only thought being about how he was real, how he’d probably cheated death and how it all made sense cause he was the only real thing on this planet..besides well you…

“You went missing for months. Do you have any idea how fucking insane this is?” You’d gasped out, head shaking and voice trembling, too close to crying to even care that you were arguing with your dead boyfriend, “and you’re just sat there laughing like it’s normal-“

He froze again, eyes scanning before his arms pushed you into him, his hands playing with your hair , “i’m real, i’m…real..” He whispered, “i survived death..i’m-“ He froze , his mind finally realising why you were so hurt and so confused , “listen I…i don’t know what happened. One minute I was going about my day and the next I wake up in the sewers and covered in blood. I’ve poked the holes, no pain. No pain anywhere . I’m like dead..” He mumbled , pushing your head upto face his, “but i’m here…i’m not gonna go again. “

You stared up at him, “you have no idea how hard it’s been.” You whisper out , eyes scanning his face , “i thought you’d left me..” that earned a scoff from him, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of him ever leaving you..not after he’d stalked you for months and became so obsessed with you that he’d broke into your house just to convince you to date him. “I didn’t wanna believe you’d leave me but it just got worse and worse every day, Patrick I thought you died.”

“I did die and i’m somehow back here , with my girlfriend who i’ve missed and who’s actually like a total pussy right now-“ He smirked and you’d instinctively hit him, watching his face contort before a barrel of laughter left his lips, you were hurt and somehow Patrick didn’t even realise how much his disappearance had affected you. Maybe it was his lack of empathy, awareness or maybe it was because his death only felt like mere seconds. “I missed you too..only every thought about getting back to you..” He hummed out, lips capturing yours before he’d pushed you closer . You’d complied , letting him as you accepted that your boyfriend…dead or undead… had come back. To you.

“Missed you more..you don’t understand how much I needed you.” You admitted , hands tangled in the mess of his hair but you’d worry about that later..you’d worry about the mess later or even how this was going to work later. None of it mattered right now.

“‘m here now..never gonna leave again until you kill me..which is gonna be like hard since i’m already dead..” He joked , pushing you so close that your warmness had finally reached his coldness creating some sort of luke warm sensation between the two of you, his hands trialing your hips , his lips finding yours before finally fully capturing them….

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thank you…! Remember you are loved ! Remember to eat, drink and most importantly rest !!