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s-4pphics · 11 months

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where we meet. (e.w.)

when ur a monsterfucker n its kinktober lol am i right guys

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

wc;cw: 17.8k, baker!oc, demon!ellie, HEAVY ANGST [mentions underage drinking + alcoholism + drunk driving + car accidents + death], oc’s an eldest daughter… yeah, HORROR? [gore + animal death/mutilation? + vomit + idk scary shit like blood n stuff], SMUT!!!!![HEAVY DUBCON + sexual tension + ellie shape shifts LOL + her tongue is barbed and forked and long like a fruit rollup + blood drinking + fucking outside HAHA + splash of sadism + edging + tentacles WOOO THIS BITCH IS SHAKING THE TABLE!!! + pain kink + spit but venomous + lots of cum/squirting + anal/d!p + err restraint? + oral + crazy size kink + dirty talk + masturbation? + dumbification/mind break + dacryphilia + burning/marking

“Alright, my love! A dozen red velvet cupcakes, four slices of carrot cake, and ten brownies!”

You handed two large brown bags filled with desserts over to your favorite regular, Roxanna, “I threw in two complementary cannolis, don’t tell Hattie, please!” You whispered.

The older woman laughed, turning to depart with the sweet treats, “She ain’t getting a word outta me. Thank you, baby. See you soon.”

“Have an amazing birthday! Try not to get too rowdy on that yacht, now!”

“Girl, I’m grown! If one of my guests show up without a bottle, they ain’t gettin’ on, point blank!” You both giggled.

She blew you a kiss and scurried off, the small bell above the door ringing at her exit. You sighed and scurried to the back and into the kitchen, untying your apron and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

“I know you ain’t tryna disrupt my craft right now. You know better!” The elderly woman had her gray hairs pinned back under her hair net, practically squatting near the counter as she perfected the icing job on the three-layered wedding cake, shrouded in gold and sparkly silver. Your heart grew fonder at the slight tremble in her hands as she piped sprouts of buttercream around the cake topper.

Hattie, despite her stubbornness, was reason your… fresh start went so smoothly. Meeting her was a blessing in disguise; It was raining when you stumbled upon the old bakery she worked at years ago. You’d just moved as far as you could from your hometown, in desperate need of a job. She turned down your desperate pleads time and time again, that is until you showed up to the shop one last time, drenched in rain, with your homemade red velvet cake.

She’d nearly cracked you with a broom herself when she saw you standing by the service stand, but you pleaded one last time, and left the foil wrapped dish on the register counter without another word. You’d piqued her interest. Just a smidge.

You’d received a call from a random number — the owner of the shop— days later, offering you a position at the local bakery.

As a dishwasher.

Your victory didn’t last long, however. Turns out your boss was a thieving bastard, cutting all the employee's earnings by a third months after you were hired. You were shocked no one shoved a piping bag up his ass.

Weeks later, you were out of a job. And so was Hattie.

… Did she reluctantly ask you for tips on how you made your cake that moist as you two waited for the bus, hairnets still on? Absolutely. And you shared them on the ride back to her small home.

She swiftly became your support, your right-hand man, your newfound comfort only after a few months. You silently thank the universe for her everyday; You couldn’t imagine opening your spot without her with you, making sure to double — triple whatever shit pay her previous boss gave her.

“C’mon, Roxie just picked up. We needa head out now,” Closing was always a hassle whenever Hattie was in the zone. The extra five minutes she often requested easily turned into an hour if not regulated; Bless her heart.

She sighed and stretched, “Alright,” Reluctance in her tone. “You’re lucky my grandkids are coming to see me tomorrow!” She set her piping bag down and allowed you to stroll the wedding cake into the walk-in fridge.

Hattie hardly ever asked for time off; You practically have to shove her out your bakery doors every Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, New Years! The only request — demand she’s ever made was no work on Halloween. She gave you explicit instructions when you hired her years ago: don’t call my phone during the day of evil!

Her request threw you for a whirl at first. You assumed she was joking because what seventy-year-old woman still cares about Halloween and its lore? When she hadn’t laughed with you, however, you apologized and offered her three days off for the end of October. Everyone deserves to be with their family, regardless of time of year.

You wished you had someone to call during the cozy Fall.

You threw yourself into work the second you got the chance. Opening your bakery a year ago was something you’d been working towards since you made your first batch of cupcakes at ten years old. You and your mother baked until your arms burned from kneading years after that, and the hobby swiftly became your down time. Your shop was small and crowded, but your name was printed on the door.

You never thought you’d be able to own anything after the last decade of being locked up, after the accident you’d caused.

That horrid day and its repercussions continues to loom over you like a dark cloud no matter where you go, filling your life with trails of dread that refuse to be washed away. You lost your family, some friends, a potential partner, and it was all because of one mindless decision during your reckless and dark teenage years.

To put it bluntly, you never recovered. Everyday is a struggle, but you’ve managed to distract yourself with work. Your newfound friends hate that they never see you, but you beg them to accept that you're busy whenever you receive an invitation to dinner.

Sadly, your accomplishments are not companions, and your heart is forever vacant. Nothing — or no one — will change that.

No matter how many times you’ve tried to reach out to your loved ones, your calls go unanswered. You came to terms with the fact that they’ll always see you as the force that destroyed their unity — the disappointment, ages ago, but your heart still longs for their affection.

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday.

“You comin’?”

Miss Hattie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as you silently walked her to the door, her work bag in hand and ready to go.

“No, ma’am. Still gotta check the inventory.”

She sucked her teeth, “I coulda still been decorating— “

“Enough of that! Get on home!” You waved her off with a smile.

“Uh huh,” She rolled her eyes and left with a nod, “See you next week!”

You waved goodbye, shutting the door fully and flipping the open sign to close.

You stretched your arms above your head, your achy shoulders and neck popping with stiffness. All you wanted was a fucking massage.

You made your way back to the kitchen, clipboard in hand, marking off products that desperately needed refilling. What kind of bakery runs out of sugar? Sugar!

The bus ride home was nauseating; You need your own car desperately.

You politely greeted your neighbors as they left the elevator before heading to your floor. The late afternoon sun was blooming through the hallway windows of your building. You unlocked your door, the waft of cool air from the open window in your living room brushing your skin.

You tossed your bag off your shoulders, and it thudded to the floor, the overworked bones in your arms cracking when you stretched them up at the ceiling.

The small ball of fur rubbing against your leg rejuvenated you in seconds.

Your cat meowed happily when you bent down to plant kisses on her head. She followed you into the kitchen as you heated the kettle on the stove, hopping onto the counter to watch you work.

“You know better. Get down,” your eyes squinted.

She only tilted her head at you before sitting on the granite completely. You were too tired to move her.

Whistles erupted from the small hole in the pot minutes later. You filled your mug to the brim with the soothing herbal tea your friends gave you before heading into your bedroom.

You closed your blinds and undressed completely, plopping onto your blankets, taking sips from your mug as exhaustion and warmth flooded your body.

The last thing you remember was your cat walking all over your back.

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

Your body shook awake at the pounding coming from the entrance of your home. Anxiety surged in your gut when the loud knocks against wood came to a sudden halt, only to start up again, even more frantic and aggressive.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

You kicked your blankets off and sat up, your sweaty form clinging to the sheets as you searched around your room. Everything was where it was supposed to be, but your door was wide open. You never leave your door open. Did you shut your door when you came home from…

Where were you before this?

You called for your cat once, twice, three times, but she never came. Your apartment was always quiet, but this silence… It was weighted, a heavy press on your chest.

You don’t remember how you got into your living room, but your toes were digging into the soft fluff of your rugs, attempting to sketch into the floor. Even the slightest movement felt like a fight against sludge. Like trekking through the rain in drenched clothes. The knocks didn’t cease, and was synced with the pounding in your ears.

The walls were breathing. Why couldn’t you breathe? You swore you were going to throw up.

The painted plaster moved in waves, your door plunging in and out of its frame, back and forth like a pendulum, but you couldn’t see behind it; Your toenails scratched harder into the floor. You couldn’t stop staring at the door. Every nerve in your brain was urging you to run, find a place to hide, but your body wouldn’t allow it. You simply stood, trapped in a cloud of distress.

The banging stopped and you inhaled, air finally filling your lungs. The feel of fabric beneath your toes was no longer there: something softer than hardwood. Something squishy, something sticky and wet with hair. Your nails tore into it, oddly comforted by the sensation.

All was quiet again, the familiar steadiness of your home calming your racing heart.

Until a weak, wheezing exhale came from beneath you; You nearly missed it. Your heart rate skyrocketed when you peered at your feet.

Your cat’s neck and stomach were sliced open, her small organs pouring out of the large slit in her body. Maggots and spiders were crawling all over her, your feet completely drenched in her blood and your nails plunged deep into her decomposing skin. The insects devouring your nearly dead pet rushed up your legs at an alarming rate, tearing into your thighs like desperate rats fiending for a meal.

You woke up screaming.

“Girl…”

“I don’t know why that happened! I’ve never had a dream like that before!” All the lights were on in your home, your kitty purring in your lap as you stroked her comfortingly. “I know it’s late but can you come over? I’m honestly… freaked out right now.”

Your good friend, Celeste, exhaled over the line, “… Yeah,” she resigned. “Gimmie ten minutes. I love you. Just… try to relax.”

You breathed when she told you to, your head bobbing like she could see you, “Okay. I love you too.”

You almost didn’t want to hang up, but you’d already bothered your friend enough tonight. It’s been a while since you two hung out together; You hope she’s up for a sleepover!

Your kitty nuzzled your chin affectionately. You hoped she knew you would never hurt her.

“I’ve never been so horrified in my life!” You spoke around the sugary spoon in your mouth. “Dreams have never… felt like that for me. I swear, it doesn’t matter how deep my sleep paralysis is! I felt like I was really,” you quickly peered around the room for your kitty, praying she couldn’t hear you. “Stepping on her body! My poor angel.”

Celeste shoveled more ice cream into her mouth, “Girl, that’s fucking crazy,” she assured, nodding towards your sleeping baby on the table. “Just remember that nothing actually happened. You love her and she loves you.”

She continued after a heavy sigh. “But you know me. Dreams, nightmares, they’re all from something, and if it felt as real as you say…” Her brow arched at you. What the fuck is she talking about?

Her eyes rolled in exasperation, “Isn’t your coworker, like… mad superstitious? Queen, but still. The devil’s working, girl.”

You took a deep breath like she instructed a billion times over since she’s arrived. A smirk grew on her face.

“Plus… it’s that time of year. ,” she stuck her tongue out and playfully grabbed her tits, “We gettin’ slutty. Gotta show out for Scorpio season. I made my own costume.”

Your nerves calmed at the reminder of your friends' packed weekend. Since your only true time off was during the spooky season, they always encouraged you to join them in their reckless behavior, especially during your time off. You resigned from partying a long time ago, but did indulge in the lively atmosphere from time to time during the holiday season.

“You’re right,” you sighed and placed your hands over the resting ones on her chest.

“Thank you! Take that damn chef hat off!” she scolded. “No more business talk until— “

“Next week, I know,” you mocked, “And I don’t wear chef hats, thanks.”

“Don’t give a shit about any of that. I’m getting pipe tomorrow night,” Celeste fell back on the sofa, giddily kicking her feet in the air.

A hearty chuckle escaped you. Maybe you’d meet someone too.

You were finally able to get some rest— thank god for Celeste — and start organizing your costumes for the… large sum of parties they planned to drag you to.

You still haven’t completely recovered from your nightmare two nights ago. The vivid imagery that your subconscious conjured up still gives you the ick, but for the sake of your friends, you chose not to bring it up again. You silently thanked the universe when you managed to get a full nine hours the night before.

Your friends managed to pull you into the Halloween spirit and take you to… Spirit. Despite the void stares from your friends at your costume choices, you settled on the Zelda outfit that’d been on sale at Party City for the past two weeks. Celeste couldn’t stop herself from… cutting your costume up and making it as revealing as possible. She opted to cut off the sleeves, sew the pants into a skirt that hugged your body way too tightly, and did your makeup how she wanted. You didn’t stand a chance against her.

You despised how hot clubs get; You probably looked like you were melting.

You stayed as far away from the bar as you could, watching your friends down shot after shot as the night progressed. Your surroundings were crowded and stuffy, the bass of the DJ booth rattling from your feet all the way up to your chest. Your moves were sloppy and disoriented, but Celeste was behind you, grabbing your hips and supporting your weight.

Your thoughts were hazy and incoherent as your arms waved around to the beat. The music blasting in your ears turned into white noise; The environment completely entranced you, your eyes shutting at the weightlessness of your clammy body.

The hands behind you were suddenly grabbing tighter, yanking you closer, as you continued to dance.

You pushed back onto them and their arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, yanking you close, your clammy flesh practically melding with theirs. Their scent engulfed you, rich and deep yet distinct. Your arm wrapped around the back of their neck, pulling them down while their hands explored your hips.

Their lips were on your neck, your head resting on their shoulder. Something hot was stirring in the pit of your stomach the more they swayed you, the arch in your back deepening; You haven’t felt wanted in so long.

You tried to spin to face them, but they held you still, pressing their chest into your backside. Your breaths picked up when they bit the most sensitive spot on your neck, your toes curling in your heeled boots, your manicured nails nearly chipping in your stockings.

Their mouth moved higher and higher, right under your ear, the hand coming up to wrap around your throat to hold you still. Your core squeezed as the grip on your neck tightened… and tightened… your airways were closing, and swiftly, the feeling was no longer pleasant. Your eyes snapped open when they didn’t let up, a shocked gasp escaping your dry mouth. The moment was no longer sensual, but straining and forceful. Almost angry.

Your lust turned to panic instantly, your eyes bulging as your nails dug into their hands, their taut thighs, their wrist, but they didn’t budge. You thrashed and shook with terror. You gasped for air and tried to push them off but it was all for naught.

Nobody came to help you. Suddenly all the faceless bodies around you were gone, heaps of black smoke pooling at your feet as you wailed for Celeste. The hands and lips were replaced with razor sharp claws and fangs as cold as ice against the side of your face, murmuring voices and screaming chants roaring in your ears. The former body grew monstrous, tripling in size and darkening.

The sensation of decaying, bloody skin was at your feet once more, fiery red ants and black widows nipping at your skin as the smoke flooded up your body, swallowing your calves, thighs, waist.

Weak shouts and begs for release went unheard by the force behind you. A faint whisper of your name made you sob harder; You’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

The whisper called your name again. And again. And again, much louder and urgent. Desperate for a response but all you could do was holler for your mother.

One last shout of your name made you drop to the floor, all the sensations surrounding your body gone. Your crown clanked onto the vibrating hardwood as drunk clubgoers gawked at you in confusion and annoyance, Celeste and your friends staring in concern, reaching to help you up.

But you couldn’t be touched. Any brush on your skin surged your heart to your throat. You needed to get the fuck out of here.

Your friends kept yelling about what happened, how they could help, but you couldn’t speak. You swore you were going to vomit.

You pushed yourself off the hardwood and through the crowd, away from your friends, away from everyone. Your smudged makeup stained your wrists, the shouts of your name going unheard as you shoved passed security and ran into the night.

You didn’t sleep at all that night.

You immediately left the club, hauled a taxi, and ran up into your apartment, double — triple checking to make sure all your doors were locked and windows were closed. You tore your costume off your body and threw it into your garbage before hopping into the shower. You desperately wanted to wash your hair, but you refused to close your eyes. The darkness when you blinked was haunting enough.

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified.

Your body trembled under the steaming water, soft sobs escaping while you scrubbed your skin raw. Especially your shoulder.

Your phone rang off the hook until the sun rose, your kitty refusing to leave your lap. She never failed to comfort you in your times of need, but you barely rubbed her all night. All you could do is cry and think.

Your friends pounded on your door multiple times, but you refused to move from your bed. Their frantic knocking was very reminiscent of the pounding in your nightmare. You couldn’t shake how real everything felt: the comfort, the desire, the destress, the pure, unfiltered terror at the imagery of you being eaten alive by darkness. If you could even call it that: imagery.

Imagery is not enough to describe what you experienced. You were attacked in public, and no one bothered to help you. Nobody… saw anything.

You’re not fucking crazy.

Your friends were sweet enough to stop by the same afternoon with candles and lavender-scented bath bombs after your public breakdown. Their efforts at lifting your spirits didn’t go unnoticed, but your thoughts kept racing, every time you shut your eyes, even for a few seconds. How the hell were you going to explain what you saw that night?

Despite your friends’ skepticism, you were eventually able to convince them that you felt severely claustrophobic and the lack of air sent you spiraling.

… It wasn’t a complete lie, at least.

You were able to get some minuscule hours of sleep after they left before it was time to prepare for your shift. Dark circles were imprinted under your eyes, your skin was dry, and your uniform was not ironed, but you were up and moving. Small victories.

Your hand was practically glued to your forehead in extreme fatigue, your eyes burning at the brightness of your computer screen as you checked the time. Your emails always boomed during this time of year as people prepared for the holiday season; A good night's sleep seemed even farther away now.

You swiftly replied to each request with your availability before grabbing your bag and keys, kissing your kitty goodbye, and running down to the bus stop.

You greeted every familiar face with a polite smile before entering the already packed vehicle, the beginnings of a rising sun beaming through the scratched windows. You plopped onto the only available seat — farthest away from your neighbors — with a heavy exhale, your head falling against its rest.

This week is going to be so gruesome for orders; You prayed Ms. Hattie was prepared for it.

Returning to work was just as draining as you’d assumed.

Your business line has been ringing off the hook all morning, people asking for dozens of gingerbread cookies and wedding cakes layered to the ceiling. You could make a nest for yourself right on the clean tiles of the kitchen and nap.

You’ll never know how Ms. Hattie did it: wakes up at five in the morning and moves through decorating like a walk in the park. You can barely lift your arms and it’s only hour three.

You whipped egg whites and sugar like your life depended on it — it did — with your landline tucked between your shoulder and ear, reciting pick-up addresses and numbers in voicemails. You’re so fucking tired.

Hattie wasn’t, though. Just quiet. A bit too quiet.

She hasn’t said much since you’ve arrived. She got to the shop much earlier than expected, politely saying good morning when she caught you standing by the kitchen entrance. She hasn’t acknowledged you since. You tried to get some laughs out of her, but she only half-smiled before silently returning to her work.

You two continued to carefully wrap and deliver dessert-filled boxes like a well fueled machine up until the last minutes before closing. You stretched before grabbing the broom to sweep the entire shop, making your way into the kitchen where Hattie was staring off into nothing.

“Hey, girl. I can close up, so,” you murmured, wiping the sweat off your brow.

She seemed to be pulled out of her trance, “Oh, sorry hun,” Her head bobbed. “Are you sure you’re good on your own?”

“Yes, ma’am,” You paused. “Umm, are you doin’ okay? You seemed… I dunno, quiet, I guess.”

Hattie nodded, and you took it as an invitation to speak. “Somethin’ you wanna talk about? You didn’t even tell me how your weekend went. How’re the kiddos?” You asked gently, propping your broom against the wall.

A heavy exhale left her.

“I… Something was…” she stuttered.

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale.

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered.

Your brows pulled down in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

“This… this weekend. Wasn’t it different?”

“Umm…” you pondered. “Not really, no. Why, what’s goin’ on?”

More silence before she huffed, “… Nothin’. You know how I get this time of year. Sorry, dear.” She turned and snatched her work bag off the counter before departing with a skittish nod, “See ya tomorrow.”

“W-Wait—“ You tried to stop her, but the kitchen door was already slamming shut, the small ding alarming Hattie’s departure from your shop.

You allowed your tense shoulders to drop, snagging the broom and heading towards the front of your shop for cleanup.

That was odd.

The front door of your apartment shut and you fell back against it in exhaustion. You desperately needed a massage.

You stretched before pushing yourself off the door and wobbling over to your cat’s area, refilling her bowl and cleaning her litter box. You clicked your tongue to lure her over to eat.

You called her name out when she didn’t come. You snagged her filled bowl and shook it, alerting your baby to come and eat. She still didn’t come. You huffed and made your way into your room; She probably took over your softest pillow again.

The bowl in your hand clattered to the floor and your screams nearly shattered your windows. Bile rose in your throat and you heaved at the scene in front of you.

Your beloved pet was dead. Completely mauled, her blood and organs pouring out of the giant slit that went from her throat to her stomach. Sobs wracked through you at the savage attack. The one source of comfort that you looked forward to seeing every morning and night was gone, snatched away from you in the blink of an eye. You've tried to alleviate your anxiety by suggesting that your nightmares are merely that. Dreams. Creations by your subconscious to try and solve issues that occur in your everyday life.

But nothing so heinous would ever cross your mind. You would never harm the precious angel who brought you healing in your times of need.

This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone came into your home while you were away. Someone killed your baby.

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” the county deputy sighed, “But there wasn’t any sign of breaking and entering. You stated that everything is where you left it, correct?”

“Everything wasn’t where I left it,” Anger rushed through you at the officer’s dismissiveness. “My cat was fucking fine before I went to work. I’d never… put her in an environment where she could be harmed,” Tears flooded your eyes.

“We understand that this was an attack done in your home. What happened here’s definitely not normal, but we won’t be able to solve everything in one night,” He consoled, “We’re getting a team here to investigate. I would suggest packing an overnight bag and staying with family or a friend until we get this situated.”

Family. You almost broke down.

When you didn’t respond, he interjected, “We can also find you a room to stay in for a few nights— “

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.”

You dug in your pocket for your phone and dialed Celeste. He nodded and spun towards his partner who jabbered into a walkie.

Your friend’s tone blared through the speakers, “Hiii, baby, what’s up! I haven’t heard from you in a minute.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, “Sorry I didn’t call. Um… can I ask a favor?”

“Of course you can. What’s the matter? Are you good?”

The floodgates that’d been building in your eyes overflowed, pouring down your cheeks and onto your work shirt. You wept.

“Can you come pick me up?”

“I just feel like… I feel like I’m going fucking crazy,” you whispered and picked at your fingers, “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but— “

“Nah, it makes perfect sense. You’re fucking psychic. That’s literally the only explanation,” your friend shook her head at you. “You dreamt about something and it happened a couple days after.”

“None of that shit is real, Celeste.” She sighed in disappointment.

“It’s not real to you,” she pointed from the other side of the couch. “My grandmomma was a witch—“You huffed and adjusted the blanket draped over your shoulders.

“But, hey,” she raised her hands in defense. “I can’t make you believe anything. But coming from the most superstitious bitch in town, somebody is trying to tell you something. You’re not freaked out?”

“Of course I’m freaked out! But I'm not wasting my time thinking about some… fuckin’ ghost— “

“What happened when we were at the club?”

Your blood went ice cold. You couldn’t stop the pure terror that spread across your face at the mention of that night. You’ve attempted to block… whatever happened out of your memory for the last couple days for your sake, but Celeste read you like a book, and you hated her for it.

“Exactly. Are you ready to talk about it now?”

“I… I told you what happened— “

“You lied about what happened. And don’t try to argue,” She leaned closer, eyes comforting. “We tried calling out to you for so long. We thought somebody fucking… laced you, or something, you were so zoned out. We were this close to calling the fucking police.”

“… What do you mean? I lost y'all in the crowd before I started dancing with somebody— “

Celeste shook her head, “No.”

Your throat went dry, the blood rushing to your head almost making you faint.

“We tried to tell you, baby. But we didn’t wanna push you to talk to us about it,” she said gently. “We were with you the entire time.”

The tightness in your chest wouldn’t subside, shuddering breaths leaving your nose with every denial from Celeste.

“No one else came up to us,” she whispered, “and no one danced with you.”

Your head kept shaking in attempts to disprove her claims, in attempts to combat the fear that was attempting to slice you from the inside out, but deep down, you knew she was onto something.

Celeste’s hold sadly didn’t bring comfort, but she held you close anyway, ensuring that you’re not by yourself, but all you could think about was your mother. The smile she used to give you whenever you succeeded never failed to recharge the dying battery in your back. It’s depressing how little impact her grin has on you in adulthood.

The dark cloud of your past cascaded over the two of you; If she were here, your best friend would’ve forced you into the passenger side of her father’s pick-up, already halfway across town by now, set to isolate. To escape.

“Whoever did this is incredibly strategic,” The tall detective stated with a journal in his hand, “They didn’t leave traces of anything: hair, fingerprints, nothing. It’s almost like they never broke in.”

You haven’t been able to get any sleep or go to work for the last week, completely isolated inside your friend’s home. When you received a phone call from the detective assigned to your case, you caught the first bus you could and flew back to your apartment complex. You don’t remember the ride.

Your hope plummeted at his declaration, even with his reassurance, “We’re doing everything we can to find this person. Your safety is our number one priority.”

He gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and it brought you comfort. While you weren’t satisfied with their reports, you could see that he was trying. Was this your first time meeting him?

He seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

He stared into your eyes with a gentle grin and continued, “If we should even call them that. They’re a cold-blooded, heartless fiend that needs to be taken out.”

Your brows furrowed at his sudden determination, but your head bobbed in agreement. Your mind was racing but you couldn’t say anything. Someone killed your baby. Did his grip on you tighten? You couldn’t move.

“The bastards that get away with such vicious crimes need to be put away forever,” his tone was harsh and sharp, and it made your fingers twitch. Your stomach plummeted when his smile stretched higher, his teeth shin

His other hand landed on your other shoulder. You tried to move back, but you couldn’t, “S-Sir— “

“They need to be hung from the ceiling by their throats and slaughtered like fucking pigs! Like the worthless animals they are! —“

His spit landed on your face at his screams. He hollered about how much he hated killers, how they were scum and deserved to be tortured. How you…

“You thought we forgot about what you did?” He whimpered; prior menacing smile vanished.

The bearded man in front of you was sobbing, his gaze pinning you against the wall. He didn’t blink and his eyes were bloodshot, his mouth turned downward, the corners of his lips nearly touching his chin. Your eyes frantically traveled over his form, his uniform replaced with pajamas and slippers.

“YOU’RE A KILLER! YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER! —“

Cursed murmurs amplified his pained shouts. Your home was melting away, the walls seeping into the floor before you dropped, the terror weakening your limbs. Your nails dug into the grass and dirt below you, panic electrifying your system.

The man was gone, but you were outside in the middle of the night, decomposing trees surrounding you. You tried to stand but you couldn’t. You were forced to take in the scene that you wished to never see again. The one scene that your subconscious couldn’t eliminate no matter how hard you tried to forget.

Your parents' car— wrecked car. The vehicle was completely destroyed, the bumper and windscreen ran into a tree. You screamed and shouted but no noise left, the sinister chants resounding in your ears. The wreckage seemed to move, closer, closer, your eyes locking onto the two bodies inside completely mangled in the accident.

The two bodies were younger you, thrown over the dashboard and your arm twisted to an alarming degree, blood running down your head and mouth, shards of glass piercing through the skin of your bare legs.

You couldn’t stop yourself from peering at the body beside you. You hollered for help, cried and begged to wake up, all while staring at your best friend — your soulmate, completely maimed from the waist up. It was just as brutal as you remember: her blood splattered all over the airbag, her limbs shattered and broken, large pieces of glass pierced into her skull. You were sick, you were sick.

Suddenly, the mantras that attempted to swallow you whole stopped.

Then there was laughter. Your soulmate’s laughter, but it wasn’t how you remembered. It was darker, hollow, empty. Enraged.

Everything around you went dark.

Sobs tear through your throat the second your eyes open, the comforting scent of Celeste’s lavender candles intruding your senses. Your body was drenched in sweat, and you could hear your friend calling out to you, her cold hands on your face, but you couldn’t think. You just screamed. Her attempts of trying to sit you up failed, your fingers hanging onto her sheets for dear life. You were paralyzed with fear.

Somehow, your biggest regret came to pay you a visit.

Your instincts finally kick in, pushing Celeste off you and bolting towards her bedroom door. She was calling for you; she even reached out to touch you, but you pushed her harder.

She screamed for you to stop, and you lost it.

“Get the fuck away from me! STOP — stop fucking touching me!” you rush out into her living room and towards her front door.

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face.

Celeste whispered your name; Why did she sound like her?

“I gotta get the fuck outta here, I can’t,” heave, “I can’t fucking do this, I can’t, I can’t — “

Distraught mumbles fled your tongue on your way out, not bothering to look back at your friend. You heard her sniffling before the door slammed shut, guilt swarming your chest, but it wasn’t enough to overcast the terror ripping you open from the inside out.

After vomiting outside of Celeste’s apartment building, — multiple times — you took your leave. As fast as you could. You couldn't say a word to her; She desperately tried to get information out of you, but your throat felt like it would crack open at the slightest whisper. The fear you’d been trying to invalidate crashed into you all at once.

You fled without your belongings, only slowing when night goers surrounded you in the city.

Celeste has been worried sick about you this entire time, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Your steps were jerky and quick, and you kept scratching at your shoulder. You felt her everywhere. All over you, but it wasn’t comforting. Not like it used to be.

You walked and walked, your mind racing with moments from your past: the last moments with your best friend. Your kryptonite. The scar in your shoulder was covered in fresh, red lines from your nails.

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You frantically shoved your books into your locker, anticipating the alarm that sounded for lunch. You can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

The second it goes off, you're booking it for the door. You hoped Ellie kept her word and brought your birthday present.

You busied yourself in your small cubby whenever security or teachers walked by, politely greeting them with the most innocent smile you could muster. They didn’t bat an eye, wishing you a happy birthday before turning the corner at the end of the hall.

You gave them all fake greetings until the loud tone blared through the hallway speakers, students instantly rushing out of their classrooms to head to the cafeteria. You grabbed your now empty backpack and merged with the crowd, trekking for the exit. You managed to scurry through the double doors of the school and bolted towards your parents’ old car, ducking behind the driver's side as you waited for your best friend.

You texted her a few times but she didn’t respond for minutes. You almost gave up and returned inside the building before two hands pinched your sides from behind. A squeal left your mouth when you whipped around. Ellie snorted at you, her arms wrapping around your neck in a tight hug. You reluctantly hugged her back.

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

You shushed her shouts with a smile, Shut up! Someone might hear you.

She kissed your cheek before releasing you, No ones fucking here, relax. Open the door, her head jerked towards the vehicle.

You stealthily unlocked it and the two of you jumped in. You shoved the key into the ignition as Ellie cranked the speakers all the way up, your car rattling with bass as you two exited the parking lot and zoomed down the main street.

Ellie belted Cherry Waves out the window, bright laughs leaving your throats as you drove to… anywhere. Times like this always bring you joy; You love being around her.

Ditching class might’ve not been the best birthday celebration, but you were having a ball.

You drove until you reached the end of town. There was a small campground that you and Ellie found on your first couple drives together, and it swiftly became your little get away spot. You’d spend hours talking, drawing, screaming at the top of your lungs until the sun disappeared and your parents demanded you come home.

You two raced to your designated spot by the lake, Ellie’s filled backpack slamming onto the sand, glass clattering from the inside. You mischievously eyed it, I think someone owes me a present!

I don’t owe you shit. I’m a good friend, say thank you, She rolled her eyes. You grabbed her hands and clumsily twirled her.

Thank you, Ellieee! you nearly ripped her bag apart as you inspected the contents.

Don’t go too crazy. Remember what happened last time? her smile was light, but you could tell she was scolding you. You snickered.

Um, yeah. We had a ball. Help me open this, you downplayed, passing her the unopened bottle.

You know exactly what she’s referring to; You might’ve drank a bit too much at your friend’s birthday dinner. And Christmas party… and when you all went to the fair, but it was all in good fun! You’re young and living life; Ellie’s always a bit dramatic when she comments on your drinking.

Ellie snatched the bottle and opened it, taking a large swig from it before handing it back. You followed in her lead, taking three large gulps of the liquid, the burn flowing down your throat and into your stomach. Ellie pulled her speaker out of her bag and queued your joint playlist.

The two of you drank and sang and danced until sunset, your vision blurry and legs wobbly. Ellie was sweet enough to help you back to the car, snagging the keys from your pocket before helping you into the passenger side. You tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t understand. She always looked so cute when you mumbled nonsense, wispy brows pulled down with a light smile. You felt so happy whenever she was around.

She drove you back home and you threw up all over your front yard. Somehow, she snuck past your parent's room without hassle, ushering you into bed. You couldn’t stop laughing; Her bright smile only made you cackle louder before her hand pressed against your mouth.

—

Ellie’s soft palms moved up and down your arm bare, occasionally squeezing your bicep. You couldn’t stop smiling, goosebumps following the drag of her fingertips.

You’re such a dork, she whispered between snickers.

You love me, you said much louder, but she hummed. The look in her eye was suddenly far away. You nervously nibbled at your bottom lip, your eyes dropping to her mouth. Did her lips always look this soft?

You admired every aspect of her face in silence, your index finger continuing to trace over the bridge of her nose, the apple of her cheeks, down to her chin. Ellie’s a sight.

Your hazy mind barely noticed the tint on her cheeks, your bedroom dimly lit by the moonlight cascading in from your window. Her eyes were glued to your mouth.

She inched closer, her moves subtle. You would’ve missed it if she wasn’t right there.

You don’t know what came over you, but your mouth pressed against hers. Her lips were stiff against yours, and it made you pull away.

She didn’t seem… happy, not how you felt. Her expression was gloomy, her eyes flashing with… everything and nothing at the same time. You locked up instantly.

You love me, Ellie… right?

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred.

Ellie didn’t answer, and you held yourself up on your elbow, your brain alarming your legs to get up and leave. To abandon.

Ellie… d-do you love me?

O-Of course I do—

The tremors in her voice sliced through you like a hot blade. Her confirmation was only meant to appease, your drunk brain told you. Ellie doesn’t love you, not like that. Your own parents’ love is conditional; Why wouldn’t hers be?

—

You were never a rebellious kid.

Your parents always praised you for being a remarkable role model for your younger siblings: incredible listener, studious, eager to help others. They never failed to highlight, amplify, pressure your good behavior. But their doting smiles disappeared when you failed to meet their expectations.

The transition from middle to high school was rough for you. Your grades suffered and you were surrounded by other kids you didn’t recognize, and your “star-student” streak vanished in an instant. You’ve never seen your family so disappointed in you.

You broke your back trying to save your academic status for the next few years. You hardly slept, ate, spent time with your newfound friends, and it was all for your parents. They didn’t acknowledge you until that offer to join the early-college program came in the mail during your sophomore year. When you accepted that you needed to have something to show to get their affection, you spiraled downward.

You swiftly replaced the emptiness in your heart with a bunch of seniors. They agreed to let you tag along if you could hang, so you did whatever was necessary to gain their companionship: started sneaking out, staying out late, going to parties that you had no business being at.

Started drinking.

Just one sip, loosen up! Little did you know that’s all it took to get you hooked.

The drink was rancid and a gross, murky color. You weren’t enjoying it, so why couldn’t you put the cup down for the rest of the night? You threw back cup after cup until you were unconscious on the front porch of the house. None of your friends bothered to take you inside where it was safe.

You barely recall being hauled back inside and upstairs, plush pillows under your head as you drifted off. When you woke, you swiftly decided that the pounding in your head and the nausea in your gut was worth it. Last night was the freest you’d ever felt. You almost missed the small sticky note stuck on your arm. Someone gave you their phone number, demanding that you tell them if you made it out alive (i hope so.)

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note.

Meeting Ellie was a blessing. She was funny, smart and kind. She was so nice to you. None of your old friends treated you like she did. Ellie’s friends were much warmer and welcoming when she introduced you to them for the first time. Every time they had plans, you were invited, no conditions needed.

Every vacant space in your heart was filled with something brighter. It’s unfortunate that your brain has already mastered its attachment to something more dangerous.

Ellie… for the billionth fucking time, I don’t have a problem. Can you just let it go? you scoffed from your bed.

I’ll let it go when you cut it out. You can’t do shit without it anymore, She spat, pointing at the McDonald’s cup filled with Tequila. You grinned nastily and sipped your straw. You were so sick of having this conversation with your friends. With her.

Yes, I can. I’m fine. See? You sarcastically rubbed all over your body. Another huge gulp. I dunno why y'all are acting like this. I’m not the only one that drinks.

You’re not fuckin’ fine, first of all! It was fun at first, but you don’t know how to control yourself! You’re scaring everybody off, Her arms flailed as her voice rose. You’re so happy your parents are working.

You weren’t “scaring everybody off”; You did have some outbursts some time ago, but your friends were still around. They always called you for a fun time, and you were always there to show out.

Oh my fucking god, you’re so extra, you got up with your cup, grabbing Ellie’s hand and leading her into the bathroom down the hall. You removed the lid and dumped its contents out; You tried to hide the surge of anxiety as you watched it go down the drain.

See? I can stop whenever I want.

Then stop, she whispered, sadness in her eyes, No more… okay?

The emotions flowed through her eyes like water, and it made you uncomfortable. You already wanted a refill, but you nodded to appease her.

O-Okay, Ellie, I’m sorry, you whispered, and she hugged you so tight. Kissed your clothed shoulder, and it gave you solace, even if it was just temporary.

But when she left, you were alone, comforted by the temptation of your own thoughts. You broke into your parents’ locked liquor cabinet that same night.

—

When you showed up to exam day drunk, Ellie began to pull away.

She didn’t bother to beg and yell when you were entranced by your vice. You simply saw her less, and your heart cracked whenever your calls went unanswered.

Abandonment was the worst feeling, even more so when it’s a result of something you’ve done. Your anxiety spiked significantly when you strolled around campus and your friends ignored you, and it only made you drink more when you got home. The acidic pacifier you discovered was turning you into someone unrecognizable. You were failing, and you were alone. You’d wished your siblings were older so you could talk to them.

Everything came crashing when your parents received an alarmed call from your principal.

You’d been vomiting in the nurse's office for half an hour, and they ended up calling the ambulance. Your stomach was getting pumped hours later.

When you regained consciousness, the only thing you could hear were your mother’s hysteric sobs in the hall.

—

Summer came along, and you were out of rehab. Withdrawal fucking sucked; It took you almost three weeks to fall asleep in the center.

You didn’t expect to see Ellie and your friends sitting on your porch when your parents pulled into the driveway, flowers and your favorite candy in hand. Your best friend cried into your shoulder for an hour straight; You refused to let her go as you sobbed into hers. You’d missed hugging her.

When everyone was seated on your parents' couch, you offered to share the secret to get melty, gooey chocolate chip cookies every time. They couldn’t stop grinning at you; You were finally back to normal.

Ellie spent the night at your house and hugged you to her chest until you drifted off.

You accepted that you were a terrible person when all you could think about was a drink. Just one.

All the promises you made were broken a few months later, crushed into dust by your own hand.

—

Everyone you loved hated you. Liquor always forced you to see the truth in people, melted away the fantasy that you created out of self-preservation. It fueled the rage that you desperately tried to keep hidden from your family; You’re so fucking mad, and you can’t remember why.

Your parents hated you; your siblings hated you, your best friend, the one person you have to confide in, the only thing you had left to love, hated you. Everyone hated you, and it was all your fault. Selfishness was the only way one could be a successor.

The second Ellie climbed into your parents’ car with that soft look in her eye, fury swallowed you whole. You barely said a word to her, her favorite song cranked to maximum volume.

Ellie? Your voice was quiet, but you were seething. You don’t remember why.

Hm?

D-Do you still care about me? your hands were clenched around the wheel so tightly, you thought it would snap in two. She was suddenly tense in the passenger seat, but she whispered without hesitation. Of course, I do… always.

But you didn’t believe her.

Ellie should’ve never agreed to go on a drive with you.

The way Ellie whipped her head towards you was vicious, her hand slamming onto the volume button of your car to silence the noise. You hated how she knew instantly.

… Are you fucking drunk right now?

There it was. All the proof you needed. Confirmation that you were nothing but a disappointment. You hadn’t moved from the stop sign. Self-loathing thrashed from the inside; your teeth are bound to crack like glass with the tightness of your jaw.

She’d whispered your name with so much disdain. A molten tear eased down your face like magma. This was the same residential area you parallel parked in for your driver’s test.

Your eyes were glued onto the dimly lit street as Ellie cried and begged for you to stop the car. She admitted to loving you and apologized for everything she said that could’ve hurt your feelings. All you had to do was stop the car and everything would be fine, she said. You pressed the gas so hard; it nearly touched the floor of the vehicle.

I love you… Please don’t do this… I love you so much…

Ellie’s last scream was haunting before everything went silent.

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night.

You were able to convince yourself that the accident didn’t happen for a few weeks. Until your best friend’s burial. According to your parents last voicemail, Ellie’s father wanted to strangle you with his bare hands. You took his life away with one decision. No one contacted you after that. Not your parents, not your siblings, not your friends.

You were charged and placed in juvenile detention until you were of legal age, and sent off to prison for another six years after that.

Your habit fed you lies about the people you loved most, and it cost the life of your only constant. The one person who tried to get you to change. The purest form of love you had.

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered.

PRESENT

You walked until you reached Hattie’s front porch. Your calves were on fire.

Your tightly clenched fist pounded on the wood with all the strength you had left. You could see the shadows of someone walking around inside, but she didn’t open the door. She probably wanted nothing to do with you after not showing up to work for weeks, but you were desperate.

“M-Ms. Hattie, please,” you hollered, “I really need t’talk to you! Please, please— “

The door barely creaked open. You expected her to scream and berate you for disrupting her so late in the night, but she was silent. Didn’t utter a word. She only peered through the small crack in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot. Her voice sounded graveled, like she hadn’t slept in days.

“What the hell are you doin’ here.”

“Ms. Hattie, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where to go,” You harshly wiped your eyes, “May I please— “

“No, you may not,” her glare sliced through you, sharper than any knife. You bawled.

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

“What…” her voice quivered, her gaze breaking away from yours for a split second.

“What did you do… to that girl?” She whispered like it pained her, and it felt like your chest would concave.

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you.

She knows. She knew.

“It was you,” tears filled the woman’s eyes, “I had a dream that you… How could you do that… That poor baby…”

Your head shook in denial. It was an accident, you wanted to scream, I don’t know what came over me! Your eyes squeezed shut and you fell to your knees, thunderous pleads leaving your throat as you begged her to listen. You hunched over and miserably tried to grab at her feet.

I loved her, I loved her, I loved her! You couldn’t speak.

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

“I hope God… the universe… whoever the hell,” She spat, “Has mercy on you.”

You couldn’t stop screaming. Your voice was muffled by the concrete floor.

“Get the fuck off my porch.” And the door slammed in your face. You heard the locks click, and just like that, your last inkling of hope shunned you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming for Ellie until you sat up, burning eyes glued to the dark, cloudy sky.

The sun rose from behind as you climbed your apartment steps.

The bundle of police cars and black trucks outside the building were an indication of your case being ongoing, but it brought you no comfort. A constant ache was present in your chest every time you breathed. Murmurs erupted from behind as you dragged your body inside, ignoring the deputies who were urging you off the premises.

Officers and residents stared at you in confusion, shock, bewilderment the second you hopped off the elevator. Exhaustion was pouring out of you, your under eyes almost black and pajamas wrinkly. You can’t recall the last time you showered.

The elevator dung, and you made your way down the hall, police tape surrounding your front door. You dodged it and crept in, the sight of the investigators almost sending you into a panic.

Terror built in your spine as they gawked at you; Ellie’s fucking with you. You’re probably asleep right now.

“Ma’am?”

You shakily turned towards the investigator assigned to your case. “Are you alright?”

No. You nodded, “I came to get some things.”

Some silence passed before you spoke.

“I need a place to stay,” your cuticles were scabbing. “As far away from here as possible… if that’s even allowed.” Your living room felt like it was tipping.

Their brows furrowed, scanning over your ragged appearance, “Um… The farthest we can place you is about a half hour away. We still need to monitor you… Especially now.” You bit the dig with a tilted head.

You nearly leaped into the air at the sudden, distant ring in your ears.

“Will y’all still cover m’stay?” The tremor in your hands built with the shrilling pierces in your drums.

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

“I’m fine! I’m fi— I’m fine!” The shrieks overwhelmed you, both hands coming up to cover your ears, your head pounding. Foreign hands were attempting to steady your hunched form, but to no avail. Your body gave out completely, pained wails leaving your dry lips.

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

You tried. You tried your hardest, but you couldn’t convince anyone — yourself that you were okay. Something’s here. When did the air in your home get so cold?

The softest call of your name frosted the blood in your veins.

You’re hallucinating; You have to be. Don’t look up. Don’t open your eyes.

The voice called again, elation enriching her tone. Your head shook in disbelief.

It can’t be.

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!”

No, no no no, you told yourself. Sobs wracked through your hunched form.

“Look at me! I love you!”

Shoe-covered feet inched towards you, slowly. Almost… cautious.

“Wake up! Wake up, wake up!” Your whispers were harsh. Urgent. Desperate.

A comforting hand rubbed your shoulder. You flinched and wailed, frantically pinching the skin of your wrists.

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

“Shhh,” Her hand squeezed you, “It’s me.”

You’re going to fucking puke. Your eyes stayed shut while she cradled you, your head resting on her shoulder. She felt taller, stronger, but she smelled the same. You couldn’t move, but she hugged you so tight.

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry—

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar.

“I love you more.”

You calmed in her presence as she rocked you on the floor. Your guilt almost made you push her away, but you’re selfish; You need this, for her to hug you.

It felt like she held you for years, right on your apartment floor. She didn’t let you go.

But when your eyes opened, eggshell white hospital walls surrounded you. Kept you trapped in the small hell that Ellie’s created.

You haven’t slept or eaten. You’ve barely showered.

Ellie was with you. Ellie’s with you. You felt her there; She held you! You’re not fucking crazy.

Three days have passed since you were carried out of your apartment by EMTs, according to the investigators that are still terrorizing your fucking home. They assumed you were having a seizure by how still you were. You were unresponsive for minutes, they’d said. Celeste was right. You didn’t have the courage to face her and apologize.

You haven’t left your motel room since you’ve arrived. You hate it in here — it looks like it’s eroding from the outside, the windows are scratched and tinted a murky yellow, the sheets feel like sandpaper, but it’s better than home. Better than being in public amidst your impending psychological breakdown.

Ellie’s here. She’s watching you and laughing at the wreck you’ve become.

You’re slipping; You can feel it. The way she hugged you… You could’ve melted into her for eternity when she said she loved you, never to be seen or heard from again, completely under her control. Not that anyone would care about your disappearance. A gutted huff left you.

Your past finally caught up to you. Tears flooded your eyes for the hundredth time tonight.

The faint shuffling coming from your bathroom didn’t even shock you. She’s here again.

Your eyes overflowed, and they shut in resignation; You’re going to die.

“E-Ellie?”

Silence.

Your eyes squeezed tighter. You have nothing left to fight for.

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!”

That’s all you’ve ever been: a quitter. More shuffling, then silence.

“FUCKING KILL ME! KI— KILL ME, ELLIE!”

You heaved and rose from the edge of your bed. You marched down the seemingly endless hallway, heart cracking in your chest.

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

Weighted knocks pounded against your room door, shocking you into silence. She’s here, she’s here; She’s fucking with you.

A dark chuckle left you.

“You’re fucking sick,” You spat with a sniffle, “I hate your fucking guts, just like you hated me! You fucking hate me, right?”

You’re awake. And you’re angry.

You tramped towards the entrance and knocked back just as hard.

“FUCK YOU, BITCH! FUCKING — FUCK YOU, ELLIE, YOU FUCKI— “

Heat traveled across your face the second you ripped the door open.

A woman… a motel employee… with sheets in her hand, visibly stunned.

You’re going fucking crazy.

“Uhh… just came to give you new, uh, sheets,” Her voice was high-pitched, clearly uncomfortable. Your eyes flickered with embarrassment, cheeks blazing.

“S-Sorry…” You allowed the shorter woman entry, and she scurried over to the small nightstand in the corner of your room.

You picked at your fingers, “Um… sorry if I scared you. It’s been a weird… fuckin’ weird couple of weeks.”

She didn’t acknowledge you at all. Just silently laid the sheets and pillowcases on the side of your bed.

“Am I,” You huffed, anxiously rubbing your eyes. “Are you gonna report me or somethin’?”

Silence.

Your brows furrowed at the sudden stillness of the woman, her back turned towards you.

“Hey, you okay?” A cautious step forward. “Look, I’m… I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m fine— “

“Fuck you.”

You flinched at her venomous tone; voice filled with spite. The fuck?

“… What?”

“After all this time…” she whispered, the ponytail in the woman’s head shaking in disbelief.

“You’re still the same… selfish, psychotic fucking bitch I remember you to be.”

Your knees buckled at the sudden low timbre of her voice. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms at its familiarity. She sounded just like… She’s… It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t be—

The one window you cracked for air earlier slammed shut, the clicks from your door signaling your confinement. You’re trapped.

Your nails sunk into your palms; She’s here. She’s real and she’s fucking here and going to kill you.

Her laugh filled the room, low and vengeful, and the one lit lamp on the nightstand flickered off.

Your breaths were shallow and desperate, sheer panic rushing through your body. You took blind, scurried steps towards the door, feeling around for the knob to take your leave, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the wood from the inside, screaming for anyone to come save you.

Something cold and slimy slinked around your ankles and roughly yanked you to the floor, your hands scrambling to grab onto anything on the hardwood as they pulled you towards her. You caught glimpses of her glowing, red eyes with every panicked look over your shoulder.

You were pulled up, up, up by your feet until you were dangling upside down, her glowing orbs piercing through yours. You barely made out her manic smile, fangs bright and as sharp as knives. Something sharp pressed against your windpipe, ready to tear your throat out.

The room she trapped you in disappeared completely, an empty, dark void surrounding her, you. There’s nothing anywhere.

You hollered as your stomach flipped; She’s going to kill you right here—

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

A sharp slice right through your shoulder. You released a pained scream before your vision grew cloudy, body growing limp as you swayed in the air. Your screams quieted, your drowsy mind filling with images of Ellie smiling affectionately at you.

Ellie… Ellie, please…

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark.

Water erupted from your mouth, your eyes ripping open, fingers tearing into the dirt beneath you.

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, more water dripping from your hair and clothes, down your bare legs. Pain shot through your shoulder with every move. You reached to touch it and… ouch. Blood coated your fingertips.

You gazed around. You knew exactly where you were, but it was off.

You and Ellie’s hideout. The campground is exactly how you remember, but it was darker, murkier, less inviting and cozy. Familiar, yet foreign.

“Miss me?”

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you.

“Aww, don’t be scared,” Ellie mocked, fake pout pulling at her lips. “C’mooon, it’s just me! Welcome to my humble abode!”

What the fuck, what the fuck—

The same appendage from earlier wrapped around your leg, yanking you back, and your heart sank. Your eyes were deceiving you; They had to be.

Ellie, much taller and stronger than you remember, stood over you, pupils pitch black, a devious smile spread across her face, sharp fangs glimmering in the dark. The two horns that swirled atop her head were dark, the protruding veins red and throbbing like they were alive. You saw the sharp edge of her tail glowing behind her head, speckles of red liquid crusting over on the tip.

Is… Did she cut you with that?

Your heart squeezed painfully with familiarity; The small spots that dusted her face and the scars that covered her legs from biking accidents were still there.

“E-Ellie?”

She posed, arms extended, “In the flesh. Kinda. There’s no… actual flesh for the dead… Well, we technically could have skin, but it wouldn’t be ours.”

“I’ve been lookin’ for you. You look good,” she muttered, eyes dark as they traveled over you. You suddenly felt exposed.

Silence passed between the two of you. How was her tone so casual?

What the fuck is going on…

She huffed at your silence, “Didn’t think our ten-year anniversary would be this fucking awkward. Can’t even say hi?”

Her words were hardly registering.

“Huh.” Her eyes flashed back, and the organ around your leg untangled, retracting into the grass beneath you.

“You’ve… you’ve been looking for me?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, carelessly playing with her razor-sharp nails. “You got outta jail, got a place… bought the bakery you always talked about. Congratulations, jailbird! You beat the system… and were able to outrun the devil for some time!”

She showcased the ashy, decaying scenery like it was a prize. “Here’s your first glimpse into the other side. Is it to your liking? Should I fluff your pending gravestone? Put some roses over it since everyone you love won’t?”

Other side? “… Am I dead?”

“Nope! Almost. You have a purpose before I take you out. Finally, am I right?” Sarcasm sharpened her tongue.

“… You're insane,” your voice was hoarse, shattered. You swore your esophagus was bloody.

“Me?!” She snickered sickly, eyes darkening, “Remind me what happened between us again? Who hurt who? Who killed who?!”

“… I— “

You paused. What the fuck do you say to her? I still love you somehow. Please don’t hate me forever. I’m a worthless fuck up—

“None of the above,” she interrupted… your thoughts? “To be frank, I don’t wanna hear shit from you,” she swayed sassily, circling you like a shark, her tail sashaying around.

“… Why’m I here then?”

She paused, the muscles in her back flexing. Your gut tumbled.

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly.

“Well… ” she trailed off, voice alluring. “It gets lonely down here. I don’t have anybody to call. Nights are so cold.”

She suddenly dropped to her knees, sensuality practically leaking out of her as she crawled towards you. Your heart was thumping, stomach in knots.

“I need you… to do exactly what I tell you…”

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

“I’m so fuckin’ hungry… Just sit there and let me take what I want,” Her mumbles were drunk and lustful. “You fucking owe me. I’m trapped here ‘cause of you.”

She straddled your lap, eyes glued to yours. They flashed red, and an appendage locked around your throat, knocking the wind from your lungs and pulling you flat onto the dirt. You tried to pull against it, but it tightened on your airways. You choked, pain searing in your shoulder, causing you to let up. Another set of slimy appendages clasped around your wrists, followed swiftly by two locking down your ankles.

The burn from your bleeding shoulder made your nipples harden under your filthy sweatshirt. She chuckled above you.

“That was quick,” Her brow arched. “Haven’t gotten any? What, no one wants to drill a felon?” She cooed with a pout.

You shot her a glare. A squeeze on your throat. A clench from your walls.

“Oh!” She exclaimed in remembrance. “Sorry about that club fiasco. I was gonna fuck you then, but seeing you enjoying yourself got on my nerves, so.”

She rambled on about how she made a whole plan to ruin your life the second she found you until you were rotting in the grave, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes moved over her lips, down her neck, over her bare chest, blood burning under your skin. Another squeeze from your cunt. Your face burned with every drop of slick that left you.

“Think I’m cute? The horns doing it for ya?” she interrupted your gawking.

You averted your gaze. She snorted before her expression went lubricious, eyes glossing over.

“You smell so good,” she slurred with fluttery lids.

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

“I meant your pussy, you fucking idiot,” her eyes rolled in annoyance. “You’re killin’ my vibe. Shut up.”

Your eyes widened in shock; Don’t think, don’t think—

“She smelled like that in the club. Just needed some lovin’, hm?” Her hand reached back to pat your pussy over your pajama shorts and you squealed. You’re leaking.

“Oh, she’s starving— “

Fear and arousal flurried in your tummy, “What’re you gonna do?”

You could almost see the wires in her head sparking to life. She leaned over you, her cold body pressed against yours, noses almost touching.

“I’m gonna rip that pussy open until I feel better…” The aura around her was smokey and blinding. “And then…” Her nose bumped against yours, almost affectionately. “I’m gonna rip that fucking throat out. Might hang your body from a tree. I needa decorate.”

A choked sob left you, thighs rubbing together as tears plummeted down your temples. Ellie shushed you gently, her forked tongue licking over the droplets before they cascaded down into the grass.

Every swipe of her tongue sent a zap through your face. The sting sent your jolt through your spine, hips bucking into her. A hot, slick line ran up your cheek, grazing your jawline, cat-like spines digging into your clammy skin.

… Is… Is she really…?

You couldn’t stop the shudder that ran up your body, your foot jerking outward at the sensation. The tentacle clenched around your ankles, and you gasped. Ellie was grinding on top of you, whimpering into your neck, marking your skin.

“E-Ellie, El— “

Another swipe, a thick, sticky trail burning its way into your hairline. Your whines are almost inaudible. Pain is burning up your legs when the organ twisted tighter; You’re shocked your ankle didn’t snap in two.

She moved faster on top of you, pleasantly sighing into your neck. Your face is fucking sizzling.

“What the… fuck,” The situation is settling in for you: Ellie’s dead… but, not? And she’s humping you like a dog. You shouldn’t want to watch her, observe the love of your life get off on your fucking stomach, but you — your pussy wants it — needs her.

You missed her so fucking much.

Soft chuckles erupted from her, icy breath on your neck. She sat up, rubbing her bare cunt on your tummy.

“You wanna watch?”

No, no no please—

Your head shook, mind racing with pleads for her to touch you, but she stared back in disapproval.

“I think you wanna watch,” She sat up, lifting her knees and resting her freezing hands on your thighs, her pretty pussy on full display, “Missed me that bad?”

She’s right there, but you can’t move. More tears, more begging from you.

“Wanna see a trick I learned?” She inquired mischievously. You didn’t have a chance to answer before more vine-like organs emerged from the dirt, eager and throbbing, globs of slick dribbling from their tips.

“When you’re sad and horny, answers will eventually fall in your lap,” She watched the appendages sliver all over her shoulders, her back, down her stomach. Her head flew back, her short flyways waving around her horns.

“I bet that fucked up head of yours never expected this would happen, huh? Never thought you’d see me like this?” She moaned out as the suctioned limb traveled over her left nipples, her eyes beaming red, scorching through your chest.

Your walls squeezed down on nothing, desperate groans leaving your throat, underwear clinging to your cunt. You couldn’t close your legs, the members slinked around coming up to suck on your thighs.

Nasty little cuck, her voice boomed through your skull, Wanna watch me get fucked, right?

Your head bobbed dumbly. The appendages scurried down her body. You watched as the veins in her horns glowed brighter, her eyes shading an even deeper scarlet, her lip catching between her teeth when the suctions came in contact with her clit.

The slippery members attacked your thighs with strong suctions, the sensitive skin littered with blotchy, dark spots. A wet slither made its way up your body, under your sweatshirt and in between your tits. The tip teased both nipples, your back arching deeper for more friction. The air was muggy and your body was disgustingly sticky; The sensations made your clit jerk.

You blearily stared up at Ellie, nearly cumming at the sight of her with a thick, throbbing appendage fucking into her pussy, another two attacking her nipples. Her walls were stretched around the dark, pulsing tentacle, her juices filling the open air with sopping squelches.

Her eyes fluttered open and refocused on you, a dark line of drool dripping from her mouth and landing on your exposed torso. You released a pained shout, your skin burning at the contact. Tension built tight in your core, clit throbbing in your underwear. You’re struggling to breathe, head floating further into the clouds with each whimper from Ellie. She giggled hazily, moans sounding between her condescending snickers. She gathered spit in her mouth and allowed it dribble onto one of your breasts.

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

Finally, finally, the tentacles choking your legs unraveled and crawled up, closer to your drenched cunt. Just one touch — you need one touch and you’ll cum. Just one, just one, please, please—

Slut needs t’cum? Beg some fuckin’ more, c’mon, Ellie’s moans and shouts in your head were somehow bringing you closer to that peak you desperately craved.

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

Your shorts and underwear were being ripped from around your waist, yanking you in all directions. The friction made your walls constrict tight. The harsh suctions on your clit were instantaneous. Finally, finally, finally—

You and Ellie’s moans melted together, colors floating behind your eyelids. The wet sounds from Ellie’s pussy made your peak build in record time, zoning in on her cries. You’re going to cum so hard. It’s almost there, just a little bit more—

Ellie’s everywhere. In your head, line of blurry vision, on top of you, about to break and shatter. She's so perfect, shrouded in darkness and gloom and desire.

The tentacle suddenly expanded inside her pussy, stretching it wider, massaging all the spots that made her see white.

“M’gonna fucking cum, s’gonna make me cum— “

You’re so close, you’re close, you’re close. You wordlessly begged her to cum with you. Her knees trembled while her legs begged to close, but she forced them open. Forced herself to take everything, all of it. The tentacle pulsed sporadically inside her, and she crashed.

Pleasure was snatched away from you in an instant, the suckles on your clit gone. You cried and sobbed for Ellie to make you cum, but she ignored you, her body wracking in pleasure, heavy globs of black slick dribbling from her cunt, right under your tits.

She rode it out, bouncing on the large appendage before it shrunk to its original size. It jerked inside her a few more times before leaving her completely, more dark, gooey liquid dripping from her pussy.

She came down slowly, giddy laughs leaving her swollen lips as her walls rippled from the aftershocks.

“This is gonna be…” she scooped up some of the substance with her razor-like nails before shoving them into your mouth.

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued.

“So much fun.”

You never thought you’d have the chance to kiss Ellie again.

But you are, and you’re so fucking nervous.

When you kissed her for the first time, you were confident, impulsive, reckless. Your regret didn’t come until after, but now here you two were, her split tongue messily sliding over yours, your tongue sizzling from the venom coating her mouth. Ellie’s mess seeped into your skin with each jerk of her hips. You’d give anything to touch her.

Your eyes squeezed shut every time she suckled on your lips, licked up your chin, squeezed her hand over your throat. She’s much more secure this time around; It’s almost enough to get you there.

Almost.

You were suddenly yanked back by your hair, head thudding the ground. Ellie seemed deep in thought, eyes distant.

“You’re a bad kisser.”

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned.

“Yes, dear?”

Her tone made you flinch. Everything you wanted to say left your brain in a cloud of smoke.

“Am… Am I…?”

“Are youuu…?” She trailed off. Her hand disappeared, lower, before a loud, sticky noise blaring in your head. She sighed happily; Ellie’s touching herself. Right in front of your face.

Your face is on fire and your shoulders are cramping up.

“Will… Can I, can I cum?”

“I don’t know… can you?” She shrugged with a smile.

Your eyes nearly rolled in annoyance; they would’ve if you weren’t so desperate to be fucked senseless.

She sat up fully, her wet hand reaching right in between your legs. They nearly clamped shut on her wrist, but more tentacles appeared to hold them open for her. She wasn’t looking at your pussy, but she knew exactly where to touch you. She rubbed her own juices into your clit, a nasty shhlck filling the calm air.

Tears built in your eyes at the sensitivity, your toes digging into the dirt beneath you. Her thoughtless mumbles were barely registering in your melting brain. Your impending orgasm nearly crashed into you before she stopped.

Your body tensed and your pleasure dissipated. Sobs left your mouth as you garbled, “E—llie, please, please, no more— “

“Don’t close your legs, I mean it. Take what I give you like a good bitch,” Ellie shimmied down your body, resting in between your legs. The tentacles hooked under your knees and forced them up, holding them right against your chest. You can’t see what Ellie’s doing and she’s silent.

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

A loud crack rang through the heavily wooded area, pain searing through your thigh. The stinging sensation brought tears to your eyes, sobbing softly to yourself.

The sudden flicking against your clit brought tears to your eyes. She’s touching you, finally. Your arms pulled at the veiny tentacles still clamped around your wrist, aches running down to your shoulders at the stiffness.

Ellie’s fingers were replaced with something much softer, and your body turned to mush. The appendages around your thighs twisted tighter, gripped harder, as the barbs from her tongue caught on your clit. It felt so fucking good; her split muscle moved so quick on your clit; your yelps of her name sound into the crisp air. You’ve been on the verge of cumming this entire time, but you can’t.

Suddenly, her tongue is easing downward, brushing against your perineum. Your hips tried to push down into her muscle, but to no avail. You could feel numbness building in your feet from the restriction.

Look at this tight little ass, two of her fingers were massaging your other hole, causing you to whimper.

Yeah? she pressed down harder, Like it right there?

Your head gravely bobbed in approval; you’ve never been touched there, but you crave it now.

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

Her voice is thick and haughty; you’re shivering.

A glob of spit lands on your ass, the sensitive skin tingling, numbness spreading across the pulsing area. She rubbed it in quickly and gave your hole one last slap.

Her tongue was back at your cunt; you squealed at the sensation of her tongue slivering past your entrance, walls stretching over her muscle. The soft splinters massaged your walls just right, caressing all the spots inside you and you felt it building —

Suddenly, her tongue stretched wider, expanded, pressed down on your walls, right on your spot; you were squirting on her tongue seconds later. You couldn’t warn her of your orgasm before you bursted, walls desperately milking her as satisfied shouts escaped your lips, your brain turning to goo.

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

Sniveled thank yous were pouring from your lips as Ellie fucked into you, your juices coating her face. Bursts of color exploded behind your eyelids.

You thought you would never come down, but the intensity of your orgasm slowed, eyes slowly blinking open. Your vision was spotty; Ellie slowly pulled out, humming at the squeals that left you. You couldn’t move.

Suddenly all the tentacles were gone, limbs free and weightlessly plopping onto the ground. Your eyelids fell shut in exhaustion, your heart flooding with longing.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” A light kick on your shoulder.

Ellie…

“Get the fuck up. I’m not done,” she snorted coldly.

Ellie… please…

“What the fuck did I say,” The agitation in her tone rose.

I’m so sorry…

“I don’t care,” You were suddenly pushed onto your back, Ellie standing over you, eyes glowing dimly.

I miss you so much…

Memories of your past flowed through you, soft sobs shaking your weak form. Ellie deserved… everything good out of life. The purest forms of happiness were destined in her path, and you took it away. You took everything from her, and all you could do was watch what she’s become. What you caused.

The more you cried, the more disgusted she seemed, eyes growing darker.

She pounced on you in seconds, nails grasping your bunched sweatshirt and sharp tail tip prepped to end you right then and there, speckles of spit splattering on your face due to her shouts.

“DON'T!” The dying world around you shook with the bass of her tone. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

You didn’t fight. You allowed her to berate you, call you every vile name in the book, and digested her wishes of you dying instead of her. Every scream slammed into your chest; you merely laid there, ready to die with love in your chest.

I love you… I love you… I love you…

“FUCK YOU, YOU LYING BITCH! FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING DID THIS TO ME! I’M GONNA KILL YOU— “

Bloody streams fall from Ellie’s eyes, the veins in her head changing from maroon to coal, the veins in her arms darkening as her voice deepened, razorous teeth baring. She sobbed and screamed from above you, wailing how much she hated you. You’re numb.

The venom from her tail was discharging from the tip. It’s time; it’s your last day alive. You nodded to yourself. You deserve this; You’re ready. You hope your siblings aren’t too saddened by your disappearance.

Is this the final stage of grief? Your body is lax and accepting, heavy droplets leaving your eyes when they shut.

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you…

Another sharp prick went through your shoulder, and darkness enclosed around you.

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

Ellie swears her heart is going to grow legs and crawl up her throat in the next thirty seconds if you keep staring at her like that. She's projecting; She’s the dork!

The few shots she took at the lake were wearing off, and her nerves were finally catching up to her. She was surrounded by your pillows, your stuffies, your scent; she could barely swallow, her throat was so dry.

You love me.

She does. Ellie never acted on her swiftly developed crush; she’s not built for rejection, especially from you. The smile on your face was so bright; your joy was so apparent whenever she was around. She hoped her own happiness reflected the same way; Please love me back! Please please please—

Her heart exploded, sewed itself back together, only to explode again when your hand came up, fingertips barely grazing her cheek. She’s going to faint; your touch was so soft. Was she crazy to compare the feel of your hands to rose petals? She tried to keep her nuzzles subtle, pushing her face closer to your hand; Is this how cats feel when they want cuddles?

You proceeded to explore her face in silent adoration, and she did the same, memorizing every detail she could. The moles on your face were lined like stars.

She scooted closer to give you more access to her now burning skin, and you kissed her. Ellie was stunned, body stiff; she didn’t have a chance to kiss you back before you pulled away. The scent of alcohol was pouring from you, and Ellie snapped back to reality.

You’re drunk. You kissed her and you’re drunk.

You’re probably not going to remember the entire night when you wake the next morning. Ellie’s eyes nervously searched your now downcast face. Say something, you coward!

But you spoke first.

You love me, right?

More than anything, Ellie wanted to scream, not caring if your parents woke up and kicked her out. But she couldn’t. Her brain was moving a million miles a minute, trying to find the words that would satisfy her feelings, but they were too strong. She’s in too deep; Words aren’t enough.

But you look broken and your body’s tense. She’s putting you on edge and she hates herself for it.

Do you love me? Your begging tone snapped her out of her head.

Of course I do, she gasped, mouth gaping like a fish.

More than anything! More than anything! I love you!

You only nodded, relaxed back into her, and shut your eyes.

Ellie went to sleep with a terrible feeling in her stomach, but she held you anyway.

Ellie’s weight crushed you as she sobbed into your neck, her cries loud and guttural, the sharp puncture of her horn pressing into the plush of your cheek. Her curses grew weak and quiet, mumbles of I fucking hate you cementing into your skin.

You simply laid beneath her, unmoving and stunned wordless at the memory — the truth that Ellie exposed to you. Her body jerked on yours as she wailed.

You hardly noticed the fresh tears rolling down your face. You sniffed, “Ellie…”

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively.

“Ellie… Look at me…” You couldn’t move.

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed.

A sad smile grew on your face.

“Almost did…”

Ellie sniffed harshly against the burnt skin on your neck, almost touching your bloody shoulder, “What.” She mumbled flatly.

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.”

Some silence passed before a wet snort came from below you. Your grin widened.

Ellie’s shoulders shook slightly as she snickered into your neck, arching hers slightly to look at you.

“I should kill you for that, you cunt. You’re not funny.”

Your body jerked with laughter, and you grimaced at the pain in your shoulder. “That's what you get.” Ellie sat up straight, smile slowly dissipating, eyes glossing over.

The light moment between you shifted, and sorrow weighed you down like bricks.

“I fucking loved you,” Ellie whispered harshly. “I wanted you to be happy. And you didn’t fucking care.” Anger was radiating off her, but the dread in her eyes was more telling. “You were… everything to me.”

The wounds in your heart were overflowing; your efforts of repairing your heart were proved pointless, blood and love and suffering filling your chest to the brim. Quiet sobs were shared between the two of you.

“Please k-kiss me,” Ellie’s eyes squeezed shut at your hushed proposal.

“Just one more. You can do whatever you want… just one last time.”

You sat up slowly, ignoring the deep aches in your side, your trembling hands cautiously raising to cup Ellie’s frosty cheeks.

Her face is so close; her lips are right there… just one more, just one—

Ellie’s eyes traveled across your face, lust and years of longing flooding in her tears. Her eyes shut and she leaned forward, her cold lips melding against yours. The kiss was gentle, your eyes squeezing shut as you cried, your tears transferring onto her cheeks.

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head.

I wish I hated you.

You choked a sob, arms wrapping around her hips to pull her closer, her arms enclosing around your neck, the kiss growing hotter. You needed her closer; so much closer.

Her tongue slid past your mouth, the split muscle messily flicking over yours as her hips bucked down. You heard loud tears of cloth coming from behind you as Ellie shredded your sweatshirt with her claws, discarding the fabric on the dark heaps of grass.

She sighed into your mouth when you laid her back onto the grass soaking, crawling on top of her. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to reconnect your mouths, her fangs cutting into your bottom lip. She sucked the injured skin, humming at the metallic taste; your hips bucked down harder to meet hers, and she whimpered.

Her hands were freezing as they slid down your bare sides, claws pressing into your hips. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat as you kissed down her neck, soft noises of satisfaction erupting from beneath you. You suckled on her throat, tongue sliding down to her jaw and back up again.

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

You moaned in approval, thighs shaking at the sound of her voice, coming back up to press your mouth against hers.

A heavy gasp left you at the feel of slime dripping onto your thigh. Ellie dug her nails into your hips to steady you, and you whined at the sting. You stared down, entranced at her gleaming eyes, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Hold still.” Ellie’s whisper was strangely comforting, your body relaxing into hers. The light suck on your thigh made you squeak, chuckles releasing from the girl beneath you.

“And you’ve been doing this for how long?” you jokingly snarked, voice shaky.

“Meh, six years, nothing crazy,” she replied, shrugging sarcastically. “Just don’t move.”

Ellie’s hand moved lower, pressing at the end of your spine to deepen the arch in your back. She shushed your eager whimpers, slowly easing your hips back until your cunt brushed against the serpent-like organ. You shuddered and attempted to jerk away at the strange sensation, but Ellie held you still, snorting to herself.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips at the feel of its tip swirling at your clit, your head dropping onto Ellie’s shoulder. It took mere seconds for the suction to attack your sensitive clit, pleasured moans huffing from your mouth. Ellie’s mouth was right by your ear, her chilled breaths sending shockwaves down your spine. Your clit throbbed under the pressure: how were you already on the verge of cumming?

“Feels g-good? Yeah?”

Your walls were squeezing down harshly, desperate to hug and milk something hot through your orgasm. It takes all your strength to lift your head and kiss Ellie, but she does all the work; licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, bruising your lips with every slice of her fang. Every pass of her tongue is a pull in your gut, your clit pulsating with vigor.

She pulled back, just barely, to whisper how excited she is to fuck you, to turn your pussy out, to make you cry. Your moans were loud and eager, your head bobbing dumbly in compliance with anything she wanted. You’d give her everything you could in this moment.

Ellie’s in your head, in your senses, in between your thighs, and you’re losing it. She’s reaching at you, tugging at your body in any way she could: scratching at your tits, pulling your hair, clawing into your skin with intent to scar. You’re sure your back is bloody. Her touch is painful; why does it feel so good?

Your thoughtless head drops yet again as your orgasm is forced out of you, your walls choking the hot air surrounding the two of you. Your wails are muffled along with Ellie’s spat praises, your hips bucking back for more. The pleasure is almost too much and you’ve barely started; She hasn’t even fucked you yet.

Your juices are pooling out of you, knowingly making a puddle on Ellie’s tummy, her affirmed moans pulling more and more out of you. Your peak is unrelenting, draining every last bit of energy your body has left. Your limbs gave out, your weight crashing on top of Ellie’s.

She hastily maneuvered you onto your back, the spines of grass puncturing your skin from beneath you as she climbed on top.

“Your stamina’s fucked.”

Her winded snide remarks didn’t bother you; you need her to fuck you. You’re sweaty and desperate to feel her everywhere. She wasted no time, reuniting your mouths in an eager kiss as her hands ventured anywhere they could. Your body’s aching, but for some reason, you crave more. More hurt, more pain; You need her to use you.

The world around you moved like water; unlike your first dream, the waves brought comfort. Ellie’s touch felt like the ocean washing you away, all with effort to finally bring you peace.

But it didn’t work. You love her; You deserve pain, and you love her.

Her mouth is on your tits, biting and sucking at your nipples. It feels so good to have her this close; your body’s wet and ready for her to ravish you.

Ellie scurried down your body, sat on her knees in between your legs, her hands pressed under yours to hold them up. Your thighs are resting on your chest as Ellie dribbles a line of slobber over your soaking lips. Hums fill the space between you as it slides down, right over your entrance.

Seconds pass as Ellie stares at your cunt; You call out to her by mistake.

“What.”

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.”

You shake your head, and she smiles. Raunchy imagery of her fucking your pussy flash across your mind in an instant, and her grin widens.

You jolt at the sudden slap on your cunt before Ellie presses your legs even higher, knees almost next to your head. You ignore the aching stretch in your limbs and reach to grab your ass cheeks, holding them open for her. Heat spreads across your face when she moans at the sight.

Oh fuck, Ellie’s whimpering to herself; whining about how good your pussy’s going to feel, how you’re going to swallow her whole, choke her out. Juices are oozing from your cunt with each jerk of your walls.

A tentacle emerges from the ground, and Ellie’s expression darkens. It’s lecherous; the way she eyes your pussy as the organ slivers closer to your entrance. You couldn’t hold your moans in anticipation of the stretch. It’s right there, swelling and twitching.

Your head falls back against the sopping grass when your hole grasps the wide, leaking tip, eyes rolling into your head as Ellie’s moans ring deep in your skull. The tentacle is practically melting between your walls as they spasm.

Ellie’s so loud above you, completely hunched over your form as her body shudders, her lip trapped between her sharp teeth. They must’ve pierced the skin, a thin trail of black liquid dripping all the way down her neck.

You take it so fuckin’ good, Ellie’s slurring, tongue swelled in her mouth. You’re already peaking, your legs attempting to slam shut at the tight hug of your walls. The organ is suddenly swelling, walls stretching around the girth to trap it as deep as it can go. Tears are running down your face, groans of Ellie’s name melding with your harsh breaths.

Seconds pass, and the tentacle’s shooting inside, and your head goes blank, your orgasm slamming into you. You're silent as it wrings your body. The intensity is almost painful, like it’s being forced from your body and your cunt’s drained dry: it’s hot inside you where the fluid pools, and your walls are sucking it deeper.

You didn’t register Ellie falling forward, her body convulsing on yours, screams of how good your cunt is leaving her in a flurry. Her words are gritted and deep and her nails are in your bicep, but the pain only makes you cum harder.

It’s been minutes, and you’re deadweight, walls twitching around the still jerking organ planted deep inside your guts. No time to recover, though; Ellie’s pulling out, a nasty sound echoing at her departure as cum seeps — drenches the grass under you. It’s never-ending and sticky and you need more.

Ellie’s already up and moving you onto your stomach, your cheek pressed against the dirt. She’s hasty, spitting on your cunt with a fiery just a dumb slut, huh? You nod, squeezing your walls to push more cum out. There are heavy suctions on your back, forcing blood to the surface at the curve of your spine. Followed by a sharp stabbing on your ass cheek.

Ellie’s mouth is on your supple skin, and the blood in your ass rushes to the surface. Her fangs are locked into you as she empties the veins in your ass.

You couldn’t even scream, eyes squeezing shut at the searing pain as your walls release more cum. Ellie hums: another bite. More blood’s leaving you, being sucked from your ass, your thighs, the end of your spine, but it’s not enough. You need more. Ellie’s draining you but it’s not nearly enough.

Another tentacle presses in once more, and your vision’s blurring; there’s another tentacle sucking at your ass, your eyes crossing at the stimulation of both your holes. Ellie’s nails are breaking the skin of your back, dribbles of blood sliding down your sides and into the dirt. You love her and you love it; everything feels so warm and full and good.

Ellie’s chides are making you wetter; your thighs won’t stop shaking, she sounds so sexy. Every shockwave in your brain is memorizing every word, every syllable. She's babbling about how she might spare, keep you trapped here forever so she can drain your blood through your pussy, suck you dry, and it gets you there again.

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

You don’t know what you’re saying; voice muffled against the dirt, tears and snot running down your face while you squeal like a pig. Ellie’s calling you one as you squirt on her, just a dumb, worthless pocketpussy; The smile on your face is stupid as your walls drain her while she throbs inside you. You’re so stuffed with her cum already, but you need more inside you. You feel so fucking good and the pleasure won’t seize.

It picks up again as the thrusts get faster, hitting you deeper, just where you need it. You don’t get to recover before you’re slung into another mind-numbing orgasm, your body wracking without rest. Ellie’s massaging every spot that makes your spine break, dirt collecting under your nails as they puncture the ground. Your groans are cracking in your throat; You can’t even swallow.

The tentacle’s swelling again, and Ellie’s hand is on the back of your head, pressing your cheek against the grass, nails scratching at your scalp as you beg for her cum. Her moans are picking up again, demanding that you beg some more, that you fucking cry for it, be a good girl a bleed for me. And you do.

As messily as you can; slobber pooling at your mouth as you sob and choke for her cum, eyes crossed in your skull as your tongue lolls, and Ellie’s shooting in you again, stuffing you to the brim as she cries your name from behind, grunts leaving her with each rope of cum seeps in your womb.

Your pussy’s melting around her when the sucking at your ass pauses, only to push in the incredibly tight space, to stretch your virgin hole open around its girth. It should hurt, having both holes filled to such a wild degree, but it doesn’t. Your weak arm is reaching behind, desperately grabbing at Ellie. You expect her to smack you away, to hit you, to slice your hand clean off your wrist, but she doesn’t; You almost miss the light touch, her pinky lacing with yours.

You’re joyous, head dropping as you sob from pleasure and happiness, heart filled with a love that you never thought you’d feel again.

She’s drilling your ass, fucking you so hard and good as she holds your smallest finger with hers, kissing down your bloody back, licking up the scarlet that leaks from your skin. Suddenly, another tentacle — much smaller than the ones tearing your holes up — emerges from the ground, right in front of your face, its juices leaking onto your cheeks.

It wiggles in front of your open mouth before shoving in; the taste is salty and metallic, but your lips work it, sucking and licking all around the length. You feel so filthy and it’s making your tummy tug, another orgasm building in your pussy and ass. It’s going to shatter you completely from its strength, you can feel it.

Your body’s aching for more cum; you’re surprised it’s not coming spilling from your throat and onto the appendage in your mouth. But Ellie’s close, every whisper becoming more frantic as she rides that edge.

You’re mine, she whispers in your ear, Fucking mine, you understand? You’re not going anywhere.

You get it, you get it! You’re never leaving her again. Fuck everything you’ve built for yourself! Your life is pointless without Ellie next to you. You’re going to cum so hard for her.

Your body’s hers; Your heart is hers; your soul is hers. You love her, you love her!

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy?

She knows she does: whispers so gross and conniving and you’re twitching under her. You’re babbling around the swelling appendage, telling her — screaming that you belong to her, you always have. You always will!

You feel her teeth as she grins madly in satisfaction, sloppily mumbling mine mine s’ my pussy against your skin as she swells inside you. You’re stretching, gaping around her and you snap, head planting into the dirt. Both sets of walls clamp down sporadically around the large digits between them, the tentacle slipping from your mouth as you scream.

Ellie’s exploding inside both holes, the tentacle above you spraying all over your face, heavy globs of cum landing in your hair, the back of your neck, splattering on your mouth, anywhere it could reach. Juices are spraying from between you, and Ellie falls forward, her freezing chest on your back as she jerks on top of you. Hearing her just as destroyed from the pleasure sends another surge of euphoria through you, somehow stronger than the first.

You can barely take it, but Ellie makes you, continues flooding your holes until they’re overflowing and sticky. You’re both sent to another plane as you convulse together, her pinky still locked with yours as you lose consciousness.

When you wake, there’s warmth.

You’re still filled to the brim with cum, but your form is blanketed. Small, tired huffs hit your back as Ellie shivers on top of you, barely audible noises alerting her satisfaction. You smile.

You can't move; all your strength is used to wiggle the cramped muscle of your interlocked finger. Tears well in your eyes when Ellie’s finger hugs yours tighter with every small movement.

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm.

Suddenly, everything around you is pink, the formerly empty spaces in your heart filled with affection. You missed Ellie so much; You’re finally reunited, and in love. You can’t stop smiling, and neither can she.

—

‘BREAKING NEWS: BAKERY OWNER FOUND DECAPITATED IN MOTEL BED’

Today marks one of the most heart-wrenching, horrifying days that our community has ever seen, the local reporter stated. We have never witnessed a case end this disastrous.

To the loved ones of this individual, we share our deepest condolences. The victim made such a large impact on our tiny town with her small business. Nobody… the reporter sighed, Nobody could’ve seen this coming.

Please be on the lookout for any updates regarding the suspect. Investigators are putting as much effort into this case as they can. Police suggest staying indoors with your loved ones this holiday until further instructions.

May God be with her family. Have a blessed night.

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

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#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us 2 #kinktober #lesbian #demon!ellie #works 𖧧࣪

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sadesluvr · 3 months

Text

The Bride — PART ONE.

A routine assassination for turns into a domestic drama when the Twins meet you, a housewife looking to seek revenge on her cheating husband.

A/N: It's been a while, but here's a new Tangerine fic! It's planned to be 3 parts, and is a slow burn. The title is a reference to Uma Thurman's character in Kill Bill, and the fic has the same vibes. Read the tags, and I hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 1.9K

Tags: Dysfunctional + abusive relationships (non-physical) / ONE instance of abuse / Eventual romance / Canon-typical violence + language / Reader and The Twins are sociopaths / Dark humour / Murder + revenge / Allusions to mental illness / Jealousy / Eventual smut / Women's wrongs / Friendship

The mission had been poised as one of The Twins’ easiest. There were no guns, no swords, no car chases - just a bit of deception and a drink laced with arsenic handed to some socialite in a golden chalice. Lemon, posing as a bartender, had made the drink, and Tangerine was tasked with delivering it as part of room service. An easy death paired with a quick getaway meant even easier money, which, in their specific case, was to the tune of $10K split between them.

The Hotel Saratoga was one of the most gorgeous in Havana. It was small, but glamorous, boasting an airy lobby with high cieilings; accented with rich whites, brown furniture and blues and greens, and sky-high views of the surrounding city. As assassins, they’d travelled extensively across the globe, and even though the job sometimes felt oddly glamorous, it was always a haven to be in a place with fresh linens and a working shower. Interacting with some of the biggest scum of the earth, it was far too often they weren’t afforded such a luxury.

“Mate, I’m gonna need you to be quick with that, yeah?” Lemon whispered, a strained look in his eye as he handed the drink to his brother. “People keep asking me for weird stuff, like an ‘Old Fashioned’ or a ‘Cosmopolitan’…I’ve just be lying ‘n saying that we’re out, but I’m gettin’ through this bottle real quick.” He finished, shaking a half-empty bottle of champagne in the man’s face.

Tangerine deadpanned, rubbing his chin before looking around cautiously.

“I’ll deal with it, alright? Just clock off or somethin’ - pass it to the geezer over there.” He said, nodding at an elderly, somewhat ditzy looking gentleman and placing the glass onto a tray. Given Lemon’s affinity for children’s shows and aversion to alcohol, he probably should’ve taken the bartending role, but selfishly wanted to roam the halls of a hotel such as this. They reminded him of all the classic novels he’d read.

“I can’t,” Lemon said sincerely, and the man furrowed his brows in disbelief. There’s an old woman here…I think she’s taken a fancy for me. Can’t disappoint her, she promised me a tip…”

There was a silence as the two men stared at each-other, with Lemon’s face wholly genuine and Tangerine’s in utter shock, as if the man were a complete loon.

“Yeah, well, call me when you’re done, innit?” He said cooly, fixing himself before picking up the tray. “And don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do.” He chided.

“That’s not exactly saying a lot…”

“Don’t piss me off, Lemon,” he sighed, giving his brother a once over. “I’d rather not act like a madman in a place like this.”

“We’re assassins, mate. It’s a bit too late for that.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, tutting as he left the bar in the direction of the stairs, skilfully navigating himself through the long, seemingly endless corridors, trying desperately not to trip on the patterned antique carpets that lined the floors.

The ever-changing lights of the building illuminated his face as he strode in search of room 237; bright white, to soft orange to wine red, streaking in the background as if he were going through a tunnel. Considering the nature of his work, it was likely a tunnel to hell.

The room was second to the end on the top floor. Placing the tray on a small hallway table, he knocked twice, calling out to the individual inside the building. The briefing hadn’t told them much, only that the target was a female, aged 28 but could pass between 26 and 30. Sure enough, someone who fit the description answered.

Tangerine gave you a once over. You seemed to be a perfect fit; dressed in an elegant white sundress, with shiny jewellery dangling off your ears, wrist and neck. Barefooted, he watched as your feet wriggled, perhaps uncomfortable with the fact that a strange man was at your door bearing a single drink.

Objectively, you were attractive. But that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t responsible for caring about you alive, and certainly not when you were dead. He was simply here to do his job, collect his money, and leave.

“I didn’t order room service…” you spoke, your voice soft as you cocked your head.

“It was on the house,” he quickly replied. “Some geezer at the bar was handin’ them out. Thought you were a right looker or somethin’…”

“How did he know where I was staying?”

“Slid the receptionist some pesos.”

You didn’t respond, merely humming as he watched you try to figure him out, eventually stepping to the side to let him in. He followed you in with a small nod, giving the room a quick once over as he did.

Bed, adjoining bathroom, a small kitchen and a balcony...no signs of any intruders. As he looked more carefully, he took note of the items on the various surfaces; half opened make up - the usual - alongside some questionable items, like pair of rubber kitchen gloves and a wad of cash, sticking out from an envelope.

The whole ordeal was somewhat unnerving, even to a man like Tangerine, simply because you didn’t speak; instead watched him like a hawk from the corner of the room, wringing your hands together as your eyes roamed his body. Unlike what he was used to, it certainly wasn’t lustful; no, yours were impenetrable, wide and somewhat glossy, almost as if you knew you were about to die.

Cutting the tension, he cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Enjoy your evening, darlin’.” He said before turning to leave, stopping in his tracks as you called out to him.

“Wait --” you said, rushing over to pick up the glass and downing it in the sink before handing it back to him pointedly. “Take this with you!”

The man winced at the sound of liquid seeping down the drain – 250mg of arsenic nonetheless – but kept his composure, shaking his head at you in disbelief.

“Fucking ungrateful twat, you are,” he snarled. “Some geezer spends money on you, and this is how you repay him? It’s a shocker ‘yer married.” He finished, gesturing his head towards your left ring finger where a diamond wedding band sat. As if the curtain had been lifted, you rolled your eyes and shovelled the glass into his arms, excess liquid spilling onto his suit.

“I could have you fired and on the streets in no time,” you spat. “Luckily for you, I know you don’t actually work here.”

Tangerine scoffed, pacing in a small circle before he placed his hands on his hips, ready to sweep out his gun from the holster attached to his waist. Somehow, you knew something was up, and it was clear that as the poisoning plan had been compromised, he was left with two options – a gunshot to the head, or strangulation.

“If you think I’d fucking waste my time goin’ around and serving drinks to brats like you for fun, you must be daft --”

“I’ll have you know I stay here three times a year,” you interjected. “I’ve been sleeping with the conciergerie for two years...I would’ve recognised such a face...” you said, fearless as you walked up to him, arms folded across your chest with a snarl wiped across your coloured lips.

“Who you spread your legs for is not my business, sweetheart,” Tangerine said, voice gravelly as he rolled his eyes, whipping his gun out in the process, the barrel aimed right between your eyes. “Why did ‘yer have to make things so hard?”

“...I guess my husband didn’t know that then, huh?” you chuckled. “Sorry to ruin your little plan. How much did he offer you?”

Tangerine paused, gnawing down on the insides of his mouth as he pursed his lips. This just happened to be the type of situation every assassin feared; which was why the general code was to always get in and out as soon as possible. He wasn’t always the best at thinking straight when it came to the thrill of a kill, which was why he ended up lowering the gun, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process.

It wasn’t all over - he still had the upper hand and could shoot you if he wanted – but that could compromise the mission entirely. The client – your husband, apparently – had requested that it was to be as clean as possible, with your death to look like a bad case of food poisoning rather than a home invasion.

The man paced again.

“Alright,” he sniffed. “Humour me, then. How’d you know I was here to off ya?”

You sucked in your cheeks and shrugged.

“Let’s just say this isn’t my first time,” you began, walking over the kitchen table as you lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “He’s a conniving son of a bitch, you know? I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since I said, ‘I do’.”

Tangerine shook his head in disbelief. “I ain’t got the foggiest idea what you’re on about love, and if you don’t start talking soon, you’re really gonna piss me off.”

You huffed, and he watched you drop your cig into an ashtray, putting on the rubber gloves and slamming a wad of cash in-front of him.

“How much did he offer?”

“Ten grand,” he replied, hesitantly walking over to you. “Split between me and my brother.”

“Fucking bastard, am I only worth 5K?” you scoffed, bringing the stick back to your lips and puffing it frustratedly, your narcissism earning an eye roll from the man himself. “Where’s your brother?”

“Don’t worry,” Tangerine said protectively. He wasn’t about to bring Lemon into a situation that he wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t compromised. Something about you was twisted, devilish, and certainly endearing hiding under a layer of pretty summer dresses, jewellery and a soft voice that could change at an instant. “What’re you saying?”

“I can double his offer. Ten grand each if you kill him for me...but I need to have a say in what goes.”

He glanced down at the stack of money before him. Ten grand was a far more enticing offer, but he knew better than to make a deal with the devil – in this case someone he’d just met. How could he be so sure you’d deliver your promise, only to turn him in at the last minute? Even worse, what if you were some kind of spy trying to see how far men like him would go?

The risks seemed to outweigh the benefits, but he wouldn't completely write you off without talking to Lemon first – for as annoying as his Thomas talk could be, he was undeniably one of the best at reading people.

Rasping his knuckles on the table, he squared his shoulders.

“— Alright. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but clearly there’s some trouble in paradise, and I ain’t sure if I want a part of it, quite frankly. I’m gonna make a call, and when my brother gets here you’re gonna tell us everything you know, got it?”

You nodded.

“On mute, are we?” he spat. “This ain’t a bloody game. If we think – or find – that you’re lying, we won’t hesitate to whack you and ‘yer measly little husband, okay?”

“I understand.” You nodded; eyes wide as you dabbed at the cigarette with your fingertips. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before Tangerine walked away, placing his gun back in the holster before taking out his phone.

“Right, Lemon...There’s been a bit of a change of plan. I’m gonna need you to come up here, like right the fuck now. There’s a new offer on the table.”

PART TWO

Comment if you’d like to be tagged in future parts! 🫶🏽

#florence writes!!#tangerine x reader #bullet train x reader #bullet train 2022 #tangerine bullet train x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #bullet train smut #tangerine x reader smut #tangerine bullet train #atj x reader #atj smut

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lipglossanon · 1 year

Text

December Winds

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

Priest!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

dedicated to you 💀 anon! 💜 I hope you like it!

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, religious connotations, Leon POV, dirty talk, nipple teasing, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (m receiving 🫣), unprotected sex, creampie, kissing, biting, slight blood

kinda beta read by my friend Rex 💜 (only like 80% so any mistakes are my own 😅 )

title from December Winds by Nox Arcana

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

After Spain, Leon quits. As he tells the president, “I’ve seen enough.” And he meant it. He packs up everything, quietly bids goodbye to the few coworkers he respects and leaves out from Washington DC, praying he’ll never see the place again.

He searches for a job that’s a little less stressful and a lot more reclusive. He stumbles across an online ad looking for a live-in priest for a small rundown chapel buried in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. A quick search on google maps yields the exact results he’s hoping for—there’s nothing around for miles and miles.

It’s a cinch to get ordained online and even easier to order the cassock and Roman collar. He already has plenty of black shirts, pants, and even shoes, meaning it’s no sweat at all for him to look the part by the end of the week.

When he arrives at the small church, there’s a handful of elderly people gathered to give him a short walk through the place. They leave him with plenty of homemade food as well as their phone numbers for the cracked rotary phone in the office in case he needs any help.

The months roll by and slowly bleeds into a couple of years. He always sees the same handful of people at service, sometimes joined by visiting family members, but always a small congregation which is what he prefers. This year hasn’t been any different, that is until a knock rings out in the empty vestibule drawing him up short as he lays out pamphlets for next week's Christmas service.

Pulling open the heavy oak doors, he’s surprised to see a new face. You stand there shivering in the cold, jacketed arms clutching your middle.

“H-hi,” you give him a bright smile despite your chattering teeth, “m-my car’s s-s-stuck in the s-snow and—“

Before you can finish, Leon’s opening the door wider, feeling chill bumps race across his arms as the cold winter air gusts past you and into the church.

“Please, come in,” he steps back so you’ll follow.

Once inside, he shuts and bolts the door closed.

“I’m s-so glad someone’s here,” you laugh.

Leon watches you, expression stoic even though internally he’s cataloging every single thing about you with heavy interest.

He sees your smile tremble a little, your own gaze roving his face.

“I’m s-sorry to bother you,” you rub your hands together for warmth, “if I c-could just make a call, I’ll b-be out of your hair in n-no time.”

You pull your cellphone out with a frown, “I h-haven’t had service in miles.”

Leon glances down at your hands before looking back up into your face, nervousness radiating from your body language.

He turns, talking loud enough for you to hear as you follow behind him, “Phone’s in the office. If you can’t reach anyone, I have a number to a local mechanic who can help tow you out.”

“Thank you so much,” your voice sounds relieved, “I hate bothering you, but I really appreciate the help.”

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.”

He glances back over his shoulder and sees your gaze wandering around the church, taking in the clean if rough hewn pews and stained glass windows. Your eyes cut to his quickly as if you sensed him watching, giving him a shy smile.

“You have a beautiful church, Mister?”

“Father Kennedy,” he answers, voice a little rougher than intended as you bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Sorry, not really up on my religion,” you laugh a little bashfully, “it’s nice to meet you, Father Kennedy.”

“Likewise,” Leon turns his attention to opening the office door, gesturing for you to enter first.

His eyes slide down your body, taking in your curves, and shaking away the urge to sink his teeth into your soft neck. You walk over to the old rotary phone, something Leon never updated as it still works just fine.

“Oh wow, my grandma had one of these!” you grin at him, “it’s so cute that you kept it for your office.”

That dark urge to bite you flares up in his chest again but he shoves it down. He nods at you instead of saying anything and you turn back to the phone.

Picking up the handset, you frown and click on the dial a few times before setting it back down on the cradle.

“Seems like your phone’s out,” you bite your lip again, looking agitated.

Leon shrugs, “Tends to happen this time of year. No telling when it’ll start working again.”

You nod along and blow out a breath, “Okay, we’ll I’ll head back to the car and see if I can—“

“Stay the night.”

That pulls you up short and he wants to laugh at the wide eyed look you give him.

“Stay here and we can try the phone again. If it doesn’t work, I can walk you to the nearest neighbor and try their phone.”

A soft smile crosses your face and Leon’s hit with an avalanche of impure want purring in his chest.

“Are you sure it’s no trouble? I mean I’d really appreciate it, but I don’t wanna put you out.”

“No trouble, besides I’m here to help those in need,” a crooked grin slips out, “and you seem to fit that description.”

Another shy bite of your lip has him shifting his feet, willing himself not to do anything to you.

“Okay then,” you give him the brightest smile yet, “thank you, Father Kennedy. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

A sudden flash of you thanking him on your knees floods his thoughts and he turns away from you, adjusting his half hard cock through his slacks, never more grateful to wear all black than now.

“Follow me please,” he calls out to you, listening as you quickly walk to catch up.

He also listens as you introduce yourself and explain as to why you’re out here in the first place, basically boiling it down to visiting some family for the holidays. Nodding along, he guides you into his living quarters which just happens to be a bedroom big enough to house a bed and a desk with a few bookshelves.

“It’s so cozy,” you gush, running your hand along some of the handmade quilts and crocheted throws the church parishioners have given him over the years.

“It’s home,” he states simply, moving to the fireplace and stoking the embers into a flame.

“I’m kinda impressed,” you say as you hang up your jacket near the door, “it’s really rare to see someone so young as a priest in these kinds of communities.”

When he only gives you a deadpan expression, you begin to flounder.

“Oh I mean, I grew up near here and so I’m just used to like older— you know what, I just feel like I’m digging a hole for myself,” you drag your palms across your eyes, “it’s just different is all. And either way I'm happy to have met you.”

Leon finally lets his lips quirk up into a half smile, amused at your reactions.

“I understand, it’s just funny to see you try to explain it,” he moves away from the fireplace and grabs a change of clothes, ignoring how your cute pout is making him feel.

“There’s a bathroom just through that door,” he points to his right, your left, “I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans. There’s also some spare toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.”

He watches as you get flustered when taking the simple sweats and cotton t-shirt.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” you duck your head trying to hide your face and disappear behind the bathroom door to change.

Leon lets out a long breath, trying to ease the tension building up in his chest. The wanting seems to only be getting worse the more time he’s spending with you. It’s like he’s a teenager seeing a skin magazine for the first time.

Has he really been out here that long without seeing a pretty little thing like you? He’s in the midst of his thoughts while removing his collar and unbuttoning his cassock when he hears a soft squeak.

He turns to see your eyes shut tight, hands clenching your bundled up clothes to your chest.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to!”

Leon frowns before looking down to see his bare chest offset by his rosary. Heat washes through him to see you peek again and bite down on your lip hard as you turn away.

“I honestly was on autopilot,” he murmurs, voice rough making him clear his throat, “apologies, I’ll go change in the bathroom while you get settled.”

You gasp as he brushes past you to enter the bathroom. Grabbing onto the sink, Leon stares at his own blown pupils in the mirror.

Get it together. It’s just a woman. A sweet woman. A pretty woman who probably has an equally pretty little cunt—

Shaking his head to clear it, he finishes dressing for bed. As he brushes his teeth, his eyes wander and notice the toothbrush you used sitting off to the side. A sudden flash of possessiveness surprises him leading him to quickly finish up and make his way back into the bedroom.

You startle, standing up from sitting at the edge of the bed.

Hands wringing together, you smile nervously, “Uh I-I wasn’t sure where to sleep? Like I can take the floor—“

He’s shaking his head already interrupting you, “We’ll share the bed. It gets extremely cold at night and it wouldn’t be safe to sleep on the floor.”

You frown over at the bed and look back at him apprehensively, “I can just use the quilts to make a pallet in front of the fire.”

“Please,” he gestures to the bed, “there’s no central heating and it gets deathly cold some nights. Even with the fire, I’d be afraid you would get frostbite.”

“I’ll sleep against the wall,” he softens his voice, “we’ll put pillows between us if you’d like and you can have the edge.”

He watches you bite on that damn lower lip again, wanting it between his own teeth.

Nodding, your eyes seek out his again, “Okay. And we’ll try again first thing in the morning?”

“Of course,” he agrees easily, “I tend to wake early so I can check and wake you if need be.”

Your features melt from concern to thankful, “That’s very sweet of you, Father.”

A hot pulse of arousal makes his dick twitch but Leon ignores it in favor of offering you a slight smile.

“Of course. Shall we?” he nods at the bed.

You climb in after him, settling down under the layers of blankets and quilts.

“I definitely never would’ve guessed I’d start my vacation by sharing a bed with a priest,” you giggle to yourself.

“Unusual to say the least,” he dryly replies, sea dark eyes watching as you turn on your side, back facing him.

You hum softly, shoulders twitching under the shirt and legs swishing under the covers.

“Good night, Father Kennedy,” your soft voice has him gripping the blanket tightly.

“Goodnight.”

It’s driving Leon up the wall with how badly he wants to reach out and touch you. Settling a little more, he listens as your breathing evens out and finds his own eyes slipping shut.

Later in the night, he wakes up to your tossing and turning, feeling you press your ass back against him. He stifles a groan, eyes adjusting to the low light from the fireplace. You keep fidgeting, accidentally rubbing against his chubbed cock until he’s thickening in his sweats. His heavy hand reaches down and grabs you hip, stilling your movement.

“Sorry,” your sleepily mumble, “‘m trying to get comfy.”

He dips his head down to ghost his lips across the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

He rocks forward, letting his bulge rub against your ass; you whine and press back against him harder.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“Sorry, huh?” he dips his tongue into your ear making you whimper, “are you asking for forgiveness?”

His hand grasps your hip and pulls you into a slow rhythm of grinding back against his stiff cock.

“Oh,” you mewl as he kisses the shell of your ear, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not how you ask,” he chuckles, kissing down your neck, “you know better than that.”

You moan as he bites down on the soft skin that’s been tempting him all this time.

“Forgive me, Father Kennedy,” you break the rhythm and grind back against him harder, “I’m so sorry I’m being so bad. God, can’t believe I’m dry humping a priest.”

A smack lands on your ass making you jump.

“We don’t take the Lord's name in vain either,” his low voice slips into your ear, “for that, you get those cute little nipples pinched.”

As you moan, he rolls you over onto your back, slipping an arm around your shoulders so both of his hands can knead and grope at your breasts.

“Pull your shirt up,” he murmurs in your ear, “be a good girl for me.”

You shove the t-shirt up to pool around your neck, hands settling back down to twist in the sheets. His fingers quickly move to circle and pinch your hard nipples.

“Oh, ohhh,” your eyes squeeze shut as he teases and rubs your hard buds, “Father, please.”

He bites your neck again making you writhe and press your breasts up into his hands.

“Please,” you whimper, eyes glimmering at him in the firelight, bottom lip swollen from your own teeth.

“Who knew such a tempting sinful girl would end up in my church much less my own bed,” he rumbles in your ear, grinding against your hip as he teases your nipples.

“Father Kennedy,” you swipe a soft, pink tongue against your lips, making his teeth ache, “shouldn’t we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?” he kisses your jaw, fingers tweaking your nipples sharply making you moan high in your throat.

“No, no, please, it’s so—you’re so hot,” you whine, hips squirming for friction under the blankets, “please, Father, want you so bad.”

“It’s a sin to tempt a priest,” he trails his lips across your neck to suck another mark into your skin, “you’ll have to repent.”

“H-how?” your eyes flutter, trying valiantly to stay open.

He pulls away with a smirk, “You’ll have to use your body in service to the Lord.”

A keening whimper escapes your lips, hands shakily reaching up to run through his sandy blonde hair.

“I-I’ll do anything,” you scratch your nails along his scalp making him groan, “just show me how I need to repent, Father Kennedy.”

He pulls his arm out from under you so he can climb on top of you, settling in between your thighs. Your hands pull his hair as he sucks a hard nipple into his hot mouth. He ruts against the mattress as he suckles each hard bud, nipping at the soft skin of your breasts and leaving marks everywhere.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a pair of tits in my face,” his voice is low, smoky, and he can feel your legs try to press together only stopped by his bulky body.

He takes his time, kissing the areola before running his tongue over your nipple, letting his teeth softly bite down before sucking it further into his mouth. Your hips buck up against his chest as he lays on top of you. He can feel how wet you’ve gotten already, the soft press of your panties against his skin leaving behind a sticky mess.

He pulls back to look up into your dazed eyes, “Let me taste that wet pussy.”

You moan, hands tensing in his hair, “Y-you want to?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” he grins, “besides I wanna clean up that messy cunt with my tongue before you get slick all over my sheets.”

He scoots down, dragging his lips across your tummy and dropping kisses as he goes.

“We’ll keep the blankets pulled up so you don’t get cold,” he murmurs as he bites your hip bone before soothing it with his tongue.

You give him a shaky nod, “Okay, Father.”

He bucks his hips at that, feeling his cock leak in his sweats. He feels as you tug the blankets up and when he looks back up he can barely see your face making this seem so illicit and dirty it’s getting him even harder.

He quickly eases your panties down your legs and tosses them on the outside of the blankets before settling between your legs again. Leon lets his instructive thoughts win and bites bruise after bruise into the dough of your thighs, sucking and worrying the skin until you're squirming against his mouth.

He bites his way up to the crease of your thigh then lets his tongue trail across your skin until he’s lapping at your swollen clit. He hears as you moan loudly, thighs falling open wider as he hungrily licks into your cunt.

“You taste like sin,” he groans as he pulls back to spread your pussy open, “so fucking good.”

Pressing his face tightly against your slick coated lips, he flutters his tongue into your soaked hole and grinds his nose against your bundle of nerves. He slips his tongue in and out of your hole before licking back up to your throbbing clit, softly kissing the sensitive bud again and again until sucking it gently into his mouth.

Sweat beads around his hairline as it grows warmer underneath the layers of covers. Leon mouths at your sloppy cunt until you’re moaning loudly as slick coats his chin and lower jaw. Once your thighs start to tremble, he pulls away and crawls back up your body. The cooler air of the room kissing his sweaty skin as your hands scrabble against his shoulders.

“‘M so close,” you whimper as you tug him into a messy kiss, “wanna cum, please Father.”

He clicks his tongue, “You have to work hard for forgiveness,” he presses his thumb down against your chin making your lips part.

“Maybe we should try filling that mouth up first,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes droop.

You nod, running your hands down his broad chest, “Please, wanna see you, too.”

Surprise crosses his features, but he schools it into a crooked smile, “Aren’t you sweet? Take your shirt off for me while I get undressed.”

In no time, he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, completely nude save for the rosary around his neck. When he goes to slip it off, your hand snaps around his wrist.

He watches as the embarrassment wars with arousal as you ask him to keep wearing it. His dick throbs and kicks against his thigh and your eyes go lidded as they take in his thick cock.

“Allow me to show you how sorry I am, Father,” you scratch your nails across his chest all the way down his toned stomach to a happy trail that leads to the thatch of hair above his cock.

Goosebumps travel across his skin when you rub across his hips bones, breath ghosting across the drippy head of his dick.

Your tongue lathes over the slit, circling his tip and teasing under his foreskin before you pull back.

That shy look steals over your face, “Can you sit here?”

You pat the gap in the pillows in front of the headboard. Leon’s lips quirk in amusement and shifts to sit with his back to the headboard and legs splayed out across the bed. You move to kneel in between his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his stiff cock.

He watches as you lean forward, one hand coming up to grip the base of his cock as the other rests on his thigh, and slowly sucks the head of his dick into your mouth. Your eyes shutter with a moan as you take more and more of his cock into your mouth until you choke.

Pulling off with a gasp, your watery eyes blink open staying on his as you sink back down on his cock. His abdomen tenses and he grabs the back of your neck with his broad palm to guide your head.

“No need to rush,” his eyes track your tongue as you lick and kiss all along his dripping slit.

“You taste so good,” you moan as you lick your way down to his balls.

Leon keeps his gaze on you as your wet mouth sucks his balls into your mouth, whining when you can’t fit both at the same time. You smear your face against the spit slick skin of his squishy sac as you nuzzle and suck his taint.

“Oh, good girl,” he parts his legs wider so your mouth can reach him easier.

Your glazed eyes slide shut when you slip your tongue down further to ghost across his asshole. Tongue drifting lazily against it, Leon grunts when you finally lick into him.

“Such an eager girl,” he rasps as you softly eat him out, tongue eagerly rimming his hole.

You sloppily makeout with his hole as his cock weeps precum everywhere; his own heavy hands keep your face buried between his cheeks.

When you finally pull back, your chin’s coated with spit.

“Suck my cock a little more and I’ll fill up that needy cunt,” he pulls your swollen mouth to the weeping head.

Whining, you easily follow along and let his thick cock sink back into your mouth. He luxuriates in the feeling, the feeling of your hot hungry mouth slurping loudly around his dick. You moan and whine around him, rubbing your thighs together for friction. He smirks to see you acting so needy, so obedient in servicing him.

“Up,” he murmurs, grabbing your neck and pulling you off of his cock.

Your hands reach out to dig into his pecs, framing the rosary between your hands as you straddle his lap, his cock snugly pressing against your pussy.

“Oh, Father, please,” you grind down on his wet cock, dragging slick along his throbbing length until your clit’s bumping his tip.

“Poor little lamb,” his hands grab your hips, letting you rock against him.

With the grip he has on your hips, he easily manhandles you onto your back, kneeling between your spread legs, cock leaking all over your wet cunt.

“Oh god,” you mewl, scratching at his chest.

He spanks your clit with his fat cock.

“What did I say about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

Your pupils swallow any color left in your eyes, “‘m sorry, daddy. I don’t mean to be bad.”

“Fuck,” he growls, slapping your cunt with his cock over and over to make your hips jump, “are you misbehaving on purpose?”

Head shaking no, you wrap your legs around his waist, “No, I didn’t mean— it just slipped out. I‘m sorry, Father Kennedy.”

He nudges the tip of his cock into your hole, making you keen and rock down. The pressure around just the head makes him want to be rougher, meaner with you.

He grins smugly down at you, “You just can’t help it, can you? The wetter this pussy gets the dumber you are, right? What a slut.”

You whine, the heels of your bare feet digging into the back of his legs, goading him to slide deeper into your cunt.

“Yes, I’m your slut, Father,” your hands tug on his rosary making him groan and fuck his dick into your spasming cunt.

His heavy weight drops over your body, earning another low whine followed by your nails scoring a hot trail across his shoulders. He shudders, enjoying that small bite of pain as your eyes roll back in your head, pussy sucking him in even deeper somehow.

“Pretty cunt just needed me buried balls deep in her, huh?” he groans as he pulls out just to sink back into your pussy, “so tight.”

“W-wait,” your voice goes high with sudden realization, “I thought p-priests were banned f-from having sex,” you gasp out, stuttering through Leon’s thrusts.

“Baby,” he coos condescendingly, “you don’t think I was some silly little virgin, did you?”

He boxes you in even more, dropping down on his forearms that rest on each side of your head.

“But I gotta say, you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever fucked,” he kisses your mouth, “so wet,” he drops another kiss to your lips, “and tight,” and another kiss ending with a rough bite of your bottom lip, “this kitty’s been purring for my dick all night.”

Your head thrashes against the pillow at his words, “Yes, yes, fuck,” tears drip from your lash line, “it’s so good, Father Kennedy.”

Molten heat rushes through his veins at your wanton face paired with that sweet voice. His teeth sink into that plush bottom lip, suckling on it until you tug your head back with a soft cry. It’s swollen and split from his teeth, a small bead of blood welling up only for him to lick it away with a groan.

He licks into your mouth, mixing spit and blood until he’s sucking your tongue past his own greedy lips. His cock slowly ruts in and out of your clenching hole as he kisses you breathless. Your fingers tangle in his rosary, tugging him back to your mouth every time he goes to pull away.

Leon lets himself go; stops trying to control himself and settles into fucking into your warm, wet cunt with harsh skin slapping thrusts. He bites anywhere his mouth can reach, leaving dark bruises or even outright bloody teeth marks behind. His dark eyes keep track of your pleasure as well; if you wince, he makes sure to lathe his tongue across a bite instead of sinking his teeth into you again or fucks his cock shallowly into your pussy instead of knocking against your cervix how he likes.

You reward him with pretty little cries and pleads against his lips; your doughy thighs clasped tightly around his waist as you beg for him to ruin your cunt. He wrings orgasm after orgasm until your body’s spent and you're babbling incoherently.

He keeps you underneath him all night, trading blood tinged kisses as his cock stuffs your squelching pussy. Sunlight begins to stream through the snow tinted windows when he finally manhandles your body to straddle over him once again.

Leon feels like this must truly be what heaven is like. You, seated in his lap as he buries his cock to the hilt in your hot little cunt watching as you grind down against him. Fat dimples between his fingers as he grips your ass tightly, helping you keep rhythm as he bounces you up and down his dick.

“Oh Father Kennedy,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t—“

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, easing your harsh grind into a slow back and forth, “you can give me one more so I can feel that pussy squeeze me so I can put a nice thick load in her.”

His fingers slowly circle and pinch your pudgy clit, letting you rock against him a little faster.

“Oh, I’m-I’m g’nna,” you hiccup a sob, tears dripping from your eyes as he works your exhausted body towards another orgasm.

“Call me, Leon,” he smiles at you, the first genuine one he’s actually offered to anyone in quite a long time, “now cum for me, squeeze me nice and tight.”

“Leon, Leon, I-I’m cumming,” you gasp out, a mewling cry slipping past your swollen lips as your pussy milks Leon’s cock for the upteenth time since this all started.

“Good girl, so good for me,” he groans, letting your climax coax his own from him, grabbing your hips to hold you snug to him.

He growls up at you, cock jumping inside your spasming pussy as rope after rope of sticky cum spurts inside your fluttering walls.

“Leon, oh, it’s so warm,” you whimper, one hand settling on your belly and the other resting on Leon’s heaving chest.

“Fuck,” he yanks you down into a messy, spit filled kiss.

You whine and he softens it, titling his mouth up to press softer kisses to your lips until pulling away. Easing down next to him, you snuggle into his side, burying your face in his neck.

“So am I forgiven now?” you tease, fingers tracing over the beads of his rosary.

“Might need to spend some time with me in the confessional,” he presses a kiss to your hair, “just to make sure it takes.”

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #priest!leon s kennedy #priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #priest!leon s kennedy smut #priest!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #priest!leon x reader #💀 anon

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nothingsure27 · 1 month

Text

🍃Unplanned Journey🍃

Pairing : Park Sunghoon as father, fluff🍬 _________________________________

-⚘

Chap. 6

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☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sunghoon was tidying up the front counter, wiping down the shelves and checking the expiration dates of the products.

As he worked, his thoughts kept drifting to his shift at the restaurant later in the evening.

He mentally ran through the specials, wondering if he had enough stock left to cover the orders. Suddenly, the jangling of the bell above the door interrupted his thoughts,

and he looked up to find an elderly woman hobbling into the store.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Sunghoon greeted her politely, putting on his best customer service smile.

"What can I help you with today?"

The elderly woman looked up at Sunghoon with a small smile.

"Good afternoon, young man," she said, her voice weathered with age. "I just need a few things, dear."

"Of course," Sunghoon replied, stepping out from behind the counter.

"What do you need, ma'am?"

"I need some snacks for my grandchildren," she said,

"They're coming over tomorrow and they love all this junk food, can you suggest me some?."

Her voice warm and she has smile on her face as she was talking to sunghoon.

"Sure thing." Sunghoon led the elderly woman over to the snack aisle.

"Do your grandchildren have any specific favorites? Chips, candies, cookies?"

The old lady thought for a moment,

The old woman's gaze swept across the shelves of colorful packages.

"My granddaughter's loves gummy bears," she said.

"But the sour ones and.. do you have mint choco flavour icecream and chewingum?" Her voice was tinged with affection.

"We do have all of those," Sunghoon confirmed, steering her towards the correct sections.

"Here are the sour gummy bears," he said, picking up the item and put it on cart,.

"And the mint choco ice cream is over there, and we've got several options for chewing gum."

The old woman nodded in approval as Sunghoon led her around the store, picking up the items she needed.

She watched him closely, taking note of his polite demeanor and friendly face.

"You're very patient, young man," she said, her tone warm.

"Most teenagers don't have your level of patience."

Sunghoon chuckled slightly, his cheeks coloring a bit at the unexpected compliment.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "But really, it's no trouble. Everyone deserves to be treated with kindness, regardless of age."

The old woman chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with warmth.

"You speak like someone much older than your age," she remarked. "It's refreshing to see such maturity in a young man."

Sung-hoon smiled at the comment, feeling a pang of pride at being recognized for his maturity.

"I guess I've always been a bit more mature for my age," he admitted. "I had to grow up pretty fast."

Time Skip-

-🌃

The night air was crisp, and the streets were beginning to empty as people headed home.

Sunghoon, tired from his long shifts as

He was walking along the dimly lit street, the only light coming from the street lamps and the occasional shop window. Siwoon clung to Sunghoon's hand, his other hand clutching his worn-out penguin plushie

The soft noises of the night, like distant conversations and cars passing by, filled the air, creating a comforting background hum as they walked together.

As The street was slowly winding down for the night, the sounds of music and laughter coming from the few bars that were still open.

Despite the late hour, there were still a few people about, either heading home from work or enjoying a late night out

Sunghoon glanced down at Si-woon, who was looking a bit sleepy, his small head starting to droop.

"Are you tired, buddy?" he asked softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Siwoon gave a tiny nod, blinking up at Sunghoon with heavy eyelids.

His grip on the penguin plushie didn't loosen, though. He held onto it like it was a lifeline.

Sunghoon smiled a bit, his heart swelling with affection.

"Just a bit longer, we're almost home," he reassured Siwoon, giving his hand another squeeze.

After a few more minutes, they finally reached their small apartment building. The front door gave a familiar creak as Sunghoon pushed it open,

the faint sound of the TV from their neighbors' apartment filtered through the thin walls

Inside, the cramped one-bedroom apartment was dimly lit by a small lamp. The living room was clean but sparse,

only a small couch, a coffee table, and a worn- out rug on the floor.

Siwoon's toys were neatly stacked in one corner, and the kitchen was visible through a small archway.

Sunghoon quietly closed the door behind him and turned to Siwoon, who had perked up a bit upon seeing the familiar surroundings.

"We're home, buddy," he said softly, gently coaxing him to let go of his penguin plushie so he could take off his small shoes.

Si-woon reluctantly released his penguin, his small hands coming up to rub at his eyes. He was clearly exhausted, his usual energetic demeanor all but gone

Sunghoon knelt down in front of his son, his heart aching at the sight of his tired child.

"You're exhausted, huh?" he asked softly, brushing a gentle hand through Si-woon's messy hair.

Siwoon nodded, his small body swaying with exhaustion.

He clumsily reached out to Sunghoon, his arms stretching out in a silent request to be picked up.

Sunghoon obliged, lifting Siwoon up into his arms with ease.

The boy's small body molded against him, his head falling against his shoulder as he snuggled in, his eyes half-closed.

Sunghoon held him close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Let's get you to bed," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle. He carried Siwoon into the small bedroom, the room was lit up by a small night light in the corner.

He laid Siwoon down on the small twin-sized bed, pulling the covers up to his chest.

He then sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand continuing to brush gentle strokes across Siwoon's hair, his thumb gently rubbing his forehead.

his eyes already fluttering closed as he curled onto his side, clutching his penguin plushie close to his heart.

Siwoon's eyelids fluttered open fighting against the pull of sleep.

He looked up at his father, his small hand reaching out to grab the front of Sunghoon's shirt, clutching it tightly

Sunghoon smiled down at him, his tired eyes filled with love. "I'm here,"

he reassured him quietly. "You can go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

he whispered, continuing to soothe him. He gently pried Siwoon's fingers off his shirt, carefully folding his small hand back under the covers

Siwoon's eyes finally closed, his grip loosening as he gave in to the pull of sleep.

His small chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful, exhausted sleep.

Sunghoon watched him for a few more moments, as watched his son asleep, his eyes tracing over the small boy's face, taking in his every feature.

Siwoon looked so tiny and vulnerable in his sleep, his breath coming out in soft little puffs

He stayed seated on the edge of the bed, his hand still brushing gently through Si-woon's hair, as he watched his son sleep.

his gaze soft and affectionate. He reached out to straighten the covers, then gently pressed a kiss to the top of Siwoon's head.

he stood up quietly, his movements slow and measured to not disturb the sleeping boy. Siwoon was still fast asleep, clutching his penguin plushie tightly.

He looked back to Siwoon one more time, his heart clenching in his chest.

The boy was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the weight the world sat on his father's shoulders.

He then carefully left the room, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear if Si-woon woke up.

He let out a weary sigh as he walked into the living room, the weight of the day finally catching up to him.

He plopped down onto the couch, the worn-out cushions sinking beneath his weight. He leaned back,

his head resting against the back of the couch, and closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day starting to hit him.

He could feel his muscles aching under his clothes, a subtle reminder of the double-shifts he's been working lately.

He knew he should probably get some sleep, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of work, bills, and the never-ending challenges of being a single dad.

After a few moments of stillness, he opened his eyes and took out his wallet, fishing out the crumpled bills he had earned from his two shifts. He counted them, his eyes taking in the pitiful sum. Even putting in all those extra hours, he was still barely making ends meet.

He sighed again, the weight of his financial struggles pressing down on him like a heavy boulder.

He folded the money back up and tucked it back into his wallet, silently adding it to the growing list of worries.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second echoing in the quiet living room. Sunghoon sat there in silence for a long while, his mind swimming with thoughts and worries.

The sound of the clock was almost deafening in the quiet, the only other sound coming from the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

He looked over at the small kitchen, the only real food currently in the fridge were a few apples and some leftover rice from the night before.

He knew he needed to get groceries soon, but he also knew it would be a struggle to make it to the end of the week with the budget he had.

He was about to get up and pour himself a glass of water when he heard a soft shuffling sound coming from the bedroom. He immediately paused,

As soon as Sunghoon walked into the room, he saw Siwoon tossing and turning in his bed,

small whimpers and unintelligible words falling from his lips. The boy was clearly having a nightmare.

Sunghoon quickly made his way over to the bed, his heart aching at the sight of his son distressed in his sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Siwoon's shoulder. "Siwoon," he said quietly, his voice laced with concern.

"Wake up, buddy. You're dreaming."

Siwoon's small face contorted in distress, his eyes still firmly closed.

"Don't leave...Papa..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt his heart clench in his chest at the thought of his son dreaming about him leaving.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured him softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Siwoon's back.

"Papa's right here, it's just a bad dream."

But Siwoon didn't seem to hear him, his distress only increasing.

He tossed and turned in the bed, small whimpers and mumbled pleas falling from his lips.

"Don't leave... please... don't leave again..."

Sunghoon felt a stab of pain in his heart. Again. The word echoed in his head, fueling his guilt.

He gently shook Siwoon's shoulder again, his voice growing more urgent.

"Siwoon, wake up. You're dreaming, it's just a dream," he repeated, desperately trying to reach his son through his nightmare.

Siwoon's eyes suddenly snapped open, his small body jolting upright in the bed. He looked around frantically, his eyes wide and frightened.

When he finally spotted Sunghoon, sitting on the edge of the bed, a sob escaped his lips.

"Papa," he whimpered, his small hands reaching out towards him.

Sunghoon wasted no time in scooping him up into his arms, holding him close against his chest. Siwoon clung to him tightly, his small body trembling with the aftermath of the nightmare.

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay," Sunghoon whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Siwoon's back.

He could feel the boy's heart racing against his own chest, the panicked heartbeat slowly calming down with each passing second.

He sat there, holding Siwoon against him, his own heart heavy with the weight of his guilt.

He knew what his son's nightmare was about, and the realization only amplified the guilt he carried with him every day.

"It was just a dream. Papa's here, I'm not leaving," he repeated in a soft, comforting whisper.

Siwoon's small hands gripped tightly at the front of Sunghoon's shirt, like a lifeline.

He buried his face against his father's chest, his tears dampening the fabric. Sunghoon held him close, his own eyes welling up at the sight of his son's distress.

He continued to rub soothing circles on his back, his hand gently stroking the boy's hair as he whispered reassurances.

"It's okay, buddy. Everything's okay. Papa's here, I promise."

They sat like that for a long moment, the silence only broken by the sound of Siwoon's small sobs.

Sunghoon held him close, murmuring comfort in his ear, his heart aching with each hitch in his son's breathing.

After a while, Siwoon's sobs subsided, his body growing heavy with exhaustion.

His small fists slowly let go of Sunghoon's shirt, his head resting limply against his father's chest.

Sung-hoon gently pulled back to look at his son.

Siwoon's face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looked utterly exhausted, his body sagging against Sunghoon's chest.

"You're alright," Sunghoon whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Siwoon's head.

"It was just a dream. Papa's here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Siwoon mumbled something unintelligible against his chest, nuzzling his face further into his shirt.

His eyes were slowly drooping closed again, the exhaustion of the nightmare and the emotional release taking its toll

Sunghoon noticed the change in his son's breathing, the deep, even breaths signaling that he had finally fallen asleep again.

Carefully, he laid Siwoon back down on the bed, his hand gently stroking his hair

As Siwoon settled back into sleep, Sunghoon stayed there for a few moments, watching his son's face.

The fear and distress of the nightmare were replaced now with the peaceful, innocent look of a child in deep sleep.

He continued to stroke Siwoon's hair, his touch gentle and loving, .

trying not to wake the child. He tucked the covers around Siwoon's small frame, making sure he was properly tucked in and wouldn't get cold during the night

As Sunghoon sank back down on the edge of the bed, his hand resuming its gentle stroking motions through Siwoon's hair.

He watched as his son slept peacefully, his small chest rising and falling steadily with each breath.

He sat there quietly, his mind replaying the earlier scene of the look of fear on his son's face. His heart ached,

he don't know why siwoon always have the same nightmare of him leaving siwoon it squeeze his heart too much seeing his son's eye filled with tear & fear for him, the fear Of his father leaving him, how he plea in sleep how he tremble.

He continued stroking Siwoon's hair, his fingers tracing the soft strands, a soothing repetitive motion.

"Don't worry little men, no matter what is this nightmare about! I won't let that nightmare to be real in your life."

" no matter what happens.. and what comes next.. your papa is always with you I promise." he said,

-🌄

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

Siwoon stirred in his bed, his small body shifting under the covers.

He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

Siwoon turned his head slightly, his eyes settling on the figure on the edge of his bed.

His father, Sunghoon, was slumped over, his upper body resting against the bed. He was fast asleep, one hand still on Siwoon's hair.

Siwoon silently shifted in bed, sliding his small body closer to his father. He looked at him for a moment, taking in his father's peaceful, albeit uncomfortable, sleeping position.

He knew from his own experience and from what his father had told him that sleeping in such positions could make the some body parts hurt.

With great effort, Siwoon managed to pull the blanket up to his father's shoulders, tucking it around him gently.

As he adjusted the blanket, he looked up at his father's sleeping face.

Sunghoon looked so worn-out, his face weary even in sleep. His heart ached at the sight of his father like this, knowing the constant struggles and pressures he's been under,

even tho siwoon is half 5 year old kid he is bit mature in his ownself than other kids, who just understand his father's struggle pains sometimes he can feel it his heart ache squeez,

maybe that is what called connection of blood ? Or maybe he just understand what the people around them says or talk to him, about his father? & him, he felt hurt and that where he earned that knowledge.?

Once done tucking his father in, Siwoon sat on the bed for a few more moments, just staring at his sleeping father He wanted so badly to take some of his struggle away, to ease his father's pain. But he was just a child, and there was only so much he could do.

After a few more minutes, he slowly edged off the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might disturb his father's sleep.

He padded silently towards the door, clutching his penguin plushy in ome arm, turning back to look at his father one last time before quietly closing the bedroom door behind him.

Once in the living room, he glanced around the small room, a little balcony over there and a small kitchen at the doorway side,

the room with an couch small coffee table, was quiet in the early morning light, the only sounds coming from the slight hustle of the city outside. He turned to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling a little.

He walked over to the kitchen, his small bare feet making no sound on the cold floor.

He opened the fridge, the light from inside casting a cold glow on his face.

There was a small tupperware of leftover rice, a couple of apples, and a nearly empty carton of eggs.

His stomach growled again., & he was too hungry to care.

He reached up to the top shelf of the fridge, stretching as far as his little arms would allow, and grabbed one of the apples.

He hopped down from the stool he was standing on and took a big bite out of the apple.

The cold crisp, sweet taste filled his mouth, instantly making his stomach feel a bit better.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, taking large bites of the apple as he looked around him.

The kitchen was small and modest, the countertops a bit worn with age.

But it was functional, and it was home. He looked over at the small dining table in the corner, the only other furniture in the kitchen aside from the fridge, stove, and sink.

He took another big bite of his apple, the crunch seeming oddly out of place in the quiet of the morning.

He looked around the kitchen again, his eyes falling on the stove.

He knew his father would need to start getting ready soon to go to work again.

The convenience store was warm and bright, the hum of the air conditioning blending with the soft music coming from the overhead speaker.

It was a slow afternoon, the stream of customers coming in and out of the store was sparse but steady

The small bell on the door of the convenience store chimed as it opened, letting in a gust of cool air.

A few customers milled around the narrow aisles, browsing the shelves and chatting with each other.

Siwoon sat in a corner, he was clinging tightly to his favorite plushy, a cute penguin with a blue-patterned scarf around its neck.

He had his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, the tip of his feet not quite touching the floor, he watched as his father working he was superb busy today.

Today Sunghoon wasn't working behind the cash counter, but restocking shelves.,

taking the boxes, cartons inside from the truck outside he was too busy today barely even has the time to breath, today their boss is here working on cash counter,

Sunghoon was moving back and forth, carrying heavy boxes and restocking the shelves with drinks and instant ramen. His face was a sheen of sweat, his breathing was coming out in labored gasps.

The boss was keeping a close eye on the other 4 staffs & on him, barking orders to keep the store running smoothly

From time to time, Sunghoon would glance over at Siwoon, who was sitting quietly in the corner,

his attention on his penguin plush. The sight of his son brought a small, sad smile to Sunghoon's face, but it quickly vanished as he was shouted at by the boss to hurry up.

The afternoon rush was on, and the store was bustling with activity.

Customers came in and out, grabbing essentials before heading back to their offices.

Sunghoon continued to restock the shelves, his muscles aching from the constant lifting and bending.

"Hurry it up, everyone We have a lot to finish before closing," the boss barked from the cash register.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, his hands grabbing another heavy box of instant ramen packs.

He forced himself to keep going, his body protesting with every move. He knew he had to keep up the pace,

Sunghoon huffed, stacking up more boxes of instant noodles on the shelf.

His body was screaming for a break, but he didn't dare to stop. Not with the boss around and watching his every move

He glanced over at Siwoon again, his heart clenching at the sight of his son's small form sitting in the corner.

He knew Siwoons is probably hungry and bored, by now its 01:19 pm at clock,

but he couldn't do anything about it right now. He had to finish the work first, and then if there was even time, he would take a small break to get him something to eat.

He knew he had to keep going, for Siwoon's sake.

As Sunghoon was restocking the shelves, he passed by the corner where Siwoon was sitting.

He quickly knelt down, pretending to arrange some bags of chips on the lower shelf.

"Hey Buddy," he said quietly, keeping his voice down so the boss wouldn't hear him.

"Why don't you eat some biscuits from bag hm?" He kept the best of his smiley face, & as much as cheerful cool expression in his voice he could infornt of his son,

He pointed subtly towards Siwoon's small backpack, beside siwoon the biscuit packet peaking out of the open zipper, Siwoon nodded silently, & also gave him the smile face as his father was giving.

Siwoon nodded silently, pretending he was okay. In reality, he was starting to feel a bit hungry.

As Siwoon silently sat there, waiting for his father to move away, cz the biscuits he is talking about, were already finished many days ago.

That He hadn't told his father about it yet, knowing that his father was already busy, tired with work and expenses. he didn't want to add to his worries more

Siwoon sat quietly, his small hands gripped tightly around his penguin plushy.

While his father continued to work, Siwoon remained silent and motionless in the corner, watching him go back and forth.

He knew he would soon be asked if he had eaten anything, and he had already decided to lie and say that he had. He didn't want to burden his father more,

Besides, he could deal with a little hunger. It was nothing compared to the exhaustion on his father's face.

As Sunghoon finished restocking the shelf and moved away, Siwoon pretended to rummage through his bag as if he was eating something, just in case his father looked back

All the while, he felt a pang of guilt for not being honest with his father even tho he promised him, but he pushed the feeling aside.

He knew his father had enough on his plate without worrying about snacks too. The soft growl of his stomach was a reminder of his own hunger, but he ignored

"Okay everyone great work! For today"

the boss said little clapping his hand "since its lunch time already.. lets take a break & today's lunch is from me guys"

The boss' voice echoed through the store, announcing the lunch break. Everyone in the store cheered a little, thankful for the break and the free lunch.

Sunghoon, too, felt his mood slightly lifted, the prospect of a lunch break was like a small relief after hours of relentless work.

"Just don't take too long," the boss added, a slight warning tone in his voice, "we have to finish the restocking by closing." With that,

he turned and walked towards the back office, probably to get the food he had ordered.

The other employees started chattering amongst themselves, some heading outside for a quick smoke,

others stretching their aching bodies. Sunghoon glanced over at Siwoon who was still sitting in the corner, playing quietly with his penguin plushy.

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Si-woon hadn't eaten anything. He sighed and walked over to him, crouching down next to him. He reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately

"Buddy! Have you eaten the biscuits?" Sunghoon asked,

Siwoon swallowed, his small fingers fidgeting with the penguin plush’s soft fur. He could feel his father's expectant gaze on him, waiting for an answer.

The lie he had prepared earlier was on the tip of his tongue, ready to be uttered.

But as he looked up into his father's tired yet kind eyes, he found himself faltering. His heart ached with guilt.

He loved his father, and the last thing he wanted to do was lie to him.

However, the thought of worrying his father further, or worse, making him feel worse because Siwoon was hungry, made him hold his tongue.

He swallowed again, forcing a small nod of confirmation, "yes did appa.." he muttered softly, unable to meet his father's gaze.

He fidgeted some more with the penguin plush, the lie he just told making his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Sunghoon studied Siwoon's face for a moment, his eyes searching for any signs of untruthfulness.

But siwoon's gaze was averted, and aside from the slight hunch of his shoulders, he gave no indication that he was lying

noticing Siwoon's discomfort and the way he was avoiding eye contact.

Instinctively, he knew something was off. He gently placed his large hand on the boy's little shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his voice soft but probing.

He looked down at the half open backpack beside, the biscuit packet visible from where it was tucked away.

He hated pressing Siwoon like this, but he also knew when his son was lying.

Maybe it was a father's sixth sense, but he could tell that Siwoon hadn't eaten.

"Buddy, you can tell me," he encouraged, keeping his voice low and reassuring.

"Did you really eat the biscuits?" He gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping to coax the truth out.

He waited, giving Si-woon time to respond.

He could see the conflict in the child's eyes, the internal struggle between telling the truth and continuing the lie.

"Hey park Sunghoon are you gonna come here and eat?!! Or not! The food is getting cold" his boss screamed.

Sunghoon looked up, startled by his boss’s sudden booming voice.

He had been so caught up in the moment with Siwoon, he had almost forgotten about the lunch break.

"Yeah, I’m coming!" he called back, his voice slightly agitated. He gave Siwoon a small, reassuring smile. Before standing up.

"How about some lunch, buddy?" he asked,

trying to keep his voice light. He smiled warmly at Siwoon. And grabbed his hand walking toward office room.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

_______________TO BE CONTINUED

(I didn't recheck so unsee my mistakes in grammar spelling I hope you guys enjoyed the first one chap look forward for more. Do note & reblog🍃 & let me know your opinion pls :' ()

and lastly so soon sorry for late update >:

#sunghoon angst #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon x you #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen angst #enha angst #enha fluff #enha x reader #fluff and angst #father son

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sirfrogsworth · 4 months

Text

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

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libraryofgage · 1 year

Text

Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)

Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^

The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao

CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)

----

Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.

Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.

He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.

He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.

Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.

Steve comes up empty.

Shit.

He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.

Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"

"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.

He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.

Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?

"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.

"What kind of favor?"

If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."

"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.

"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"

Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.

"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."

"Will it be fun?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.

"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."

----

On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.

Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.

"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."

"You don't look Jewish."

Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.

Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"

Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"

"What the fuck would I be angry about?"

"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."

Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."

Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.

"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.

A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."

"My shirt literally says Hellfire."

"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.

The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"

He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.

Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.

Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.

By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."

Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."

Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."

Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"

"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."

"The Misha what now?"

"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."

Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."

Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."

Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.

"Cuz I like it that way."

"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"

"Because they're cool."

"Oh. Why did you need healing?"

"I was hurt really bad."

"Oh. By what?"

"A bear."

"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"

Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."

Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"

"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"

Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"

With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."

Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.

"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.

Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.

"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.

"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"

"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"

"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."

Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.

"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.

"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"

Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."

Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."

Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.

When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.

Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."

"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."

That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.

The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"

Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"

Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."

Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"

"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."

Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."

"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."

"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.

Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"

"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."

"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."

Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"

It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.

A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.

After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."

Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.

"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."

Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.

Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."

Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."

That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.

And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.

After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.

The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.

They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.

The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.

And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.

Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.

----

"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"

Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."

Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."

"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.

Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.

Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.

"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."

"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"

Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.

So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."

Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."

Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.

And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.

Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...

And so much more.

But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.

After all, they've got brownies to steal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jewish steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing #this is so fucking self indulgent guys

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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It’s funny what you remember from childhood. A perfect spring day. A trip to the zoo. A thoughtful gift from a loved one. Me? Oh, just the usual: I’m dogged, every waking hour, by images of the old parking garage at the mall.

Now, I should do some qualification for all this. I didn’t actually like going to the mall (unless it was to buy toy cars; the satisfaction was short-lived, however, because they always looked suspiciously new and shiny once the package was opened.) What I enjoyed was the experience of being pulled off the street, into a building that you could drive through. The steeply angled ramps, which they’d try their best to de-ice in the winter. The flickering pillars. The beautiful red canopy on the top storey. The awkwardly long hallway to and from the mall that felt like a trip on its own.

Those of you who are too young to remember malls may now be horrified at how a place of capitalist worship has burned itself permanently into my memory. This is understandable: studies have shown that kids raised on the internet now identify most closely with abstract geometric solids and specific kinds of wait cursor. I hope you really have fond memories that fill you with joy of “flickering purple square” in 20 years. I cannot, for the life of me, remember anything about the interior of the mall. If I strain really hard, I can imagine the awkward chairs at the food court. That’s it. The parking garage is where it began and ended for me as an impressionable youth.

Nowadays, I can’t resist a good parking garage. Unfortunately, a lot of them charge a lot of cash to enter, or at least to leave. This is because the operators of these garages are solely in “the parking business.” They’re not interested in why you’re there, they just want to trap your car in money jail. As a result, I rarely get to do full-throttle rips around spiral ramps anymore, unless I’m volunteering for court-ordered community service, escorting the elderly or otherwise un-car-able around town. That childhood parking garage has long since been destroyed, but it lives on in my memory and probably that of like four other freaks, who are also a menace to society.

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matan4il · 7 months

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Daily update post:

This morning started with the horrible news about an independent Palestinian terrorist attack on the main road to Jerusalem. As workers come into the city in the morning, there's a junction where at this morning time, there's usually a traffic jam. Three Palestinians (from the Beit Lechem area, two of them brothers) started shooting from assault rifles at people sitting in their cars, as if they were fish in a barrel (hand grenades were found as well, but thankfully they didn't get to use them). Currently, the reports are of 1 person murdered (26 years old Matan Elmaliach), and 11 wounded (on TV, they're saying 13 more were wounded, including a young pregnant woman in very serious condition). A spokesman for Magen David Adom (Red Star of David) said that the terrorist attack scene was 500 meters long (about 1640 feet). Two of the terrorists were neutralized immediately, and the third was after a chase. The father of one of the wounded said his son just finished his army reserves service, noticed the terrorist attack, tried to stop one of the terrorists, and in the process was shot himself.

On a personal note, my mom's cousin sometimes works in Jerusalem, coming in through that junction, and his wife sometimes comes with him, so after I woke up from a nightmare about a baby crying because its limbs were amputated by Hamas terrorists, I had to contact my family to check that they're alive, and figure out when it's okay to wake my mom up, so she doesn't get scared for her cousin when she hears the news.

A terrorist attack that was carried out about a month ago, has now been revealed as originally targeting the IDF spokesman in Arabic, Avichay Adraee. Turns out one of the terrorists, who was working in Ra'anana, walked into a restaurant and saw Adraee. The terrorist couldn't kill him on the spot, but returned with a weapon the next day and staked the area (assuming Adraee lived somewhere nearby) for a while, before he decided if he couldn't carry out a "quality" terrorist attack, he still wanted to carry out one. He got his cousin employeed, and together, the two murdered a 79 years old woman, Edna Bluestein, and wounded 18 others. I just think it says something, that an army officer, and an elderly civilian woman, are equally legit targets in these terrorists' mind, because they're both citizens of the Jewish state. Both terrorists were indicted today.

Survivors of the Nova music festival carnage on Oct 7 are suing AP for hiring 4 photojournalists that were embedded with Hamas, and should have been identified as such by the news agency. The lawsuit names the men who were there in the middle of Hamas' war crimes, and documented, among other crimes, the kidnapping of Shani Lock's raped body, and of Yaffa Adar, a Holocaust survivor.

In London, the anti-Israel crowd projected onto Big Ben messages that UK Jews have repeatedly said endanger them, including calls for the Jewish state to surrender to an antisemitic, genocidal terrorist organization, and the slogan that calls for, at the very least, an ethnic cleansing of Israeli Jews, but one which most Jews understand as genocidal, because if it were to be implemented, it would necessarily include the slaughter of the world's biggest Jewish community. According to one witness, he asked the police if projecting these slogans on Big Ben's tower is legal, was told it wasn't, but the police personnel present still wasn't moved to stop this. At what point is the UK going to wake up, and act as if its Jewish citizens, and their well being, counts?

And since I mentioned that demanding a ceasefire before Hamas has surrendered, is to ask the attacked (the Jewish state) to surrender to the attacker (an antisemitic, genocidal terrorist organization), I also want to remind everyone that allowing Hamas to continue existing, and ruling Gaza, is also BAD FOR PALESTINIANS. As the war goes on, more and more Gazan protests are being held against Hamas. I haven't mentioned them in a while, but this is a good moment to remind everyone that people who REALLY care about Gazans want Hamas destroyed for them, too. Here's newly released footage from a Gaza anti-Hamas demonstration, we're now getting more documentation like this practically daily.

This is 19 years old Nimrod Cohen.

On Oct 7, he was kidnapped to Gaza. His twin sister Romi and his parents have been fighting to have him released. The family says he's so sensitive, they can't imagine how he'd be able to survive captivity, and the kind of constant abuse they'd heard the hostages are undergoing from those already released.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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aylacavebear · 3 months

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What's the Opposite of Healing?

You have the ability to help a soul leave its body and move on, painlessly. So, your services are in high demand when you begin hearing people pray for you. Are you an angel? No. Are you a demon, also, no. You aren’t even a Nephilim. Hell, you aren’t sure what you are. All you know is that one day, in your late twenties, you helped your terminally ill father pass on and then began helping others, hearing odd thoughts that pulled you all throughout the country.

Word Count: 4258

No Pairings. Some familiar faces, though.

Warnings: Death, loss of a loved one, stress, Angst, getting "kidnapped," life threatened. The usual Supernatural stuff.

----------------------------------------- The morning sunlight attempted to shine through the motel room curtains you’d drawn the night before, but not much got through. It was, however, just enough to pull you from sleep. With a grumble, you rolled onto your back and opened your eyes.

How did this become my life?

A sigh left your lips as you forced yourself to sit up, get out of bed, and get dressed. It had been a long night, and now the goal was breakfast and coffee. You packed the few items you had out, grabbed your phone, and headed out to your car with your bag. The brisk October morning air hitting your face definitely helped wake you up. At least your flannel was warm, and it wasn’t quite cold enough for a jacket, yet.

The diner down the road wasn’t busy, not this early, so the service was quick. You did stay for several coffee refills, though, as you needed the caffeine for the drive ahead of you. Since that night, almost two years ago, you started hearing what you could only understand as the pleas of those who were ready to finally leave this world. They just wanted the pain to stop, to be at peace.

You left the waitress a nice tip, then got on the road. You were headed west, toward Kansas. You weren’t quite sure what town yet, but it would come to you the closer you got. Some pleas were stronger than others, even if they were further away. Those were the ones you tended to listen for and pay attention to.

“I don’t want to live for the rest of my short life on all these machines and all these pills. I just want to be at peace. I want to rest and the pain to be gone.”

That was the current plea that kept playing through your mind. You could tell it was an elderly woman, probably in her late eighties. You weren’t sure what she was sick with, but you could relate to her pain. Your father had been in a similar situation, and your heart went out to the woman as a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath.

“I’ll be there in a few hours,” you whispered aloud, wishing somehow you could comfort the woman who was in so much pain.

Parking outside the hospital in Sioux Falls, you took another deep breath. This was the place, and she wasn’t the only one there who was asking for a release from the pain of whatever they were burdened with.

Another long night.

The thought caused a small smile to cross your lips, though. You did enjoy helping these people. It had given you a sense of purpose after your father’s passing. It was the people’s loved ones who were usually just as thankful and grateful as the person who was in pain that always made you cry.

You didn’t check in at any of the nursing stations. Nope. You just walked in as if you knew exactly where you were going. No one stopped you or even tried to speak to you. The woman who had been praying was in a private room, and once you found it, you knocked softly.

“Come in,” an elderly woman’s voice said from the other side.

You could hear the physical pain in her voice when she spoke. Her tone was weaker than the plea that had found its way to you. Slowly, you opened her door, and she smiled at you.

“You came,” she told you, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I did. Have you said your goodbyes?” you asked her softly, sitting in the chair beside her bed.

She reached a hand out to you, which you took gently in yours. She felt so frail, so weak, and all you wanted to do was help ease her suffering.

“I did, but my daughter wants to be here with me,” she replied, that relieved smile still on her lips.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you told her softly, giving her a reassuring smile and gently squeezing her hand.

The woman called the nurse with the call button and then had her retrieve her daughter from the waiting room. When the woman’s daughter entered the room, you took in her demeanor. She looked exhausted like she’d been at the hospital for days with little to no rest. Her long blond hair looked loosely thrown into a ponytail, and it looked as though she hadn’t changed her clothes in a couple of days.

“Mom? Is this her?” the woman’s daughter asked, sitting in the chair on the other side of her mother’s bed.

“Yes. This is my angel come to help me go home to your father,” the woman said with a happy, relieved sigh, reaching her hand out to her daughter.

“I’m gonna miss you, Mom,” the woman’s daughter replied as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I’ll peek in on you, and I’ll always be in your heart,” she told her daughter softly before turning to you. “I’m ready.”

A few tears had also slipped down your cheeks. Watching loved ones say their goodbyes always made you cry. You gave them both a soft smile before standing beside her bed, still holding the woman’s hand. You leaned down and gently kissed the elderly woman on her forehead, closing your eyes. As your eyes closed, so did the elderly woman’s, and in seconds, all the monitors went off as the woman’s soul continued its journey toward heaven to be with her husband. The woman’s daughter looked over at you as you stood up and gently placed the elderly woman’s hand on her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, too happy and yet also grief-stricken to say much more.

“It’s the least I could do,” you whispered back before moving toward the door.

That was when the nurses quickly rushed in, and you slipped out, mostly unseen and unimportant to those who worked there. You wiped away the tears from your eyes as you walked down the hallways of the hospital. There were a few others praying, so you visited each one. It was the last one you visited that hit you the hardest.

A man in his late forties had heart problems mixed with a few other complicating health issues. The life ahead of him was not one he wanted to live nor put his family through. When you stopped to talk to him, he asked for a couple days to get his affairs in order, which you granted and left your number with him. That way, he could call you when he was ready.

You went to the local bar that night, needing more than a drink to get yourself to sleep that night. It was always hard, and you hadn’t really taken a day for yourself in a long time. It was something the man had said that had stuck with you more than anything else. He’d said your wings were beautiful, even if they were as black as midnight. But, I’m not an angel, you thought to yourself as you ordered your third double, barely feeling buzzed. Classic rock played in the background, and numerous patrons drank around the bar. You had tuned it all out, though, still pondering what the man could have possibly meant.

The bartender turned up the volume on the TV above the bar, pulling your attention from your thoughts. It was a news story about the deaths at the hospital, and the elderly woman’s daughter was talking to her. Luckily, all she said was that an angel had come to help her mother move on, and she’d omitted a description of you.

With a sigh, you returned to your drink, finished, and headed to the local motel. You decided to pay for a week as a just in case, since you weren’t sure how long the man would need to get his affairs in order. You grabbed your bag out of your car after parking in front of your room and headed inside. It was a decently nice motel compared to the ones you typically stayed at, which was a relief since you’d be here longer than you had initially planned. With the alcohol in your system, you decided against a shower. So, you stripped down after locking the door, pulling the curtains closed, and passed out for the night.

—-----------

The diner was lovely, with fantastic service. You’d found that out during the first full day in town. Then, there were all the little shops to visit that were locally owned. You even got a couple of articles of new clothes from one of the thrift shops and a nice necklace from one of the antique shops.

It was day three and near lunchtime. So, you were sitting in one of the booths at the diner, having a burger and fries. You’d chosen something comfortable yet warm to wear, a pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt, and had your red flannel pulled over it unbuttoned, but you’d left your long, black hair down, as it kept your ears warmer.

You were halfway through your burger when you noticed a woman approaching your table. She was in a sheriff’s uniform, and your heart began racing. You swallowed the bite in your mouth just as she approached your table.

“Hey there. Jodi Mills. Mind if I ask you a few questions?” she asked you, far friendlier than you thought she’d be.

“I don’t mind. You can sit if you’d like,” you replied, giving her a friendly smile, hoping she couldn’t see just how anxious you really were.

She sat across from you and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Just passing through?” She questioned casually.

“Yes. I’m traveling west on a road trip and needed a few days to recuperate from the drive so far,” you answered, nibbling on a fry.

“Do you have any family or friends here in Sioux Falls?” she asked casually again, which was starting almost to creep you out.

“No,” you replied, a mix of confusion and worry.

“Uh-huh,” was all she said, then gave you a friendly smile, “Well, thanks for your time, and be safe on your journey.”

With that, she got up and headed out of the diner. Your mind was racing with what all that was about. It was clear she was suspicious of you, but she hadn't outright accused you of anything or even asked you direct questions. With your heart pounding, you flagged down the waitress and asked for a to-go box for what was left of your lunch.

Even after you returned to your motel room, inside with the door locked, your nerves were still on edge. You typically never got questioned by the cops, let alone a sheriff, no matter how many people you’d helped in one town. Although, to be fair, that sort of thing had never been on the news before, either.

You debated leaving town, but you had promised the guy you’d help him, and these were promises you always kept. So, when your phone rang and you heard the man’s voice on the other end, you let out a sigh of relief. He was ready. An hour later, you were at the hospital, your belongings packed in your car. He had his dearest family there with him, and it both broke your heart and brought you joy to see the love they had for the man. You had to quickly wipe away the tear that had slipped down your cheek as you approached the side of his bed.

“My angel,” he said with a smile as he looked up at you.

“Are you ready?” you asked him softly.

“Yes,” he replied as a tear of relief escaped his eyes.

You took his hand in yours, then leaned down and kissed his forehead, closing your eyes. His eyes did the same, and a moment later, he was gone, and the machines went off. You straightened up as several tears fell from your eyes. His family that had been there all hugged and thanked you, even after the nurses rushed into the room.

As you headed out of the room and were attempting to dry your eyes, you felt a firm hand on each of your upper arms, and you almost screamed.

“Just keep walking, and we’ll make this quick,” the one to your left told you.

“And don’t try anything funny,” the one to your right added, and you heard the cocking of a gun. “Just keep your eyes in front of you, and don’t make a scene.”

It was the most nerve-wracking experience of your life. Every thought possible went through your head as to what was going to happen to you. Your heart was pounding so hard and fast that you were sure both the men could hear it. Then there was the wringing in your ears that seemed to drown out all other sounds. You were trying not to panic, but that got harder the moment they got you outside and started walking you toward a car.

That was when the fight in you finally kicked in, and you attempted to pull away from the two of them. Too bad they were both far stronger than you and it was a futile effort on your part. They each gripped your arms tighter and practically dragged you to their car.

The taller of the two got into the back seat while the other one held onto both your arms before pretty much shoving you into the back seat. That was when the other one put a pair of handcuffs on you, which he then held onto. He also pulled the gun from inside his jacket and held it against your side.

The other closed the car door and got into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirror so he could watch you while he drove. Then, he started his car and pulled out of the parking lot as if this was normal for the two of them.

“Now, what the hell are you?” the one in the back seat demanded.

It took a moment to process what he’d said. He wasn’t asking for your name. He wanted something else. “I… I don’t understand,” you stammered, terrified.

“Look, Sweetheart. I’m in no mood for games. Just tell us what the hell you are so we can kill you quickly,” the one in the front seat growled.

“What do you mean, what I am? I’m human,” you answered shakily, finally looking into the rearview mirror at the man’s reflection, which you could still mostly make out, even in the dark.

You watched as his gaze went from you to the one next to you in the back seat before he spoke again. “Bobby’ll know what to do with her. Plus, we can lock her in his panic room,” the one driving said.

Tears slipped down your cheeks for the drive, but neither of them spoke again. Not even when they pulled into a scrapyard, or when they were hauling you into the two-story house that was there. That was when a man who would have been near your father’s age spoke up from behind a desk.

“Now what?” the older mand asked grumpily.

“She won’t tell us what she is, and we’re not gonna just let her go. She’s the one that’s been killing people,” the one who had been driving explained to the older man.

The taller of the two had taken you into the living room as the older man looked you over and leaned back in his chair. He looked like he’d seen a lot in his days; his expression showed how deeply he was thinking. Your nerves were still shot, but you kept your mouth shut, at least for now. The older man got up and tossed some water in your face, surprising you, but you shook your head a bit, having no clue what that had been for. Then, the shorter of the two who had grabbed you pulled out a knife and cut your arm.

“Owe, that hurt,” you hissed.

“Well, that eliminates a few things. Time to hit the books, boys,” the older man told them with a sigh, heading to a pile of books. “Put her in the panic room. That devil’s trap isn’t gonna hold her.” He told the two without looking at you or them.

You wanted to protest, beg for them just to let you go, but your mind was in overdrive, as was every nerve in your body. The two of them nearly dragged you down a flight of stairs and shoved you into an iron room. The taller of the two took off the cuffs, at least, but they locked you in. “Scream all you want. No one will hear you,” the shorter of the two said with a smirk, almost like he was enjoying himself.

Their footsteps could soon be heard heading back up the stairs. That’s when you sat down on the cot in the middle of the circular room and just cried. Before long, you’d curled yourself up on the cot and cried yourself to sleep, wondering how the hell you were going to get out of this one.

—-------

The sound of the door opening pulled you from sleep, and you rolled over to see who it was. It was the shorter of the two, but then the taller one came into view. Your whole body hurt from sleeping on the cot, and you groaned slightly as you forced yourself to sit up. Your hair was a mess, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Can I please have some water?” you asked as calmly as you could manage.

“Can you tell us what you are?” the shorter of the two asked, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

“I told you, I’m human,” you replied, a mix of frustration and anxiety.

The shorter of the two threw his arms in the air, utterly frustrated as he turned and walked away, then back up the stairs. The taller one crossed his arms and stared at you from the other side of the doorway. You made no move to escape. You knew there was no point. He’d probably grab you before you even made it out of the room. With a heavy sigh, your gaze fell to the floor. After about a minute, he closed and then latched the door.

It felt like most of the day had passed. You’d walked around the room, looking at everything that was in there. There wasn’t a ton of stuff, but there was enough to tell you that these people were into some bizarre stuff. You did manage to find a couple of books and chose one to read. You pulled the cushion off the cot and set it on the floor against the wall, as that was far more comfortable than attempting to sit on the cot and read.

Sometime later, the older of the three opened the door, pulling your gaze from the book you had been passing the time reading. You noticed a tray in his hand and tilted your head slightly, puzzled but curious. The other two then entered the room after him. You felt the anxiety building again. The three of them were rather intimidating. That was when you noticed a fourth man.

That one was different, and it had nothing to do with his clothes, which was a brown trenchcoat over a simple suit and tie with a white shirt. He had an odd glow to him, and somehow, you understood the question the two had asked you. You wanted to ask this man that very question.

“Alright, Cas. She’s al-.” The shorter of the two from the first night began, but the fourth man was already moving toward you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, squatting in front of you, his piercing blue eyes locked on you deep, dark blue ones.

“Umm…” you began, but tilted your head a bit, “What, uh, are you?” you asked, puzzled by his glow.

“I’m an angel,” he replied in a strange, deep monotone.

“Is that why you have a glow?” you asked, still puzzled but also curious.

“Yes. Now, are you okay?” he asked you again.

“I’m hungry,” you answered, in awe at his revelation of being an angel.

“Cas, can we please get to the point already?” the shorter one grumbled from across the room.

Cas helped you stand before facing the three of them, “She’s an angel of death,” he told them bluntly, and you swore your jaw hit the floor.

“I’m a what?” you asked, in a bit of shock.

“Is she dangerous?” the older one asked, almost worried.

“No. She’s not dangerous,” Cas answered, still standing between you and the three of them.

“Then why was she killing people,” the shorter of the two almost demanded.

“She wasn’t killing anyone. She helped their souls move on peacefully instead of them having to suffer an unfulfilling life,” Cas explained. “They were ready to move on.”

Far too many questions swirled in your head, and you felt a little dizzy. You contributed that to a lack of food, though. The room got fuzzy for a moment as you slowly swayed where you stood. Just before everything went black, someone caught you before you hit the floor.

—-----

It was morning; you could tell that much from the light coming in through the window, even with the curtains drawn. That then puzzled you. The last thing you remembered was being in what they’d called a panic room, which hadn’t had any windows. You rubbed your eyes, sitting up. I’m in a bed, in a room. Am I still at the same house? Was it all a dream? No, definitely not a dream.

You carefully stood up, testing your weight on your legs. Luckily, they weren’t wobbly. Slowly, you made your way out of the room and found the living room, but that was when you stopped. All four of them were there, and they’d gone silent the moment you reached the doorway. It was an awkward silence for you. You weren’t even sure what to do.

Cas came over to you, though. “How are you feeling?” he asked, still in that same monotone from before, but there was a softness in his eyes that was almost comforting.

“Um, I think I feel better,” you replied, still unsure what exactly was going on.

“Come sit down, kid,” the older of the men told you, sounding fairly apologetic.

Cas moved back to where he’d been standing, and you managed to find a seat on the far side of the couch. You fidgeted with a button on your flannel nervously.

“First off, we’re sorry. We had no idea what you were or that you were helping people,” the older man explained, and you heard the sincerity in his tone. “I’m Bobby. That’s Dean and Sam. And that, well, that’s Cas.”

They spent the next almost half hour apologizing and explaining what an Angel of Death was. It made sense. Your mother had died in childbirth, and your ability to help people hadn’t shown itself until your father was ready to pass. You also found out that you had other powers and wings. Plus, those wings worked, and Cas promised to teach you how to use them. He also said he’d help you with your powers.

It was a lot to take in in such a short amount of time. When you asked about how you could be an angel with human parents, that’s when Cas explained it. He started with some weird technical stuff, but you asked him to simplify it. So, he did.

“Your human father said yes to a reaper. So, your grace lay dormant until the time when you were free of your human ties. However, your mother said yes to an angel. The combination is where you come in,” he explained like it was simple math a first-grader would understand.

“Wait. I thought Death was the Angel of Death,” Sam spoke up, sounding confused.

“That is one of his names, yes, but he is not an angel,” Cas stated plainly.

And that was when you got the talk. All four of them explained things or what was really out there that normal people didn’t know about. It was a lot to take in on top of learning about what you were. Their explanations made the book you had read the day before make more sense at least.

“I thought only God could make angels, though,” you mentioned, looking over at Cas, a little confused.

“That is correct. An Angel of Death is special. They have souls where regular angels typically do not,” he told you.

Great, as if my life couldn’t get any more complicated than it already was.

“Kid, you’re welcome to stay with us if you want,” Bobby offered sincerely.

You sighed but gave him a small smile, “Thanks. I might take you up on that, at least for a little while,” you replied gratefully.

And that is how you ended up meeting the Winchester brothers, their surrogate father Bobby, and an angel named Castiel, Cas for short. Your life had gotten turned upside down, but at least now, you had new allies who were willing to take in a wayward soul.

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miryum · 11 days

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"The Cruise"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Y/n was incredibly proud of her outfit. She had scoured all of Gotham’s tackiest stores and invaded their clearance sections, picking out the most obnoxious outfits she could find. Now, standing in the precinct, Y/n was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Her goal was to dress like a suburban dad and she had succeeded. “Okey dokey.” Y/n told Steph, “the car is picking Jason and me up in two minutes. You cool with keeping tabs on my cases while I'm on the cruise?”

Steph nodded. “You bet. I hope you two have a great time. You guys definitely deserve it.”

“I am psyched to go on this week-long cruise, just sitting around doing nothing,” Y/n gushed.

Jason finished talking with Dick when he walked over to Y/n, placing an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You ready to go?” he asked. “I signed us up for ballroom dancing ‘cause it seemed pretty cool. Is that okay?”

Y/n nodded, beaming up at him. “Good-bye, coworkers!” she called. “Or as they like to say at sea… honk! Honk!” She imitated a ship horn, pulling down on an imaginary rope.

An hour or so later, Jason helped Y/n out of the car as she grinned, “this is so great.” The boat they were taking was a majestic thing and both of them were excited to have some time off from work. “Seagulls, check. The ocean, check. A gang of oldies in short shorts, check, check, check.” Y/n grimaced as a pack of elderly people walked past, showing way too much skin for her liking.

“We are definitely on a cruise,” Jason muttered.

As the pair walked up to the ship, an attendant beamed and said in a customer service voice, “Welcome aboard!”

Y/n thanked the attendant before Jason pulled her away to their room. “So I was thinking we could partake in some vigorous activity before relaxing?” He smirked as he pulled open the door.

Y/n hummed and laughed lightly. “Oh, that sounds like a good idea.” She tugged on Jason’s shirt and Jason pulled her towards the bed.

Suddenly, before the couple could continue, an announcement came over the loudspeakers in the hallway. The voice carried into their room and called, “The all-ages piano lounge is now open and serves bottomless margaritas.” Jason and Y/n looked at each other, not impressed. Jason buried his face in Y/n’s neck and began peppering kisses on her skin when the announcement continued and said, “we also serve a drink with a potato skin in it.”

Y/n popped up and exclaimed, “ohh! To the all-ages piano lounge!”

Jason groaned and practically collapsed on her, but couldn’t help but chuckle. He muttered something and pressed a kiss to her jawline before saying, “alright, let’s go.”

Y/n smiled and kissed him lightly. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“Welcome aboard, ladies and gentlemen, but especially ladies,” a man said seductively into a microphone when Y/n and Jason walked hand-in-hand into the piano lounge.

Y/n’s brows furrowed and she mumbled, “I know that voice.”

“Get ready. It's time for some smush songs,” the man said before he started to play the piano.

Y/n gasped dramatically and her head whipped to stare at the man on stage. “Roy Harper! The Red Arrow. He's here.” Jason looked around before finally noticing the man on stage.

From behind the piano, Roy said, “we got songs about smushing, songs for smushing to, songs for the kids. This is the all-ages piano lounge. My daughter loves my songs,” he commented.

“I can't believe he's here! I've been hunting him for years and now fate has dropped him right into my lap,” Y/n cried. “He's gonna be so surprised when he sees me.”

“Hey, L/n, you made it!” Roy called from up on the stage, waving enthusiastically. A spotlight moved to shine on Y/n and Jason. “What took you so long, darling?” Jason sighed and his face deadpanned.

“Okay, seems like he's playing it pretty cool,” Y/n muttered. “He’s probably more surprised on the inside.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle tiredly, knowing that their entire vacation was now to be preoccupied by Roy Harper.

At the end of Roy’s song (Y/n had very patiently waited until his set was over), Y/n and Jason cornered Roy. “L/n, it's no coincidence you're on a ship. You won a free cruise without entering a contest.”

“You did what?!” Jason interrupted.

Roy ignored him. “How do you think that happened?”

“I don't know.” Y/n stuck her tongue out, refusing to be caught in Harper’s trap. “Maybe it's because I bought Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked, and the Internet realised that cruises were one of my interests.”

“Great film,” Roy complimented. “Why does no one acknowledge what great range Matthew Gray Gubler has to go from Criminal Minds to Simon?!”

“Damn straight.” Yn snapped her fingers in appreciation.

“But the tickets are all me,” Roy admitted. “I brought you here 'cause I'm in peril.”

“Pfft. Peril.” Y/n scoffed. Jason wandered away to check out the buffet.

“Don't ‘pfft’ my peril.” Roy wagged his finger, one hand on his hip sassily.

“Pfft,” Y/n repeated.

“Somebody's trying to kill me,” Roy insisted. “I need protection, so I sent for my best friend.”

“I am not your best friend,” Y/n hissed. “I'm your worst enemy. Get that through your head.”

“It's this kind of bickering that makes us such an adorable couple.” Roy held up his hands in a heart.

Jason returned from the buffet, holding a plate piled high with food. He offered a doughnut to Y/n and she took it, kissing him on the cheek before glaring back at Roy. “Whatever, Roy. You're under arrest.”

“You can't arrest me, darling,” Roy raised a brow, smirking. “We're in international waters, which is also why I can smoke as much weed as I want. Welcome to the high seas.” He snickered.

Y/n shook her head. “No, no way that that's true. Jay, tell me I can arrest him right now. I wanna arrest him!” She stamped her foot.

Jason shrugged and said, “Harper’s right. We have no jurisdiction. Technically this boat flies under the flag of Uzbekistan.”

“Uh-oh.” Roy said in a high, breathy voice, holding a theatrical hand up to his mouth. “Your boy knows about the Uzbeks.”

“But the captain can have him arrested,” Jason reassured Y/n. “He has total authority on this boat.”

“Perfect.” Y/n grinned triumphantly. “Captains love me. Just wait until he or she finds out they're employing a criminal.”

Unfortunately, when the trio found the captain on the bridge, the captain said, “Yeah, about forty percent of the crew are criminals. It's hard to find normal people who want to live on a boat. I, myself, am a tax evader.”

Jason raised a brow and Roy said, “yeah, if there’s anyone to use the fluffy pink handcuffs on, it’s him. Not Y/n/n. Or me.” Roy winked at Jason. Jason shot back an unimpressed look.

“I just need him locked up till we get back to Gotham,” Y/n pleaded. “Can't you just throw him in boat jail?”

Both the captain and Jason said, “It's called the brig.”

“How do you know so much about boats?” Y/n whispered to Jason.

“Roy’s my best lounge singer, and I need to keep people distracted,” the capitan defended. “Just between us, we're nearly out of ranch dressing.”

“On day one?”

“These people are animals. Listen, as long as he's on my boat, Roy Harper is a free man.”

Y/n had to resist punching the man.

“Jaybird, Y/n, welcome to my cabin, aka the Boom-Boom Stateroom.” Roy opened a cabin door with a flourish to reveal a grande suite. The large bed was covered in rose petals, ambient music was playing in the background and there was a full jacuzzi in the bathroom.

Jason’s lips parted and he had to admit that he was impressed. “This is a royale level suite,” he said. “This is for first-classers only.”

“Little perk of being Carousel Cruises' entertainer of the year,” Roy boasted. “You're welcome to chill here. It's the least I can do to thank you for protecting me.”

“Never.” Y/n poked him in the chest. “This protection scam is a scam. Do you honestly think you can fool me again just because you've successfully done it numerous times before?”

“My old boss wants me dead,” Roy protested. “I've been laying low on this ship with Lian, but I got word from a friend that they found me. I got Lois to take Lian in for a couple weeks since there's a hitman coming to end my beautiful life. That's why I sent you the free tickets.”

“No! No, no way. I'm not buying it. You can't get away from me again. Jason and I are gonna spend every second of our romantic cruise watching you.” She looked back at Jason and hesitated. “Assuming that’s okay?”

Jason was starting to think that Y/n had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with the Red Arrow. But if it was important to her, then he would go along with it. “Yep. That's what we're gonna do.” He flopped down on the bed, hoping that this thing with Roy would wrap up so he could spend some time with his girlfriend.

“We have to find the hitman before he finds me. I'm guessing this'll take us all over the boat. That's an ENAC sitch right there. That’s ‘Every Nook And Cranny.’”

“Okay, so where's this hitman, Harper?” Y/n sighed.

“Look, I don't know who they sent, but he's on the boat.” Roy pulled out a sheet of paper. “Check out this manifest. Somebody boarded in New York named Henry Coles.”

“Henry Street and Coles Street, that's the corner of your old chop shop in Gotham,” Y/n said immediately. “It’s an alias.”

“My porter buddy checked out Henry Coles' cabin,” Roy continued. “He hasn't been in it yet. He's hiding somewhere on this boat ready to jump out and kill me at any moment. Probably creepin' around in my closet.”

“Or stowed away in a lifeboat,” Y/n murmured.

“Or hiding in a wall,” Roy added.

“Or holed up in the engine room,” Y/n grinned.

“Camouflaged in the shrubbery,” Roy snickered.

The two of them pointed at each other and said, “predator style.”

Y/n then remembered her place and groaned. “No. We are not having fun. You will not suck me in with your wily charms.”

Later that day, Jason had convinced Y/n to go to the exhibits on the cruise ship. “Oh, this ship was a transporter during World War two,” he oohed. “Did you know that they actually had to turn the barracks into another medical office because there were so many injured soldiers? The ship got shot at multiple times and sustained damage to the hull, it it’s still operational. It was bought by this cruise company thirteen years ago.” Y/n hummed along. Usually, she would be fascinated by this (or at least pretend to be fascinated), but her gaze was currently focused on Roy Harper. “Oh, and the ship fought in four battles. I wonder what types of weapons were used…” He glanced at Y/n, but seeing that she was more focused on Roy, he sighed and trudged away to explore on his own.

“Hey, little advice,” Roy called from where he was standing. “Jason is great. If you want to keep him, you may wanna be more receptive to his interests.”

“Now you're taking it too far, Harper.” Y/n shook her head and scoffed. “I don't need relationship advice from my criminal archnemesis.”

Roy held up his hands in mock defence. “I just want to see you two happy.”

“No. This is just another one of your lies, just like your fake hitman.”

“There is a hitman on this boat!” Roy sighed in exasperation. “Henry Coles is coming to kill me.”

“Excuse me?” An old man turned around, his voice wavering.

“What?”

“You said my name,” the old man smiled kindly. “I'm Henry Coles.”

“You're Henry Coles?” Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide.

“According to my medical alert bracelet.” The man nodded and tapped his medical bracelet. The old man stared down at his bracelet, confused for a moment, as if he was checking to see if he really was Henry Coles.

“Well, this is interesting.” Y/n exaggerated her words as she skipped over to the old man. “This is Henry Coles! Let's just take a look at that.” She took the old man’s wrist, briefly checking it before saying, “Oh, it says, ‘Roy Harper is a liar.’”

“Actually, it says I'm a fall risk,” the man corrected.

“Okay, you're kind of ruining my burn here, Henry,” Y/n whispered. Henry Coles shuffled away and Y/n turned towards Roy, victorious. “I knew it. I knew Henry Coles was a ninety-year old man with type one diabetes and emphysema. Obviously, I didn't know those specifics, but I knew you were lying.”

Roy frowned and crossed his arms. “So Henry Coles wasn't the guy. My bad. There's still somebody on this boat who wants to kill me!”

“You're trying to get away, and it's not gonna happen. We're spending the rest of this trip in your cabin.” Jason found his way back to Y/n and wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his head on her hair and sighed, feeling more relaxed when he inhaled her scent. “Jason and I will take sleep shifts to make sure someone's always watching you.”

“Thank you. That makes me feel super safe,” Roy said. They started back towards the Boom-Boom Stateroom. Y/n took Jason’s hand. Roy grinned and casually said, “And if you want to smush, I have a sleep mask and noise cancelling headphones.”

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. “Can't we just lock him up in there? Do we really have to trade off sleep for the next six nights?”

Y/n took a breath and said softly, “I know. I'm sorry.”

Jason bit the inside of his cheek and muttered, “fine. I get it. He's the Red Arrow.” In a tense voice, he said, “You take the first shift.”

“Thank you so much!” Y/n cupped Jason’s cheek. “You're the best. I lo-” Y/n was cut off by the shattering of mirror glass and the banging open of the room closet. A man barrelled into the room and tackled Roy. Y/n tensed up and tugged the man off of Roy. “Hey, GCPD! Let him go!”

The man punched Y/n and Jason practically growled. Jason wrenched the man off of Y/n and threw him to the floor. The man scampered to his feet and ran out of the room.

Roy stood up and ran an irritated hand through his hair. “Now do you believe me? That guy was trying to kill me!”

“Alright, fine! Someone wants you dead!” Y/n threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “You win.”

“Well, thank god you were there, L/n. I knew you wouldn't let your best friend die.”

“I'm still gonna arrest you.” Y/n grumbled, “I just can't do that if you're dead.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself,” Roy chuckled. “Baby steps.” Roy nudged Jason and tsked as if sharing a secret, “it's hard getting her out of her shell.”

Jason sighed and crossed his arms. “Tell me about it. Every time we get emotional, she deflects it. I know it has to do with her childhood, but-”

“Okay, can we focus up here?” Y/n interrupted, shooting both men a nasty glare. “We still don't know what your hitman looks like, so we're gonna have to flush him out. Wait a minute. Where do the toilets on this boat go?”

“You don't want to know.” Roy shook his head.

“The pool?” Y/n asked, aghast.

“Ocean.”

“Oh, that's even worse. That's where my shrimpies live.”

“He'll probably try to hit me at my show this afternoon. At least I'll die doing what I love: getting people horny at sea.” Roy placed a hand over his heart.

“Yeah. Yeah. That's gross,” Jason grumbled.

“Alright, here's the plan. We're gonna leave you alone on stage and dangle you as bait,” Y/n said.

“Damn! Bait dangling?” Roy clicked his tongue, feeling the burn.

“If we're up on stage with you, it could spook him,” Y/n explained. “We'll blend into the crowd, and we'll take him down before he even gets to you.”

“But if you're gonna blend in, you got to blend in.”

Jason held out an arm to Y/n and she took it, beaming up at him. Both of them were in ugly neon shirts and thick white sneakers. “Shall we?” Jason asked in a posh accent..

“Ladies and gentlemen, widows and widowers,” Roy whispered into the microphone. “Welcome to the all-ages piano lounge adults only show. This is a little song I wrote myself, called Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassandra.” Y/n snickered before Roy sang, “Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassandra!”

“It's so crowded in here, and the lighting is way too sexy to see anything,” Y/n whispered to Jason.

Just then, Roy started singing, “Right there on the floor… Is the man you're looking for…” Y/n and Jason looked around, confused. “He's right in front of you… A little bit to the left… My left, my left, my left, my left,” Roy corrected the couple and Jason and Y/n shuffled to the correct direction. “Come on this way… He's in a red shirt… No, not the Asian dude… I'm talking about a bright red shirt…” Roy grinned and crooned, “That's the man you're looking for… That's the man you've been looking for!”

“I got him. Follow me,” Jason muttered before losing sigh of the man. “Ah, come on.”

“This is still a love song,” Roy serenaded.

“Where'd he go?” Y/n frowned, looking around.

Roy announced loudly, “Well, that ends my show, all of a sudden. You've been a great crowd. Thank you very much.” Both Y/n and Jason looked up to the stage where Roy was being led away by another man who was holding a knife to Roy’s neck.

Y/n and Jason exchanged a look before running after Roy. They followed him to a narrow hallway behind the stage. “Y/n/n, help me. I don't want to die,” Roy whimpered. “Lian needs me…”

Y/n’s eyes flashed with loyalty and fear. “Okay, just put the knife down,” she instructed the hitman. “There's no murder in the all-ages piano lounge.”

“Screw you, slut,” the hitman spat.

“That’s not a very all-ages thing to say.” Jason’s jaw twitched and he stepped towards the hitman.

The hitman shoved Roy aside and lunged at Jason. Jason easily wrestled the man to the floor and secured the hitman’s hands together with an electrical cord that Y/n threw him.

After Y/n checked up on Jason and ensured he was okay, she called out, “you okay, Roy?”

A door slams from behind him and Y/n’s whirled around. “No. No, no, no, no, no,” she whimpered. She ran to the railing of the ship, whiplashing from the sudden stop. Jason bolted up behind her and placed a steading hand in her back. Roy Harper waved up at the pair from a small lifeboat. “Bye, L/n! Thanks for saving my life!”

“No. Roy! Don't do this!” Y/n cried. “No, not again!”

“Sorry to do this to you, darling,” Roy called through a bullhorn. “I saw an opening, and I had to take it. I can't go to jail. I'm too cool. Also, who will take care of Lian?”

“You'll never get away from me, Harper!” Y/n’s fists clenched around the ship’s railing.

“I can't hear what you're saying.” Roy put a hand up to his ear. “You're really far away. I'll just assume you're finally admitting we're best friends.”

“That is not what I'm saying!” Y/n insisted.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me!” Roy grinned and said, “enjoy the rest of your cruise. Just remember, you got a fine man. Check your pockets!” Jason pulled out a key card from his pocket and Roy announced, “Boom-Boom Stateroom, baby!”

“Thank you, but this isn't over!” Y/n screamed. “I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!”

“I love you too!” Roy blew her a kiss. “I'm so proud of us for being able to say it. What are you still standing there for? Go smush!”

“Roy! No!”

A couple hours later, Y/n and Jason were laying in bed, tuckered out from the day’s activities. Y/n mumbled into space, “if the toilets drain into the ocean, does that mean a tiny shark could swim up and bite me in the butt?”

“No, not at all,” Jason muttered back.

“Lame.” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Look.” Jason rolled over on his side to look at Y/n. “I know you're bummed about the Red Arrow so if it's any consolation, we could spend the rest of the cruise doing absolutely nothing.”

“That is so incredibly sweet, but no way,” Y/n smiled softly, gazing over at Jason with soft vulnerability and care in her eyes. “We have a pretty cool activity to do.” She laughed lightly and said, “you'll never guess what starts in three minutes.”

“Ballroom dancing!”

“Oh, so you can guess.”

Three minutes later, Jason held Y/n in his arms and murmured, “thank you for doing this.” He took a breath and admitted, “I love you.”

Y/n stared up at him with wide, scared eyes. “Noice. Smort,” she swallowed roughly. Jason’s eyes flickered downward and his expression revealed a layer of quiet sadness. Y/n took a breath and gathered her courage. “I love you too,” she whispered. Jason stared at her, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes full of unbelievable love and warmth. After a beat, Y/n muttered, “also, I think this is definitely a dance class for widows.” The two glanced around to see an old lady waving suggestively at Jason. Jason groaned loudly and bent down to bury his face in Y/n’s neck, a blushing embarrassment on his face.

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #b99/dcu #slow burn

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