#HOW DID I CALL THAT SHIT TEN+ FUCKING YEARS AGO?!!!!
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Sooo... I just watched the new Gundam SEED movie, and I'd like to regale you all with a story.
You see, somewhere between ten and fifteen years ago, I can't recall precisely when, I made a theory entry on the TvTropes Wild-Mass Guessing page for Gundam Seed, concerning one Lacus Clyne.
For some context, Seed holds special distinction as the show that really got me into Gundam. It wasn't my first ever Gundam, that honor goes to the venerable Mobile Fighter G-Gundam, but it was first Gundam I really got into as a fan, and from there the rest of the franchise followed.
Now this theory came about as I had recently noticed some... odd little details about Lacus at certain points. Namely that she seemed to be able to sense certain people in a very TELLING way. Specifically, during the final battle of the original Seed, when Rau Le Creuset attacks the Eternal, Lacus makes a curious comment of "What is that...?", the same question MU and KIRA previously asked when 'sensing' Rau with their not-Newtype powers. Essentially implying that Lacus is somehow also able to 'sense' Le Creuset.
And then later in Destiny, Lacus happens to do this again, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment where she seems to 'sense' Kira's approach and presence right before he arrives in the Strike Rouge to protect the Eternal.
Now the funny thing is, across both SEED and Destiny it appeared that the only people to exhibit these not-Newtype psychic powers were those connected with the vague and mysterious so-called 'Ultimate Coordinator Project' that apparently created Kira; Mu, Rau, Kira himself, and later Rey Za Burrel in Destiny.
So with that in mind, the conclusion I drew was that the shows were implying that Lacus was somehow ALSO connected to this project, perhaps even being another so-called 'Ultimate Coordinator' just like Kira. For one, she seems to have all of the same stranger traits that Kira himself has, namely again those 'not-newtype' senses, and even the even more vague and mysterious 'SEED Mode'.
Thusly I made the theory entry on the TvTropes page with all the evidence I had.
And over the next ten years, this theory drifted completely from my awareness along with my interest in SEED as a whole. Mostly due to realizing that other Gundam shows were actually a lot better than Seed.
Up until tonight, when I was reminded of my theory during my viewing of Gundam SEED Freedom.
Specifically when the movie revealed that somehow, my theory from 10+ years ago was actually FUCKING RIGHT on the GODDAMN MONEY.
Needless to say, I think my reaction to this earned me a few dirty looks in the theater.
Oh, and the movie was... alright.
VERY fanficcy. In the good AND bad way.
#gundam#gundam seed#gundam seed freedom#lacus clyne#rambling#mildly unhinged rambling#HOW DID I CALL THAT SHIT TEN+ FUCKING YEARS AGO?!!!!
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not to be a colossal fucking cowabummer about everything but it really does suck that like. my really chill and like. supposedly more realistic type of career goal feels about as unattainable as like a kid saying he wants to be a singer or something
#kazoo noises#like yeah this was supposed to be a job i COULD get. i thought bc like. i was going into the field bc i loved the work and not bc i couldnt#make it into academia (fuck u alt-ac term users yall are snobs) id like maybe be able to cobble it together bc like. im good at doing work.#i can usually make something happen and i got a good attitude. but jesus ive got one year left and every job app comes back negative if the#even bother to respond#like idk man. i knew iwasnt gonna be making money or shit and i knew it was gonna be rough but like. everyone else i meet already has a gig#or at least like gig adjacent. volunteer or field experience or internship and like. i cant get anything to stick. its not like ive done#nothing either? ive worked extensively with small scale exhibition design. i have worked extensively with special collections libraries.#i have literal years worth of research experience from college. i have an entirely customer service based resume thats not academic so i#can handle a patron (and crucially different from my peers: I WANT TO)#i can organize. i can write and design labels. i can communicate. i can handle special collections objects. i can make ANY microfilm reader#work for me even when it doesnt want to#and im not saying my classmates arent qualified. but like. surely this has to amount to something. i have been so stupidly lucky#to have even half the experiences i do. i have variety in my degree that even some of my classmates would kill for i think. i did. so much.#i have had so many advantages and i like to think i use them well and that i am grateful for them. but why cant i make that shit connect???#my resume is good. im reliable. i want to work more than anything. so why cant i get a call back???#legitimately how much longer do i get to keep telling myself i a not the common denominator here#sorry for diary posting but im prepping to walk to the house tour and planning what job apps i can fill out when i get back and literally.#just like. why do i bother. i should have just held my nose and done the online only program in state. i'd probably spend less time rotting#god being 23 fucking sucks. it is going to be better. im literally just barely an adult. this cant be it and it wont be it. but jesus. i go#over having to beg for a rejection letter about ten months ago when i still felt like i had a shot at these experiences
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Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University
Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D
Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model
Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.
Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it
Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-
Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)
Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything
Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did
“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway
Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work
Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.
Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY
Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*
Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him
Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)
Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew
Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.
Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once
Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving
Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam
Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.
Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone
Makes a murder wall
Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people
Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*
Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time
Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad
Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*
Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM
Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)
Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*
Wears a suit to one of his finals
Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has
Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion
Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom
Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct
Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons
Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*
Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those
Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that
Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which
Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?
Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times
Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)
Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*
Okay that's all love you BYE
#cryptid Bruce Wayne#college au#does this count if op is the au#fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism#bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS#Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down#yes i am insane thank you for asking#originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson#bruce wayne#batman#the batman 2022#batman 2022#the batman#battinson needs a hug#dc universe#gotham#autistic bruce wayne
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Pleek danny i am begging for dilf nanamin who cant so much as make small talk with Ijichi's son reader without wanting to grab the reader and bend him over the nearest object,,,, huuhdhjdjsh for kinks,,,,,, sir kink, impact play, brat taming,,,, also ftm reader bcs yk <3
ఌ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
꧁ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙭 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂
w.c. › 7.1k
Warnings › reader is kinda ditzy. But also unintentionally bratty and kinda crazy. Age difference, obvs. Plot… again—Femboy-ish reader in the fact some of his clothes are more feminine. Slight transphobia but nothing terrible, just two people who suck ass. Slow-ish slow burn like the Toji fic… also just start fucking randomly
Kinks › use of pussy/cunt/feminine terms, sir kink, impact play, brat taming. Reader is called good boy.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
“Excuse my son, I need to drive him to his performance.”
“Hiii~!”
You wave at the man who gets into your dad’s car. You didn’t know what type of job he did actually. He told you, ‘driver’ and that was it. So you never thought to actually question it. Though, seeing the people he usually drives… you’re starting to think he’s a mafia’s getaway driver.
This guy looked to be a bit younger than your dad, though certainly older than you. Blonde hair that was previously slicked back and now a bit messy. He sat in the passenger seat and was looking at his phone, texting someone.
When he was walking up to the car earlier, you were pretty sure he was holding a butcher knife.. but it was dark so you decided to think you were over thinking it.
You sat in the back seat, watching the street lights fade past as your dad practically speeds down to the place you were performing today.
You played the piano. Not as a job, just as something for extra cash as a college student. It helped a lot—but it was hard to find jobs in the area, most were so far that you had to have Ijichi drive you.
The car came to a halt once Ijichi reached the house you were playing at. Some rich function happening. It didn’t matter, as long as it payed well.
“Thanks, Dad. Bye, Blondie.” You said, not waiting for any type of response as you stepped out. But much to your confusion, your dad and blondie got out of the car. Though they didn’t seem to be going towards the house you were. Just looking at the abandoned building a few blocks down.
Huh… maybe your dad really is in the yakuza business.
Shit, why didn’t that pay well?
You pushed back any curiosity to see what they were up to and walk inside the house. The performance, like always, was easy. You chose the fanciest but easiest pieces to play on the piano. It was hard doing it for hours straight with only ten minutes breaks between.
It was around two hours at the party, that your phone started ringing. You tried to ignore it, wanting to finish the piece you were playing. It was going well until the sound of something collapsing outside caught the guests attention. You heard screaming and yelling as everyone was moving around in a frenzy.
But you stayed put, knowing that if you stood up, you’d get trampled. Everyone was acting too frantic for your liking. Once there was a few people left, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the home, staring right at what looked to be a building collapsed onto itself.
It was the building Blondie and your dad was looking at. It confused you as there was a crowd of people running to their fancy cars and speeding away for safety. No one called the police —all too focused on their own lives. You stepped forward, towards the street to the now collapsed building. It was old.. but how did it just break down like that? That’s not normal. Did something push into it?
“Ijichi.”
A hand grabbed your shoulder. You shrieked and began to flail your arms around.
“Unhand me, troglodyte!!! I took taekwondo four years ago! I.. remember something!!”
“Calm down. Your father is just looking for you.”
You flinched when the hand moved to grab one of your arms, effortlessly stopping your failed attempt of taekwondo. You glanced up to see Blondie, his eyebrows furrowed while there was a small little cut on his cheek. Huh, was that always there? His clothes looked dusty, as if he was rolling around in dirt.
Was he in the building before it collapsed?
“Oh, Blondie—!”
“—Nanami.”
“That’s what I said. What happened to that building? It just fell.”
Blondie—Nanami hummed. “Old buildings can fall apart after a few years of being unkept.”
“Uh… okay.” You muttered, weirded out by his answer but decided that would be enough. “Where’s Dad?”
“The car.” Nanami nodded towards your father’s car that was parked farther away from everything. You saw your father leaning against the car, his arm looking a bit.. mangled to say the least. Feeling a sense of panic, you sprinted over there and came to stop once you got a clear picture of what happened to him.
His arm looked as if it was purposely twisted into an uncomfortable position. Ijichi gave you a tight smile, obviously taken from the pain. He used his free hand to lightly pat your head.
“What… happened?” You whispered, glancing over at Nanami as he walked over. You felt an odd sensation of protection as you quickly stood between him and your father, glaring at Nanami with a tint of suspicion.
Nanami raised an eyebrow, obviously confused on why he was being suspected as a the culprit. It was odd because he was obviously hurt as well—though to a lesser extent. The cut on his cheek wasn’t the only one as there was on his forearm that was actually still bleeding through the light bandage that was used from his sleeve.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Ijichi muttered. “Did you get paid?”
“Oh.. no. I forgot to ask for money—don’t know if she’ll pay me now though.”
“Well—as you can see, (Name), I’m badly hurt. I’ll need to go get this checked out.”
“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. “I’ll drive you. I’ve been getting better.”
“No—I need you to do me a favor.” Ijichi glanced over at Nanami before leaning in close to you. “I’m sure you know I’m not just a driver at this point—but for your safety I can’t say too much.”
You gasped, dramatically putting a hand over your lips. “No…. You’re a Yakuza member?!”
Ijichi stared at you as if you were crazy. “What—? Anyway, I’ll need you to stay at Nanami’s for a few weeks. Just so I can get better at the hospital.”
“Blondie?”
“Nanami.” Nanami cut in.
“That’s what I said,” you rolled your eyes. “Why? I can stay at the house alone.”
“It’s not safe. Someone…” Ijichi paused, as if he was wondering how much he should actually tell you. “It’s just not safe. We don’t know if he’d go after you. It’s safer to stay with a sorcerer—uh.”
You blinked. “Sorcerer? Right…” You grinned, thinking your dad was just trying to be subtle about his connection to the Yakuza. “Of course. Dangerous… gang leaders and all the like.”
Ijichi simply sighed. “Yes, sure. It will only be three to four weeks maximum. I’ll be healed by then. Nanami will drive me to the hospital and then he’ll take you home so you can pack a bag, okay?”
“Fine. Doesn’t seem like I have a choice,” you whined, pouting.
“Yes, you didn’t.” Ijichi said. He used his free hand and opened the door to passenger side of the car. You sat in the back once more while Nanami went to the driver side. As he drove, you couldn’t help but glance back at the collapsed building. While Yakuza were dangerous—you haven’t seen them collapse a building before. That’d just draw too much attention to them.
At the very least, you hoped Nanami lived close to your university. It was tiring having to rely on your dad’s car to get places since you lived on the outskirts of the city. But there was an aching feeling in your stomach. How.. did your dad’s arm twist like that? Will it actually be able to be fixed?
Right before you tore your eyes away from the building, you saw the flicker of red eyes.
𖥸
Blondie’s place was actually pretty nice. It was a nice little apartment—decorated decently. Though it was obviously done by an older man. You felt odd being in a stranger’s place but you trusted your father’s judgement so you didn’t complain a lot. At least verbally.
The apartment was on the sixth floor, with nice glass windows in the living room giving you a nice gaze into the city. The building lights kept the room bright even before Blondie turned on the lights. You checked the bag you were carrying, making sure you had your shots. Blondie was carrying the heavier bags—you had practically forced him to.
Just a couple of pouts and blinks with your long eyelashes got him carrying them.
“I have a spare bedroom that you’ll stay in. There’s no attached bathroom.” He said. He walked over to a hallway that had three doors. The left was the bathroom. The right was your new bedroom and the center is obviously Nanami’s room.
As he opened the door, the room was less decorated than the rest. But that made sense—no one would be in this room often. The room didn’t look too small—a queen size bed in the middle and a singular night stand to accompany it.
A small dresser in front of the wall facing the bed—and…
A tv that had a crack on the right side of it. Blondie noticed your shocked face as he placed your bags on the bed. “The movers dropped it.” He simply said.
“Eh. Does it still work?” You muttered, grabbing the remote that rested on the nightstand. You turned it on and what played was cartoons—but in English.
“Somehow it’s stuck on Australian cartoons. I can’t change it, it was bought second hand.” He said. He grabbed the remote and seemed to try again and see what was wrong with the settings. You wondered how he could understand the English but didn’t ask. He must’ve studied English or something.
Nanami hummed as he gave you back the remote. “You can still at least flip through the channels. A few have Japanese subtitles.” Was all he said as he left the room. You glanced over at him as he closed the door behind himself.
Huh. That was abrupt.
You placed your bag on the floor and decided to just unpack everything into the small closet. It was weird to be staying at a man’s place you literally met today but if your dad trusted him, you’d “trust” him too. But at the thought of your dad, you kept thinking of his arm. The mangled arm that couldn’t possibly be fixed. But he seemed so sure.
You knew your dad treated you a bit childish compared to adults your age with their parents. It was okay when you were a kid but ever since you started transitioning it has gotten worse. But you knew why. He just wanted to protect you… It was evident in him not trusting to allow you stay home alone.
The light clink of syringes caught your attention when you accidentally jostled your bag. You took out one syringe and one of the small bottle. It took forever for you to even get the option to take testosterone. As you prepped yourself for your shot, you thought back to the red eyes. Did you imagine that?
Did you actually see that…? Or was your eyes playing tricks on you?
As you packaged the dirty syringe into a plastic bag, ready to be disposed of, there was a knock on the door. The door opened and Blondie was holding a bowl of noodles. He placed them on the nightstand.
“I would’ve made you a proper meal.” He said, vaguely pointing to his properly bandaged arm. “But I need to be careful. When you’re finished, put the bowl in the sink. Good night.”
Then he left. Again.
Gosh, why was he so abrupt when it came to his goodbyes?
The ramen was okay. It’s as good as gas station ramen is gonna be. As you placed the bowl in the sink, you walked past the living room to reach your room when you passed by a photo. The photo was inside a glass cabinet—connected to the small piece framing around the tv. You leaned in close, wanting to see who it was.
It looked to be a much younger Nanami.
Oh wow—was he emo? You laughed to yourself at his haircut. Next to him was a girl, a guy with white hair—strange, and a guy with black hair.
Wow, another emo.
You noticed someone next to Nanami, on his left.
A guy with brown hair. He looked cute—he had a wide smile. Cute.
You hummed. Their uniform looked kinda weird. Nothing close to what you wore in high school. Hm, were they also about in the Yakuza?
Do the Yakuza hire young people?
As you thought deeply on your “profound” question, you pulled away from the cabinet. Well, it wasn’t much of your concern. If you were lucky, Blondie didn’t work for the Yakuza anymore. With a huff, you walked back to your room and went to sleep for the night.
𖥸
“Blondie?”
He wasn’t there. You checked around the apartment the next morning, wanting to simply talk—mainly ask him to make you some breakfast—but he wasn’t there. Or anywhere for that matter. You plopped down into the couch and checked your phone, pouting to yourself as your thumb hovered over your father’s contact.
“She’s always in your shadow! Why did you raise her like that?!”
“Don’t speak about my son like that! You were the one who decided to not raise him, it’s not (Name)’s fault he doesn’t want to go to you.”
“Him, him, him! It’s time you stop allowing this nonsense to continue, Ijichi.”
“Whose last name does he have? Ijichi (Name)! I’ll be the one to raise my son how I see fit.”
“Fine! Continue letting ‘him’ play dress up! When that child of yours is still living in your home while giving you no grandchildren, don’t cry about how you wished you had a normal daughter!”
“Ijichi.”
You gasped, looking up as you saw Blondie staring down at you. Your eyes felt blurry—you couldn’t really see him. Blondie kneeled down, removing your glasses as he handed you a handkerchief. It was soft in your hand, as you lightly dabbed it under your eyes before full on using it to stop your tears. You didn’t even know what happened.
You didn’t want to think about her.
That woman who carried you for nine months.
Gosh, you hated her.
But she still brought you to tears so easily.
“Th…anks… Blondie.” You whispered.
“Nanami.”
“That’s what I said.”
Blondie didn’t seem to care about why you were crying. Or at the very least, was being respectful in not asking. He was still a stranger. You continued to wipe away your tears, silently grateful he was back from wherever he left off to.
“Where’d… You go?”
“Store. I was missing a few things to make breakfast.”
You glanced over to the kitchen and indeed saw him preparing something. When did he even get back? Were you that deep into your trauma flashback that you didn’t hear him? You felt your cheeks flush hot. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. As you began rubbing a bit harder to try and lessen your puffy red eyes—your phone began to ring.
With speed you’d question back at, you checked to see who was calling.
It wasn’t your father.
Shit, it was just some guy you had in your class. The damn leech when it came to your recent project you were doing for history.
He didn’t want to do anything and embarrassingly enough, you were doing everything at this point.
You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and sighed, draping the handkerchief over your eyes as you leaned back onto the couch. You’d speak to him tomorrow. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the room as you slowly drifted off to a comfortable nap.
It always felt good to sleep after a cry.
When you woke up, it was dark out. Shit. You glanced around the living room—noticing you had a blanket on you. As you folded the blanket back and rested it on the couch, you walked to the kitchen. You opened the fridge and saw the food Blonde was probably making. It looked to just be an omelette.
Good enough.
After microwaving and sitting down back at the couch to eat you briefly wondered where Nanami could’ve went.
Ah.
Yakuza, probably.
𖥸
“Ijichi, why didn’t you answer my phone call?”
You sighed as you were roughly grabbed by your infamous slacker. You stared at him with no intention to really speak to him—just let him rant about how “you’re not listening to him” or “why do you hate him?” Whatever bullshit he comes up with.
“I’m trying to help with this project, really,” he begins and then just blabbers on.
You don’t pay attention. It goes on for maybe a few minutes until you see a crowd of people leaving their classroom. Perfect. You pushed slacker’s hands off of you and seamlessly phased into the group of people walking away.
It’s only been about two days but it felt like years since you’ve seen your dad.
Huh.
Maybe she was right about—
You shake your head. Fuck that lady! She’s burnt flesh now anyway.
As you walk away from your university, you came face to face with a dilemma. You don’t know where Nanami’s apartment is—you kinda just left on auto pilot to not miss class. And shocker, you never got his number to call him.
Well shit.
You aimlessly walked around the city for a bit, just enjoying the nice day. The sunlight shined down onto you as you giggled a bit. Hm, the sun is nice. You decided to just text your dad for Nanami’s phone number. So while you waited for him to answer your text—you stopped by a nearby cafe for some coffee.
Right when you left the cafe, you noticed something weird.
Red eyes just staring at you—right from across the street. Inside a building that looked to be abandoned. Wow, when did Japan have so many abandoned buildings. You instinctively stepped forward, trying to see if this was just something you were seeing by chance.
You used the cross walk to go across the street, getting face to face with the building. But the eyes were gone. You hummed, starting to believe maybe you were going through it. This is perhaps the longest you’ve gone no contact with your dad—you’re probably just worried. Especially with the injury you saw him with.
A mangled arm.
Anyone would be reeked with worry.
As you pulled out your phone to check if your dad answered you yet, you felt yourself freeze. There was someone watching you. No… something.
You glanced up, looking into one of the building’s window and gasped in shock at the sight of what you were seeing. It wasn’t human. And it looked like a huge centipede, staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. You booked it, immediately.
Your legs burn from running but you didn’t stop. You kept going and going until you felt a bit safe in a public area. Just… what the hell was that? When did centipedes get so big? And it was looking at you so hungrily?! What the hell?! With your thoughts focused solely on your new discovery of big centipedes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.
You shrieked, ready to fight but sighed seeing it was just the slacker.
“Ijichi, man, the fuck are you avoiding me for? I’m seriously trying to get a good grade here! If I fail…”
You tune him out again. Wondering how the fuck he was able to find you. His grip was tight around your arm before it slowly slid to your back. You slightly paid attention to what the hell he think he was doing touching you so much until you felt his hand slightly slide down your waist.
“What in—”
“—look, if the reason you’re just ignoring me because you’re scared about what you really are, most people practically know and don’t care. I don’t care about that queer stuff!”
You blinked at him, wondering how he went from zero to a hundred. You didn’t care that people could probably tell you were trans so long as they didn’t bother you. But now you were about pissed off this guy was making you do more work for this damn project and now making it seem like it was your fault—not his inability to work.
“Listen here, Slacker—”
But you didn’t have to say much when he was pulled off of you. You grinned. “Oh! Great.” Slacker fell to the ground and looked up—you did the same, looking to see who was your savior of the day.
Oh.
Just Blondie.
“Oh, Blondie. I was looking for your apartment, I also need your phone number.” You said, smiling softly, forgetting all about the slacker on the floor. Blondie simply hummed as he grabbed your arm and began guiding you to his place, leaving slacker on the floor yelling after you.
Which was… two blocks from where you were standing.
Oh wow. Definitely made sense in why you got to your university so quick. Blondie’s apartment was just ten minutes away. Ahah… embarrassing.
Once inside the apartment, Blondie seemed set on ignoring you again. Which seemed to be all he was doing these few days you stayed here. But you didn’t know why. You huffed to yourself, pouting as you dropped your bag on the floor and plopped down onto the couch, ready to watch some tv.
“Blondie~!” You sang, grinning lightly. “You’re in the kitchen still, right? Can you get me something to eat? Please~?”
You didn’t get a reply back. You briefly wondered if he wasn’t going to do it so you moved to sit up but was proven wrong when Blondie gave you a turkey sandwich. You quickly took the plate and began eating, humming after having not eaten lunch. But Blondie was still staring down at you, his eyebrow slightly raised as if he was waiting for you to say something.
Your lips pursed as you thought what he needed to hear until you gasped. “Oh, thanks, Blondie.” You muttered with your mouth still full as you began eating again.
You only got a huff in response as he walked away to do whatever he usually does. As you ate, you thought back to that centipede. Was that really real? There’s no such thing as monsters, anyway. You wondered if you should tell Blondie—but what could he do realistically?
Well, he’s in the Yakuza, maybe he could find a way.
𖥸
It’s been about two weeks now. Your dad still hasn’t returned much of your texts but you had gotten closer to Blondie. As much as you could anyway. He was very cut and dry with his answers to you.
You ask him how his day went, he’d answer with a curt: “okay.”
Ask him about what he does for work: “office job.”
He seemed to have trouble really looking at you when you spoke to him. He’d glance at you and then suddenly look at whatever he was doing with such intensity as you tried asking him questions. Or even just talking to him. Boring!
You were starting to believe he had a problem with the clothes you wore. When you dressed in baggy clothing, he would look at you more. But whenever you wore a tighter top or even shorts that showed a sliver of your ass, it was like looking at you would’ve burned his retinas!
Geez, did he not like guys in tighter clothing?
Damn… you must’ve been pretty ugly to him.
As you mentally cried to yourself about being seen as ugly on the couch, you glanced at your phone. You haven’t seen that slacker after you sent in the project. Of course you told the professor you did most and if not all of the work. So, you got an A—obviously.
You haven’t seen any human sized centipedes in a while so you were set to just believe you were imagining it. As you tugged down at your shorts that were acting like underwear at this point, you heard the front door open. Oh, Blondie’s back!
You grinned and went over to him, smiling. “Blondie! You’re early, they let you off?”
Blondie hummed. “I had a half day.” He simply said, walking over to the living room as he sat down with a grunt. He looked a bit tired so you decided to just not say anything else to him. There was always a few days when he just came home with a look of dread and was totally silent.
You were really starting to believe he was a Yakuza member.
As you turned to walk to your room, you bent down for a second to pick up a pillow that had fallen when you previously jumped off the couch. When you stood back you, you turned around to see Blondie staring at you with wide eyes. You simply smiled at him and placed the pillow back on the couch. Weird, why was he staring at you like that.
“I’m going to my room. Call me if you need me.” You said, waving goodbye as you sprinted off to your room, not knowing that Blondie’s gaze didn’t leave you at all.
𖥸
Nanami rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about you essentially just flashing him earlier. When you had bent down to grab the pillow, he saw that your shorts, that were too short in his opinion, the crotch area had kinda sort of—clung to one side. So he saw it, at least just one lip—of your cunt.
And he felt angry with himself that his cock actually twitched at the sight. Was he some damn animal? He’d certainly been feeling like that the last two weeks. He couldn’t exactly… speak well with you. You just staring up at him with your cute smile but painfully naughty clothing.
Who just wears a shirt that is practically clinging to your body that it hides nothing to the imagination! And your shorts… who wears such short shorts with no underwear?
He wasn’t sure if he could take another few weeks with you here. Not if he didn’t want to just slam you against the wall and take you there.
But no, he couldn’t do that. You were Ijichi’s son. And he was pretty sure when Ijichi said: “take care of my son.” He didn’t mean fuck his son. Though he kinda wished he did.
It’ll be fine. Just a minimum of two more weeks… then you’d be gone back at home with Ijichi.
𖥸
Nanami wished he had just gone straight to bed. He was sitting on the couch watching tv when you suddenly appeared, dressed in a stupid crop top and short shorts. You plopped down beside him before resting your head right on his lap. When he tried to push you away, you only whined, pouting up at him to let you stay.
Damn brat.
He tried focusing back on the show he was watching as you seemed to only have wanted contact with him. You hummed softly before giggling.
“Nana—Blondie,” you said, looking over at him. “Today’s my mom’s death anniversary.”
He glanced down at you, a bit confused on why you didn’t seem bothered on your mother being dead.
“She died in a car crash. Drunk driving. The hospital said she burned to death in her car… witnesses said they heard her screaming as they tried to open the car door and out the fire.” You sighed, a soft smile on your lips as you recount your mother’s death. “I was 18. It was a good early birthday gift. But Dad said I shouldn’t be so cruel to her even if she was a bitch.”
“It’s not strange,” you said, turning your face to rest on Nanami’s leg as you glanced up at him. Your eyelashes batting as your lips were pulled into a pout. “To not care about a bitch dying, right? I’m sure there’s someone everyone has that they just can’t wait to die.”
Nanami wasn’t sure what brought this out. He was actually a bit worried honestly that you were so nonchalant about death. Though he could tell that despite this act you were pulling, her death did affect you… but perhaps it truly did bring a sense of peace. Especially if her death was truly that horrible.
“I can’t speak on that.” Was all he said, deciding it was best to let the conversation die out. He’d tell Ijichi to schedule you a therapist once he’s better.
“Hm, yeah, I did bring it out of nowhere. Anyway, my birthday is in four days! Getting me anything?” You giggled.
“No. I didn’t know it was your birthday.”
“What? Blondie~! Whaddya mean? I’m practically your roommate by now, and roommates give each other gifts.”
“Are you truly my roommate when I do everything?”
Which was true. You were more like a freeloader. Nanami did the chores, cleaned up mostly after you, and paid for literally everything. You were silently forbidden on doing your piano jobs so you were kinda shit out of luck, relying on Nanami at this point.
You simply huffed. “Meanie.” As you moved your head to face Nanami’s stomach. Nanami couldn’t help but flinch as he felt your nose accidentally brush against his crotch area. His grip on the remote tightened as he so desperately wished he was rude enough to push you off of him.
It was quiet for bit, just the tv going on with the show Nanami was watching. And subconsciously, Nanami began to calm down a bit and just allowed you to stay there. Maybe you really did just want some comfort.
There was something pressing against his crotch. He glanced down to see you, purposefully, rubbing your nose against his crotch before pulling away. You yawned, acting as if you were just essentially teasing him and grinned.
“I’m going to bed, Blondie. Think about what you’re getting me for my birthday!” You winked, standing up as you walked back to your room. He was so sure you were intentionally swaying your hips. What the hell was that?
And why the hell was he horny from a freaking nose rub?!
𖥸
Blondie, Blondie, Blondie
That’s all you called him. Occasionally, you’d say, “Nana—” but then quickly switch back to Blondie. It was as if you were intentionally trying to get him upset. Nanami didn’t know how a calm man like Ijichi could have a son like you.
The only similarity you two had was the glasses you both wore. It actually was the same brand and shape—weird.
You seemed to have two pairs of glasses though. You were the ones similar to Ijichi’s often and this pair of red ones whenever you were feeling “annoying.” Nanami had come to expect the red cat eye glasses whenever you wanted to be a little brat.
And look at that, you were wearing them right now.
Nanami was sitting on the couch, checking something in his phone when you suddenly appeared behind him. He didn’t look up, waiting for you say something until he felt your arms wrap around his neck. His body stiffened as you leaned close, pressing your lips against the tip of his ear.
“Guess what’s tomorrow?” You whispered. “B-i-r-t-h-d-a-y.” You intentionally made each letter sound breathy, pausing just a split second to let them sit heavy in the air.
You pulled away and giggled. “Got my present? You gotta make up for Dad,” you went to sit on the couch and glanced over at Nanami who looked as if he would keel over if a gust of wind blew past him. His grip was tight on his phone, you were a bit worried it’d crack.
“What was that?” Nanami suddenly said, still looking straight.
“Was what? It was for dramatic effect!” You said honestly, not knowing how sexual you had just sounded in his ear. Nanami turned over to face you with a look of pure disbelief while you simply grinned.
“Aw~ poor Blondie, don’t take it so seriously!” You playfully pat his leg before grabbing the tv remote and turning it on. You were engulfed into the random Japanese drama playing while Nanami could only just stare at you in awe.
Wow. You really were a damn brat.
It was fine though. He had the perfect birthday present now.
𖥸
It was your birthday!!
Which meant no school. Why would you willingly go to school on your day? Only losers do that! You sighed comfortably on the couch as you turned on the tv to play random Korean dramas for most of the day. And that’s how you spent most of the day.
It was around noon when your phone buzzed. You expected it to be one of your very few friends that you have but much to your shock with was your dad! You squealed happily and quickly opened the text he sent.
‘Happy Birthday, 🐹, I’ve been feeling better, don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to call you soon. I hope you aren’t giving Nanami too much trouble.’
You pouted but quickly texted him back, stating that you and Blondie were practically pals at this point. It brought a smile to your lips to see the hamster emoji though. You had quite chubby cheeks even has an adult that your dad loving pinching. It always looked bigger when you ate.
It was commented more when you were a kid but there was still some people who would—lovingly—call you a hamster in disguise.
Finally having confirmation that your dad was at least alright, you felt a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. You yawned and stretched out, turning your attention back to the tv as you spent the rest of the day lounging around.
It was dark out when Nanami finally came back home. You waved from the couch, not bothering to get up. You were always lazy on your birthday. Definitely from being a bit too spoiled on these days. But hey, at least you didn’t act like this everyday.
You could see Nanami did have a small box in his hand as he moved to the kitchen. You silently hoped it was a cake as you finally sat up a bit and moved to join Nanami in the kitchen.
“So now you’re greeting me,” Nanami said, placing the box in the fridge. You pursed your lips, wondering why he seemed a bit upset. It wasn’t like you greeted him all the time when he walked through the door.
“You like that stuff? Aw~,” you walk over to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “You like those couple stuff? So cute, Blondie!”
You hummed when you felt his hand grab yours, slowly pulling it away from his shoulder. You glanced up, wondering if you perhaps went a bit too far but Nanami didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, he seemed like his usual self. He used his free hand to fix his glasses as his grip on yours tighten.
“I’ve allowed you to continually act like a brat throughout your stay here—I know what you truly need as a birthday present.”
With sudden strength, you found yourself pinned against the wall, his body pressed up against yours. You were wearing a long shirt but your usual short shorts.
“Blon—”
“—Sir. Since Nanami is a problem for you to say, that should be easy for you.”
You blushed slightly, having never really called someone that before. But somehow, you didn’t find it in you to disobey. Nanami hitched up your shirt, grabbing the front end and pressing it against your lips. It took you a second but you bit down on it.
“Good boy.”
Oh no.
Y’know, you did find Nanami attractive, but you were always the type of person to want to stick to your age range. But this…
“You kept whining about wanting a birthday present,” his hands gripped your shorts, “do you want this?” He whispered against your ear, practically giving you an out.
You gripped the wall in front of you but felt yourself nodding, blushing in embarrassment.
“I need words, (Name).” He said. You felt your legs tremble. You wanted him to say your name again.
“Yes… keep going.” You whispered.
Nanami hummed in approval as he pulled down your shorts, making you left up your legs so they can be fully taken off. Now you were standing in the kitchen, pressed against the wall with just a shirt. Nanami’s hand traced your upper thigh, his hand ghosting your cunt but he never brought it close enough.
You whined slightly, looking back at him with pleading eyes. He gave you small smirk.
“Despite it being your birthday, you acted bad today, Baby.”
“H..huh? How..?” You muffled out through your t-shirt, a look of surprise in your eyes.
“You don’t really remember?” Nanami gripped your hips tightly as he forced you to pull away from the wall. Your hands pressed tightly against the wall as your back arched. His hands slid down your hips to your butt as he harshly gripped them, spreading them apart teasingly as you whimpered.
“You can’t have short term memory loss, (Name). Think.”
You thought for a second before humming. “Greet… didn’t greet you..” you muffled.
“Good boy. So you know you’ll have to be punished for not properly greeting me? It’s what’s brats get for misbehaving.”
“m… not a brat.”
Smack!
“I don’t like liars.” Was all he said before you felt another slap against your ass. You whimpered, your body shaking at each spanking. He wasn’t gentle in the slightest, not leaving room for a break. It was continuous spankings against each cheek, earning deep screams from you.
The spankings filled the silent apartment, swirling in symphony with your high pitched screams. You didn’t think this was really a good birthday present but you couldn’t deny that it was actually feeling a bit good in a weird way.
After a few more slaps, Nanami began rubbing your sore butt cheeks, pressing a wet kiss into your shoulder.
“Good boy. You handled that perfectly.” He said, leaning close as he grabbed your left leg and lifted it up. Your back was now pressed against his chest as you tried to keep a steady balance with now just one foot.
“Th…ank…you.. Sir.” You muttered out, tears staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. Nanami cooed, wiping away a few of your tears with his free hand.
“Now, do you think you deserve your present?”
You nodded, “yes.. yes! Please..”
Nanami seemed to take a bit of pity on you as he simply nodded. He wanted to tease you a bit more but he decided that since it was your first time and birthday, he’d be nicer. Though next time he’d be much more cruel.
You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Nanami would be able to hear you or he might come home earlier than expected.
Just feeling his finger teasing you could bring you to an orgasm, but Nanami had different plans. He slipped in two fingers, earning a soft mewl from you. His fingers were large, easily stretching you out as he got you ready for his cock.
It wasn’t until you felt yourself close to an orgasm was when Nanami finally pulled out. Damn tease.
The feeling of a cock rubbing between your folds caused you to flinch as you gripped at the wall as some type of support. This position wasn’t the most comfortable but you were way too horny to walk to the bedroom or couch. You wanted him now.
Nanami was slow as he thrusted his cock inside your tight cunt. He grunted as you gasped, trying to get used to the large stretch. His fingers didn’t compare to it! Even though you were prepared, it took some effort for him to fully be inside of you.
You shivered, suddenly thinking that you were essentially fucking your dad’s ‘coworker.’ Fuck, well, maybe a few pouts and batting of the eyelashes will get you off with minimal punishment.
“Fuck… I’m sorry,” Nanami suddenly whispered.
“Mhm?”
With great force, your whole body was suddenly shoved against the wall once more as Nanami’s hands were on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. You felt him almost pull out fully until he slammed right back inside of you, causing you to cry out in shock.
You helplessly gripped at the wall for some sort of purchase as Nanami fucked into you like an animal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, moving you as if you were a fleshlight on his cock. The only sounds coming from his was animalistic grunts.
Your cunt clamped tightly around Nanami’s cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. Nanami seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point.
“Si…Sir… ‘m com..!” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall. Your fingers dug ineffectually into the wall as a way of purchasing yourself against Nanami’s harsh thrusts.
He continued going even after you came, his hips slapping against your sore ass. As his grip on your hips tightened to were it felt as if his fingers was digging into the skin, he slammed his hips one last time. His cock was deep inside when he finally cummed, coating your insides.
You shrieked, shocked that he came inside. The warm cum slowly seeped down your thighs as you felt your knees collapse but Nanami was quick to hold you up.
Nanami leaned against your back, breathing heavily. “Sorry… I didn’t mean for that happen..” he muttered. “Just lost control.”
You hummed, gently wiggling your butt. “Maybe I’m just that pretty.” You teased, looking back at Nanami. You giggled slightly, enjoying his unimpressed face.
A moan left your lips as you felt his cock slowly slide out before pushing back it. You stared at Nanami in shock, surprised an older man seemed to have a quick reload. He simply grinned.
You were screwed.
𖥸
You hummed softly as Nanami rubbed your sore butt cheeks, rubbing some cream on it to stop the pain. It had been just a few days after your birthday and now this “spanking” thing was constant.
And fucking. Very often.
Nanami was always cool and collected during your punishments but whenever he got his dick inside your pussy, he could never control himself properly. It was honestly funny. And a bit scary that he could do more than one round so quickly.
The most you two have done so far was three.
And that was just a few minutes ago.
“Hm, Blondie,” you still called him that outside of sex, “did I tell you about this huge centipede I saw in this abandoned building? It had red eyes and everything, it was like… human sized!”
Nanami’s calming massage suddenly stopped. You looked back and raised an eyebrow, wondering what was wrong. He was looking at you with wide eyes—which was shocking, Nanami never looked at you like that before.
Maybe being a Yakuza member didn’t mean he could handle it.
Well, shoot.
But you couldn’t help but think Nanami wasn’t shocked about the centipede.
More about that you saw it.
Huh. Yakuza members are weird.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
I think I made reader a bit weird lolol. Way longer than I thought it was going to be. I hope I did nanami justice, I have trouble writing him for some reason
Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @remdayz @flurrina @iwishtobeacrow @smellwell @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @mello-life69 @rhetorical-conscience @tehyunnie @ofclyde
#bottom male reader#x male reader#sub male reader#uke male reader#mlm ns/fw#ftm ns/fw#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami x you#jjk nanami#nanami kento x male reader
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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!!!!
“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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I worry about you (Clingy!Yandere x Delinquent!Reader)
CW: body trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior
"I don't understand, why are you saying these things?!" Everett shouted, tugging on (Reader's) jacket like a man fearful of drowning. The two stood at the top of a set of wooden outdoor stairs built into a steep hill in the city's little hiking trail/park, a meeting spot where they often hung out after school.
His brown eyes glowed under the sun like molten gold, churning with heartache as he held onto his only friend.
(Reader) kept their face rigid like stone, fighting the desire to retract what they had said, their decision was final. It was for Everett's own good. "Dude, stop acting crazy. You're acting like we were dating. I'm just saying that I need space. Go make other friends, go on dates, I don't care. Jesus, just stop hanging onto me all the time."
Lies, all lies. I don't mind how clingy you are. I love that you stay by my side. I know I have a shit personality, I know I'm trash, so I really appreciate that you're the only one to stay my friend. You've been my friend since we were ten years old, so please, PLEASE, fucking take the hint. I've seen that the teachers have started to treat you differently just because you're my friend. And how many times do I have to rescue you from wannabe thugs who only fuck with you because they hate me? You deserve better than that.
You deserve better than me.
(Reader) roughly shook their only friend off their arm. It was painful now, for both of them, but (Reader) knew it was for the best.
"But why? What did I do wrong?" Everett sniffled, rubbing his eyes as the waterworks persisted. (Reader) turned to leave, unable to watch Everett any longer without their resolve crumbling. "WAIT!" Everett panicked, reaching out to latch onto (Reader's) arm again. (Reader) felt his fingers brush against their arm, and threw back their elbow to push Everett away.
They didn't know, however, that Everett had stepped forward. (Reader) misjudged how hard to push, not knowing that Everett was closer than he was just a second ago. Their wrist smashed into Everett's chest, causing him to stumble backwards, and tumble down the stairs.
Eyes widening in fear, (Reader) immediately began sprinting down the steps, skipping two at a time on the way down as their friend bounced against the weathered wood, hitting the dirt at the bottom hard. Their heart was beating so fast it felt like they would have a heart attack as they jumped the last couple stairs, crouching over their best friend crying in the fetal position.
"Everett, oh my God, are you okay?!" They gingerly scooped his upper half into their lap, examining his head for injuries.
"My- my arm..." Everett cradled his arm, crushing (Reader) further with guilt.
Placing his head down carefully, (Reader) took off running, calling out for help in hopes that someone nearby had a phone to call an ambulance. They disappeared out of Everett's sight, hearing them hollering as they ran away.
As soon as (Reader) vanished from view, Everett stopped crying, sitting up miserably. How did this happen?
Everything had been going so perfectly. Everett had set himself up as a weak, innocent best friend for (Reader), tailoring his personality for the past eight years to ensure that (Reader) would never leave him. When his family uprooted his life at the age of ten, he already knew there was no chance of happiness in his future. It was hard enough convincing anyone at his old school to like a freak like him, but being a new kid on top of having a personality that for some reason pushed everyone away? Everett knew it was hopeless.
But it seemed fate had other plans for him. The very first day in the new home Everett attempted to climb the large tree in his fenceless backyard and slipped, falling out of one of the lower branches. It hadn't hurt all that much, really just stinging a bit, but he didn't have time to even sit up before his new neighbor was rushing over to help him, having witnessed the fall from their back window. (Reader) was an angel, the summer sunlight illuminating their form like a halo. They didn't waste a second, pulling Everett's body onto their back, struggling under his weight but forcing their tiny muscles to carry Everett to his parents. It didn't even hurt, and Everett was more than capable of walking on his own, but having someone his own age care about him for the first time in his entire ten years of life.. he played into it, relishing in the attention he was receiving, forcing large crocodile tears out in hopes (Reader) would stay by his side longer. And it worked.
It worked for eight years, so why were they pushing him away now?
He constantly allowed himself to trip in front of (Reader), embarrassing himself over and over to keep them paying attention to him. Even now, throwing himself backwards down a flight of stairs while making it look like an accident, just to prevent (Reader) from leaving him.
Unfortunately, nothing was actually broken on him. He glanced around, finding a rock almost too large to grasp in one hand. Unlike when they were children, Everett didn't believe crying would be enough to keep (Reader) by his side. He rolled up the sleeve on the arm he pretended was broken, biting down onto the front of his hoodie. It didn't matter if (Reader) was only with him out of guilt, it only mattered that they were with him.
Everett smiled through gritted teeth, thinking about (Reader) sitting next to him in the hospital, refusing to leave his side for even a second, then brought the heavy rock down onto his arm with an audible crack.
Please continue worrying about me.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere best friend#clingy yandere#yandere fanfiction#writing#not proofread#tw manipulation
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don't you forget about me (part eight; final)
(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)
It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy.
Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”
“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.”
Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that.
“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again.
“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said.
Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.”
“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”
“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.”
Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work.
“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number.
The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago.
“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?”
“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.”
“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.”
Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.”
A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.”
Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.
The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror.
There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth-
Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.
He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory.
~
Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it.
It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.”
“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods.
Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.”
Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.”
“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?”
“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.”
“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.”
“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.
“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.”
When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels.
“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.”
Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right.
When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him.
“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?”
Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home.
He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.
“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled.
“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.”
“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this.
Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.”
It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”
“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm.
The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.”
Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him.
But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?”
Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.”
“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his.
“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.”
And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.
THE END.
taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)
#and that's all folks!#endings are so hard for me but i hope you guys like this one#huge huge thank you to everyone who's followed along; all the love and support on this has been insane and i am so grateful <3#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steddie fanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#fanfic#mine#dyfamsteddiefic
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Hello dear writer! Whenever you have time would you consider doing a fluff and maybe smut piece about how Adam would be on a restaurant date? I’m so curious how he would act since they didn’t have dates when he was alive a trillion billion million years ago.
And Valentine’s Day has me way up in the feels 🥹
Thank you bebe 🩵
A bit late for Valentine's day but better late than never babes 😎 this was longer than I was expecting 🫢
💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖
Valentines
It's been a while since Adams been on a "date" if you could even call it that. The last "date" he had was with Eve in the Garden of Eden. So... Yeah. A while might be an understatement. He also hated the day. Like many holidays. Why should SaInT vAlEnTiNe get a whole holiday after him?! Adam is the ORIGINAL dick. If anything there should be a holiday celebrated for HIM. But, whatever. You were into it. And he was into you.
He was so nervous when he asked you out for Valentine's day. He waited until last minute before finally getting the courage to ask. Ten o'clock at night he frantically knocked at your door. You hurried to answer, the panic filled your body at the knocking. It was desperate, like someone needed help. When you opened the door and saw a panting Adam you were confused. Was he hurt? Before you could say anything he put his hand up to your face signaling you to not speak as he caught his breath. It was odd why he was out of breath. He flies everywhere. Did he run? "Be- huff- will you- jesus, fuck- pant-" his hand were on his knees as he choked on his breath. "Ada-" hand in your face. Rude. He straightened himself out, at least as much as he could in the small apartment hallway. The apartment was made for smaller Winners not 8 foot Giants like Adam. "Be my Valentine?" He panted out. Of course you said yes! What can you say? You've been crushing on him for, like, ever! You never picked up that he likes you back. Even though he was never subtle. "Cool- pant- text you the deetz." He shot you some finger guns before leaving.
So now it's Valentine's day! 💘 Cupid's shot his arrow and hit you. You're feeling fun, flirty, and feisty. You put on your cutest outfit and checked yourself in the mirror. Is cute what you're going for? It's your first date. But it is Valentine's day. You don't wanna be prudish. You change into something a bit more revealing and again checked yourself. This might be a bit too sexy.. slutty even! You don't want to give the impression that you put out of the first day! Even if you do. No. This needs to be perfect. You think to yourself... "I bet Adam isn't having this much trouble."
You weren't wrong. Adam was much more relaxed. Too relaxed. Why would he be nervous? He's the man. In fact he was out right now looking at new guitars. When he left the store he saw Valentine, surrounded by his Cupid's. "Augh." Adam grunted, not wanting to interact with the Saint. "Adam!" Shit. "A little birdy told me you've got a Valentine's this year. It's been what? Centuries?" Valentine laughed. Adam rolled his eyes, then glared at him. "Yeah? So what? I figured it's a good way to get free pussy." Adam shrugged as a cocky grin formed on his face. The Cupid angels surrounding Saint Valentine cringed. "Oh, Adam. Come now! This is a holiday of love and romance. Not cheap pickups!" The man placed a hand on Adam shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "So, are you going anywhere special? Have you bought the lucky angel flowers? Chocolates? A gift of adoration?" "Uh.. what?" "You haven't bought them anything have you?" The man laughed, putting his hand on Adams shoulder again pulling Adam closer. "Good luck getting fucked, playboy." He hissed with a wicked smirk. Valentine released Adams shoulder laughing. "Happy Valentine's days!" He said before flying away with his cupids. "Motherfucker!" Adam's flew off to the nearest store to get you some flowers.
When he arrived the flower section was bare. Maybe one half dead rose. "What the hell?" He flew all over the store looking for anything Valentines related. "No, no, no!" He stopped in one of the aisles before finding worker. "Hey! Where the fuck is the stuff?" "S-stuff, sir?" Adam gestures around the store. "You know! The fucking Valentines shit! Where is it?!" The poor retail worker fretted telling him there was nothing left. "V-valentines day is o-one of the most popular days of the year sir... There's nothing left.." "NOTHING LEFT?!?!" Adam yelled. His voice booming around the store causing shelfs to shake knocking almost everything off. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NOTHING LEFT?! I NEED SOMETHING FOR TONIGHT!!!" "I - I'm sorry, sir!" The poor angels voice shuddered. Adam groaned, balling his hands into fists. He was about to leave before he noticed a bottle of soda that hadn't fallen. He pushed it off the shelf for good measure before storming out of the store.
He wasn't going to spend all day looking for shit of this shitty holiday. He hated it. This was dumb! He's gift enough. Still, he takes his phone and texts Lute
"URGENT! flowers! Plz get 4 me thx dngrtits"
That'll do. He heads home to get ready for your date.
～♡✧｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧♡～
The time comes and Adam is waiting outside of your apartment building, he's not walking up all those stairs again. He was feeling cool. Calm. Collected. Until he saw you. His hands started getting clammy, his heat racing. You look so pretty. You of course found the prefect in-between of cute and sexy for your outfit. "Heeey, you could of made an effort." He joked. You frowned. You thought you did well. He clears his throat. "Let's go." He wiped his hands on his robe before taking flight with you following after.
You both arrived at the restaurant. Neither of you stop on the way. It was awkward. He walked in first, he didn't hold the door open for you. Rude. Once inside you noticed the restaurant was jam packed. Adam also noticed this and froze. "Good thing you booked, right?" You said, playfully, hoping to break some tension. "Uh... Yeah... Wait here, surgartits." He walked over to the host. "I need a table for two." The host scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We've got one available tomorrow." Adam was fuming. This was all going wrong. This can't go wrong. "Do you fucking know who I am?!" He raised his voice. "I'm fucking ADAM! I'm the fucking man! And I want a damn table!" You walk over. "Adam?" "What, bitch!? Fuck! Can't you see I'm busy?! I'm getting us a table!" He yelled at you. No. Nope. You're too good to be yelled at. This was meant to be fun. Fuck this. You put your hands in the air. "Nope. I'm out." You turn on your heels and exit the restaurant. "Wait- no, y/n." He looks as you exit then back at the host. "I'll ruin your fucking life, cunt." He hissed before flying out of the restaurant.
He looks around and you were no where to be seen. "Fast fucker. AUGH!!!" He stomped his foot covering his face with his hands. If he wasn't wearing his mask he'd be pulling his hair.
You got yourself home. Fucking shit day. Dumb idea. You don't even know why he asked you. The whole thing was dumb. Everything about it was dumb. You collapse onto the couch, sulking. It doesn't take long before there's a knock at the door. Adam you suspect. You roll your eyes before peeling yourself off the couch. Opening the door you see Lute. Huh. "Uh.. hi?" "Adam requests your presents. Put on this blind fold." She hands you a blindfold. "What?" She didn't repeat herself. She never does. You groan, knowing she won't leave until you do it so whatever. You put the blindfold on and lute takes your wrist and flies off with you ragdolling.
Once your feet touch the ground she lets go of your wrist. Leaving you there blindfolded. "Uh.. you can take that off now." You do, to see a candle lit picnic layed out. It was adorable, there were fairy lights on the trees. Adam stood there, awkwardly, with a bunch of your favourite flowers. How did he know? Lute. "Uh. Surprise.." he handed you the flowers. "Sorry, about the restaurant. Fucking idiots double booked or something.. I don't know." He shrugged. You know it wasn't true. He didn't book, you know that. But you smiled. "Thank you, Adam. This is much nicer." He smiled and stretched. "Well, what can I say? I know what I'm doing."
You sat on the blanket, Adam did also and popped open a bottle of champagne. "I got the good stuff." You smile at the gesture although you always thought champagne tasted disgusting. He got all the good stuff, strawberries and chocolates. Cheese board. Cute little cakes. "This is all very well thought out. How did you get this so quickly?" You asked. He shrugged with a smirk. "I'm just that good, babe." Lute. This was more his style anyway. Outside, under the stars. It reminded him of the Garden.
"so, this was fun." He rubbed the palm of his hands on his knees. "I'd much rather not do this Valentine's bullshit though. Maybe next time we can just... Do it whenever?" "I'd like that. Although, this Valentine's day has turned out pretty perfect." You smile. "Well. I am perfect so." He smirks at you. You don't want to stroke his ego anymore than you already have. You roll your eyes before quickly giving him a peck on the lips. "you're alright, I suppose." You took his sweaty hand in yours and led down, he followed. You both watched the stars in silence. He'd gently squeeze your hand every now and then, you'd squeeze back.
"Happy valentine's, Y/N."
"Happy valentine's, Adam."
#hazbin hotel#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam x reader#adam x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel adam smut
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My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.
When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.
Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."
Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.
And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.
I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.
Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.
But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"
This is bullshit. She was very aware.
Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.
No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."
But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.
So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.
It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.
It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.
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Happiness -Simon 'Ghost' Riley
Photo Credits: @ave661
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F!Reader, angst, divorce, ex-husband!Simon, dad!Simon
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A/N: Blaming the talented writers on here that wrote on ex-husband!Simon a while back for this
Ten years, eight of them lived as his wife and four of them as the mother to his child. Now, you and he sit on the stools of the kitchen island, tears in both your eyes as you two come to terms that your marriage is over. No one cheated, no one was toxic but the one thing that they couldn't see coming was that sometimes, love runs out. He and you stopped doing all the cute stuff together, it became stale and dead. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, holding your hand as you look down crying. "I guess it happens," you whisper back. But it shouldn't have. Not to you and not to him.
You were supposed to grow old together, watch your child grow old, measure his height by the door frame, and watch Simon give his advice for when your son gets his first girlfriend. It was a plan, to sit by the fireplace when you'd both enter your fifties, reminisce on the past and laugh at the cringe things you both did when young. "I'll make sure the divorce goes smooth, I'll...find a place and visit every day. I swear to be the best at...co-parenting," he says with care. "I know, Simon," you grip his hand.
It's a bittersweet moment, nearly five years ago, you sat him down in this exact place and held his hand with teary eyes as you told him you were pregnant. "Oh...oh my love, I'm going to be a dad!" The kiss he gave you knowing romance films would never compare to that kiss. Now, as you sit in silence, you can't help but cry a different kind of tears. Ten years of your life spent with him spent loving and getting to know him. They say, that to love is to know someone and you know and love him very well so, that is how you find yourself hugging him. Simon's hold on you is so hard yet filled with sadness and care.
"I love you!" you laugh as you run around the sofa. Simon chasing you and laughing. He had started it, the 'I love you more' competition and when you whispered, 'I love you best' he began to tickle you. "If you say I win, I'll stop tickling you," he laughs. "Never!" your laughter loud as you try and push him off. "Very well then, lovely," he chuckles. After one push, that is where you find yourself running around the home you built with him.
As you walk past the now cold sofa, you picture that night. Picture the mornings, days, afternoons and midnights where he and you kissed, cuddled, shared secrets, tears and laughs. What a sour taste did it bring to you. "I'll always love you," you whisper to the memory. Simon is out the door and on the road, finding someplace to stay for the night. In moments like these, he would seek for you but now, he must learn to be strong without you, something rather hard.
[6 Months later]
A knock on your door as Simon comes to pick up your son. "It's opened!" you call out from the kitchen. His little boy, running to the door and smiling. "Daddy!" the young boy smiles and reaches for him, the image in front of you, melting your heart as you watch father and son share a moment. Your heart aches. Why didn't you fight? Cry and beg for him to think it through? No, but you want him to be happy and if he was unhappy in your marriage then you can't for him to stay or love you.
It's been nine days since the divorce was finalised, you nor he told any of your friends. Kept it all to yourselves and went through grief alone. You drink wine alone in the afternoons now, he watches shit comedy specials alone. And when either of you turns to the side he or you occupied, the feeling comes back. No more shit-talking about the comedian, no more asking for another glass of wine. What if he is someone you'll never move on from? What if you're someone he never mentions?
What if you two were blind and it wasn't that love ran out?
Fuck...why must this hurt.
"R/N, y'alright?" his voice interrupts you.
No, I'm not and I miss you like never before. I miss your kisses, your whispers and your dirty jokes. I miss your mornings, I miss our mornings. Love me, please...please love me.
"Yeah, sorry, I was just trying to remember my schedule today," your voice soft. He nods, "Yeah, well, me and the lad will be out. Call you if needed and call me if you need me." He says before leaving through the door. "Mm-hmm," you play bravely and watch him leave. As you sit on the sofa, you cry. You can't let him leave, not when you have poems, love letters and sweet nothings to tell him. Not when you still want to share your life with him. You walk to the door and go for the handle but hesitate.
What if he moved on? What if he loves another?
[Simon's POV]
I step out, buckle my kid in and as I hear him laugh, I remember his second favourite toy is still in her home. Will she let me back in? Can she?... Now I'm wondering if she ever cared. Why did I fight for her? Why must I let her leave so easily? What if my love finds some man who tries to play house with my son and my girl? No, fuck that it won't happen. As I reach for her front door, I stop. My R/N, why must you feel so far and yet feel so close to me?
Don't be stupid, she probably moved on. It's been six months, surely she is fine. But if she isn't? Then, I can still be the shoulder she leans on, I can be the chest she cries in, "Daddy, let's go!" Fuck, that's right.
On the drive to the park, my mind wanders to her. Her smile, the way she was insecure of the stretch marks but she would fluster when I kissed them. Ten years ago, I met her in this park, kissed her here, walked with her here when she was pregnant and watched our son take his first steps here. Now, I walk with my son but not with her by my side. A woman approaches, me, we talk and soon after I leave. R/N must be home or out. I wonder if she still sings her makeup steps when getting ready.
Does she still remember how I kissed her? How did my body feel against hers? I wonder if she misses me like how I miss her. Does she want to kiss me? Get back together? I hope no other guy wins her heart like I did. I hope no guy knows she loves to be kissed when her favourite song comes up and how she loves it when dirty jokes are told to her in whispers. I hope no guy watches her dance in a dress and adores her, those curves she got when she became a mother, the smile and the laugh when she gets nervous.
I wonder if she knows I know her better than anyone. That my love beats any movie on the screen. I read all her favourite books so she'd think I was cool or that I read them to do the things the characters did and watch her fall for me more. Why didn't I tell her that day that I wasn't falling out of love but rather I was scared she would leave me? Fuck..
"Simon?" her delicate voice. If the heavens could speak, she would be the voice of them. "Sorry, I..." tell her you fool! Tell her you love her, that you miss her lips, her wit, her clumsiness and how she gives you a puppy stare when she can't reach the top shelf. "Yeah...uh, I forgot his...uh...his other toy and he has been asking about it." FUCKING COWARD!
[Your POV]
It was earlier than expected but he brought your son home earlier than usual. "I'll go get it for you," you say and walk upstairs. Meanwhile, he looks at the photos at the entrance. What were once photos of you three are now you and your son. "Here it is," you say as you hand him the toy. "Thanks, love," he mumbles as he leaves once more. Before you can close the door, "Simon?" your voice with hope. "Yes?" he turns around, a faint smile on him. Oh those eyes, his beautiful eyes. "...drive safe..." you want to mentally slap yourself. "Yes, love," he nods and walks back to his car.
To build a home, to walk away and to miss it. Simon Joseph Riley and R/N...formally R/N Riley, now miss home. A home that was found in each other's arms.
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patience is a virtue - jj maybank
Summary: you finally get on birth control, which means you and jj finally get to raw dog it, whoop
Warnings: 18+!!!!!!!! SMUT, p in v sex (reader is on birth control but theoretically both parties are tested and clean and exclusively sleeping with each other), little bit of praise kink, cream pie, fluff? soft jj <3
wc: 2771 wtf 🫣
A/N: so I decided to start writing again and then this happened lol. I’m probably rusty and this is my first time writing for jj so I hope it’s okay and y’all enjoy!!!<3
Jj had been counting down the days until your doctor's appointment. You were finally getting on birth control, the arm implant, to be specific. You had done your research, as well as an initial consultation with your doctor to go over all of your options and decided that the ‘one and done’ route would be the best for you.
You and jj had been together for a little over a year, using condoms every time you had sex. As much as you both liked the security of you not getting pregnant, you both wanted more, you both craved more. Not only that, but you had irregular and horribly painful periods and when your doctor mentioned that being on birth control could stop your periods, that was more than enough to convince you to take that step.
The day finally came, though, and jj insisted on driving you to your appointment, ignoring your assurance that it was a quick and easy procedure.
“jj, it’s not like I’m getting put under for a major surgery or something, it’ll probably be only like ten minutes. No medicine or anything.” You told him as you buckled your seatbelt. There was no changing his mind.
jj rolled his eyes as he started up the twinkie, already having made arrangements with john b over a week ago to let him borrow the van.
“I know, baby, but this is a big moment, wanna be there for you.” He said with a grin, pulling onto the road and starting towards your doctor’s office.
“Well, I appreciate it. I honestly think you’re more excited than I am.” You giggled, glancing over at your boyfriend as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail.
“Now what makes you say that?” He teased, knowing damn well he had this appointment marked in his phone calendar and his extra ass even drew a dick and a smiley face on your little desk calendar you had.
You had arrived shortly after, and just as you predicted, the whole appointment only took about ten minutes and was pretty painless. jj waited in the car for you to be done, smiling ecstatically at you once he saw you make your way out the office doors and towards the twinkie.
“How was it? Did it hurt?” He asked as soon as you got into the car, looking at your arm that was now wrapped in a bright pink bandage.
You shook your head, leaning across the seat to softly kiss your boyfriend, his hands finding your hair first before slowly trailing down your body to rub on your thighs as he deepened the kiss. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, so you pulled away with a laugh.
“Nope, nope, don’t even think about it. This thing doesn’t start working for seven days.” You told him, smiling innocently at him as you watched his face drop. You swore all the light in his eyes left his body for a second. He was so dramatic.
You were obviously disappointed too. It would have been nice to go straight home and have what would probably be the best sex of your life right away. But then you would have to go and buy a Plan B, and then this would all be for nothing.
“Now what the fuck? How are they gonna call this shit modern medicine but that shit doesn’t start working for a week?” jj scoffed, one of his hands still resting on your thigh while his other raised to softly graze your bandage, “like, they put a whole ass stick in your arm. What’s it even doing for these seven days? Just sitting in there doing nothing? They really need to make advancements to this shit.” he rambled on, but he couldn’t help but start laughing once you did.
“You are the most dramatic person I have ever met. We just gotta wait it out. Although, with all this anticipation, hopefully you can last more than a minute.” You mumbled the last part, your gaze leaving jj’s as you buckled your seatbelt, knowing he would start huffing over your comment.
And that he did, huffing as he started the car, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s — shut the fuck up. Don’t act like this won’t be torture for you, too.” He mumbled back, backing out of the parking lot and heading towards the chateau.
It had been a long week since your appointment. You and jj had never gone this long without having sex. You could have still used a condom in the meantime, but after a conversation in bed the first night, you had both decided to wait until you could do it raw for the first time. You were struggling, to say the least, but you had more composure than jj did all week.
He wasn’t making it easy though. The way he cuddled against you in bed, his hard dick pressing into your lower back made you crave the feeling of him inside of you. You almost caved multiple times every time he touched you, you just wanted more. But he respected your agreement, even though it was just as torturous for him. Touching your skin, seeing the way the bottom of your ass cheeks stuck out of the bottom of your shorts, all he wanted to do was rip your clothes off and bury himself inside of you. But he could wait, it would be worth it.
It couldn’t have been more perfect timing. Day seven had finally come around and your beautiful and wonderful friends all happened to have plans, which meant you and jj had the chateau to yourselves. It truly felt like a gift from god.
It was late morning, the soft glow of the sun peaking through the sheer blinds of the bedroom jj had made his own had woken you from your sleep. jj was still sleeping soundly next to you, his face pressed against your neck, an arm draped firmly across your waist.
“jay,” you whispered, softly rubbing circles on the back of his neck, your face being close enough to leave soft kisses in his messy blonde hair.
“mm- oh, fuck,” jj rasped, quickly gaining consciousness as he realized it was finally morning. He was so excited to sleep last night because it meant the next day would come quicker. It was like a kid on Christmas Eve. “it’s time?” He lifted his head from your neck, rolling himself over so he was on top of you, his hands holding himself up above your head on the pillow.
“It’s time,” you giggled, reaching up to cup his cheeks, “I’m done being patient. Need you inside me.” You whispered, and at that, jj leaned down, connecting your lips. He wasn’t completely rough, but he wasn’t gentle, and god did you miss this.
Your lips didn’t part from one another as his hands moved their way down your body. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt that clad your body, yet another thing making him absolutely feral.
You disconnected to breathe, and so that he could lift your shirt above your head, discarding it on the cluttered floor. You looked up at him, now only in your panties, finding that familiar comfort that lived in those beautiful blue eyes of his.
“Fuck, missed seeing you like this, baby.” He panted, his breath hot on your skin as he lowered his mouth down to your tits, his tongue circling your sensitive nipple as you gasped, reaching up to entangle your fingers in his hair.
He soon took your whole nipple in his mouth, humming in satisfaction against the warm skin, while also lowering his body to grind his boxer clad dick against your wet center. He was achingly hard, no doubt his boxers were already stained with the precum that was eagerly leaking out of his sensitive tip.
You whimpered softly as he grazed his teeth against your nipple as he sucked sloppily, the feeling of his mouth on you making your center pulsate harder.
“jj, need you, please..” you whined, grinding your hips up against his dick, the fabric beneath the two of you was too much. You needed him.
“Okay, baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling his mouth off of your nipple with a pop, leaving the skin red and wet, “need to taste you first.” He added before scooting down further on the bed, giving himself enough room to pull his shirt over his head and discard it with yours.
He quickly repositioned himself in front of your legs, his ring clad fingers cold on your skin as he pushed your knees apart, sliding his hands up your thighs as he spread your legs. He was met with your underwear which you could feel was soaked, and you were sure it was quite the sight for him to see.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re soaked.” He hummed, palming his hands up and down your thighs until he reached the waistband of your underwear, his fingers not hesitating to pull the fabric down your legs and off of your body completely.
“There she is,” jj smiled at the sight of your pussy before him, running a finger through your wet folds, circling your entrance and sliding it back up to rub torturously slow circles against your clit. He was acting as though your pussy was his best friend who he hadn’t seen in months. Again, he was dramatic.
“Please, jay, fuck, you — you can’t torture me now, ‘s been way too long.” You whined, your eyes shutting for a moment as you clenched around nothing, his touches making your veins feel like fire. You needed something.
“M’kay, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just missed this. Don’t like not having you for so long.” He finally gave in, lowering his head to finally take you in his mouth, his tongue flicking quickly against your clit as his wet lips closed around it, sucking the sensitive bud in his warm mouth.
You couldn’t hold back the moans that fell from your lips, the feeling of his mouth finally on you mixed with the soft breaths leaving his nose that was pressed against your pelvic bone was everything.
“That’s right, that’s good, yeah? Just what you needed?” He pulled back for only a moment to glance up at you as you nodded quickly in response before his middle finger teased your wet entrance. Without another word, he pushed his finger inside of you, bringing his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he began pumping his finger inside of your tight pussy, not missing the sweet gasp that left your parted lips.
He got a rhythm going as he always did, eventually adding his index finger, stretching your tight walls around his fingers as his mouth moved sloppily against your clit. It was a wet mess already, his chin and fingers completely soaked with your juices, the sound of your moans and his soft praises filled the room as he quickened his pace, bringing you closer to your high.
“I’m close, fuck me, I’m gonna come-“
It took only a few more pumps from jj, the way he curled his fingers perfectly, not missing a beat as your stomach tightened before contracting, your eyes squeezing shut as you moaned loudly, reaching forward again to grip tightly onto your boyfriends hair, pulling rather hard as your orgasm took over your body.
Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he pulled them out, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean as he grinned lovingly at you.
“That’s good, baby, you’re so good for me,” he cooed, leaning down once again to press a sweet kiss onto your sensitive clit, making your breath hitch as you came down from your high. “You ready for me now? Been dreaming of this since I met you.” jj studied your face for any sign of hesitation, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen by your eyes.
“I’m ready, please, need to feel you.” You responded rather quickly, wholeheartedly enjoying the foreplay, but this is what you had been waiting for, you were ready to feel him fully.
“I got you, I got you…” he gave a quick kiss to your lips before sitting up and removing his boxers. His cock sprung free, happily unrestricted now, his tip red and swollen, precum now leaking out down his shaft.
You watched as he gave himself a few quick pumps, lubricating himself with his precum before positioning his cock in front of your pussy, gathering your wetness onto his tip before lining himself up with your entrance.
One hand held his cock as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, the other holding your bare waist. It was immediate euphoria for the both of you. You both had no idea what utter pleasure had been beneath the thin condom you had grown so accustomed to.
jj paused once he bottomed out, his eyes meeting yours as you nodded profusely for him to keep going. He needed a second, your joke about him not lasting was now fresh on his mind, but he was determined to make this last for the both of you, and he would be damned if he didn’t give you at least one more orgasm.
“Fuck me, Y/N, holy shiiitt you feel so perfect. So perfect for me. Pussy was made for me.” He groaned, taking a deep and shaky breath before he felt like he could begin moving again.
And so he did, his thick cock pushing in and out of you as you desperately reached up to grab the back of his neck, your fingernails digging into the soft skin making his little curses and moans grow louder.
Sex had never felt this good before, no barriers at all, just jj, completely jj. Watching his eyebrows furrow in pure and utter pleasure as his lips parted was sending your stomach into a frenzy and realistically you both knew that this first time going raw wouldn’t last too much longer, but that was okay.
“Love you, love you, feels so good, just— fuck, harder, please, I’m close.” You whined, your pussy clenching around jj’s cock as he quickened his pace, his hand that was holding your waist now moving down to rub at your clit, knowing that was going to do it for you.
“C’mon, baby, let go, yeah? Come for me, fuck — love you so much, so so good..” he praised, his cock hitting your sweet spot so perfectly while his fingers worked tirelessly against your clit, and that was all it took for your orgasm to hit you at full force, showing no mercy as your back arched, your fingers digging even deeper into your boyfriend’s skin. You didn’t even know what words left your mouth as you rode out your high, but you couldn’t care less.
jj’s gaze left your eyes as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, juices everywhere, no doubt leaving a mess on the sheets. But the sight of that alone, mixed with the euphoria of being inside of you completely raw, not to mention the way your pussy clenched repeatedly around his cock, that was it for him. He pushed in one last time, his tip hitting deep inside of you as he came, truly inside of you for the first time. Thick spurts of come shot into you as he completely lost his composure, his arms unable to hold him up any longer, collapsing against your bare chest.
“My baby, god, fuck, I love you so much, you’re… ahh, fuck.” jj moaned one last time, needing a moment to catch his breath before he could move again. What felt like forever was only a few seconds, however, and he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, not missing the way you winced at not only the sensitivity but the loss of fullness.
Taking a breath, jj leaned over the side of the bed to grab his t-shirt, gently wiping up his mess that was now spilling out of you. He made a mental note to put a towel down next time, might save a load of laundry, and a shirt.
“You did so good, baby. I’ve never felt so good in my fucking life.” He kissed your swollen lips once he finished wiping you up, smiling tiredly at your sweet post orgasm face, cheeks pink with a small but satisfied little smile on your lips.
“Yeah, no, that was well worth the wait.”
#jj maybank#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank x reader#outer banks#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank fanfiction#outer banks fanfiction#pls be nice I’m fragile thank u
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NSFW Alphabet — Dilf!Anakin.
— CW: 18+! Smut. Age gap. Kinky shit (Letter D mentions fauxcest so if you are uncomfortable with it, do not interact) Anakin is 40 - Reader is 23!
— a/n: Oh my god! Anya! Finally more Dilf!Anakin content?! Yes! I had this idea a while ago and I couldn't get it off my mind </3. This will also give more context to my lore of the DA!Series. Enjoy!
— Anakin Masterlist ! ! !
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
When he was young, Anakin couldn’t care much about aftercare. He was used to random hookups and leaving before sunrise (That is until he accidentally got his high school sweetheart pregnant… with twins). So, he was never big on it; he didn’t know how much it meant and how important aftercare was. Needless to say, he was kind of a bitch.
As he grows older, he realizes sex is more than penis in vagina action. Yes, Anakin actually matures by the time he meets you, he is a whole different person; He will kiss you, ask you if it was good, if he hurts you, he will make sure you are satisfied. Anakin takes great pride in how he treats you after sex. You want dinner? He’s on his way, you want a bath? You won’t move a finger. You want more? Say the word and this man will be on top of you again. When he is particularly rough with you, and if you feel the urge to cry, Anakin will keep you close to his chest and caress your hair, kiss your tears away, and tell you how proud he is of you for allowing him to use your body, and that no matter what he says/does during sex, he loves you.
“You did so good, darling. Let me take care of you now, okay? Let me spoil you.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Dilf!Anakin loves his hands. I see him as a very physical person, so he enjoys touching you and feeling your warm skin underneath his fingertips (even if he has a prosthetic arm but… that’s a story for another day). He gropes, squeezes, slaps, touches anything within his reach, He will always have a hand on your waist, your hips, on your lower back, and since age made him a hopeless romantic, holding your hand.
His favorite body part on you is either your breasts or your legs: The first one because like I said, he loves to touch. He will cup your tits and play with them, jiggle them; and of course, Anakin could spend entire hours toying with your nipples until they are puffy, swollen, and aching… ready for him to suck them. The second one goes in a similar fashion, he loves to caress your legs from your ankles to your thighs, but he also loves to have them wrapped around his hips as he fucks you and squeezing his head as he eats your pussy until you cry from overstimulation.
“I could die happily in between your tits…”
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Before he wasn’t a big of coming inside; it was messy, risky, too many problems. But Dilf!Anakin loves to come inside you. Not only because he has a huge breeding kink— but because the sensation gives him ten more years of life. Don’t get me wrong though, Anakin will gladly allow you to swallow his cum (which with age get’s heavier, more sticky, and less liquidy) and it’s not a secret that he enjoys covering your tits and ass with cum. But let’s be honest, this man will always prefer to cum inside, to let you feel how good he fills you, and definitely with the intention of getting you pregnant.
“I’m gonna fill you up real good, darling— gonna fuck you until you are full of my cum, uh-uh? Until you are round and swollen with my baby.”
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Okay. Okay. This is dirty.
Anakin likes it when you call him “Daddy” while he fucks you, sure. But, there is something that he never really thought about until he started formally dating you and that is… being called “Dad” instead of “Daddy” during sex, and not even during sex!
He knows it’s wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be attracted to it, but he is. It gets worse when sometimes due to the age gap between you guys, he ends up scolding you like an actual dad would do. He would rather die than ask you to do it, but the ick is always there. The dirty thought is constantly circling around his head. He wants you to call him dad and cry for him to fuck you harder, the mere idea gets him hard as fuck and he has to rush and find you to release the tension. Maybe one day he will gather the courage to speak.
“You are taking Dad’s cock so well… do you like it, baby? Say it.”
E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
I’d say very experienced. Age gives you that experience, and it’s no news that Anakin had multiple partners before he “settled down”. He knows how to use his dick, his hands, his tongue… yeah, he knows how to find the clit and what to do with it. Dilf!Anakin knows what he is doing, and he will use that experience to make you cry and beg for more. Believe me, you will never experience better, bigger orgasms than the ones this man gives you.
“No one will fuck you like I do, sweetheart.”
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Either cowgirl or doggy; depends on his mood.
Cowgirl because he likes to see you work for it. The way your face melts into a burning pleasure, how your tits bounce, and despite you controlling the pace he still can control you. Anakin will slap your thighs, use your ass as leverage to bounce you up and down his cock, and definitely suck your nipples while you ride him.
Doggy for when he is feeling more dominant, frustrated, even angry; Anakin will yank your hair, slap your ass, even your back if you let him. This is when he is the most rough. The view of your ass and thighs jiggling every time slams his hips against yours gives him all the relief he needs.
“That’s it, ride my cock dollface. Bounce your tits for me.”
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)
Definitely more on the romantic side than goofy. He can still smile and chuckle, but more at you than with you. He will mock you constantly, and most of his jokes are derogatory. However, Anakin will be dead-serious if he is in full dom-mode. Not even a smile, and if he smiles it’s going to be a mean, venomous smile (probably followed up by an insult).
“Look at you darling, all stupid for my cock. You are gorgeous.” He says with a breathy chuckle, kissing your sweaty jaw.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He keeps it trimmed, but not completely shaven. When he was young, he was barely groomed, so you can imagine the difference. Now, he shaved not because he thinks it’s better, but because he feels more comfortable keeping it at bay. Plus he hates how itchy it is when he shaves completely. If you want him to grow it more, he’ll do it, he isn’t picky in that manner.
On you, he doesn’t really care; I can see him having a preference for his partner not shaving regularly (I don’t know why, Dilf!Anakin just gives me those vibes). But as long as you are comfortable he is pleased.
“I don’t care about that baby, I’ll eat your pretty pussy anyway.”
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)
Very intimate! He likes to make it private, memorable, even if you fuck a hundred times Anakin will do his best efforts to make sure you are satisfied. From the first time, he emptied his load inside you the words “I love you” escaped his lips; and that’s a trait that never wore off. Since his youth, Anakin was extremely passionate and obsessive, and the few times he fell in love he was head over heels for his partner. For a while he thought that part of him died (after his divorce and the bad experiences of an unhappy marriage), but when he met you and began dating you, that side of him lost gone was back. Like I said he is a hopeless romantic and he will spoil you rotten.
“I love you, sweetheart. You make me the happiest man in the world.”
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He used to jack off twice a week, maybe three if he was too stressed (either work or the twins who got on his nerves). He isn’t a fan of it so he would do it quickly, He isn’t a fan of visual porn so he might just use his imagination and call it a day.
Now, that he is with you, he can use you instead.
“Your hand looks so tiny around my cock, baby.”
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Breeding: Speaks volumes. Anakin realized with age that he wanted a larger family, but after the twins, his ex-wife wasn’t thrilled with the idea of another baby. You are young, pretty, fertile. After discussing it and after you gave him the green light, Anakin will be a menace. Fucking you over and over not only because he wants you and loves your body, but because he is dying to see you carry his children. The ownership undertones that come with it are absolutely thrilling.
Cum play: He is nasty. He is disgusting. He is filthy. He loves to gather the cum that leaks down your thighs and push it back with his fingers. He would even lick it and spit it in your mouth. Anything related to cum is okay with him. Anakin thinks that men who are disgusted with kissing their girl after she gave them a blowjob aren’t real men.
Free use (this one includes other kinks such as degrading, housewife kink, ownership, even dumbification but I will use it as a generalization): This is more of a guilty pleasure. And once he makes sure you are comfortable with it he won’t stop. Anakin will be rough, pushing you against the kitchen counter, against the shower wall, against his desk just to fuck you, claiming is his right as your boyfriend. You aren’t allowed to deny him (and being honest, you don’t want to), and if you try to push him away, he will punish you by fucking your face or slapping you with his belt.
“Shut up and spread your legs for me, that’s all you are good for.”
L = Location (favorite places to do they do)
He prefers his house because is more intimate, he can take his time, but Anakin won’t deny an opportunity. He can (and has) fuck you in his car, your place, in a restaurant’s bathroom… if he can make it quick he can put up with fucking you in a more public setting. His favorite places will always be his bed and the couch.
“You have five minutes to cum before the waiter returns or I’ll leave you high and dry here.”
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
He is still as horny as when he was 20; so, pretty much anything you do will turn him on. He has a preference for when you do housework, he thinks you look hot (and it kind of makes him feel guilty), and when you are mad. Anakin is hard as a rock when he sees you arguing on the phone with one of your coworkers, that fiery attitude, witty responses, and aggressive body language… be ready for a long night.
“I can’t help it, you look so gorgeous making dinner for me…”
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
Dilf!Anakin is still very much possessive. So, sharing you is a big, red no. He is strictly monogamous so the thought of a threesome of seeing you with someone else, or even him being with someone else makes his stomach twist with jealousy. You belong to him and him only.
“Say you belong to me. Say it. Scream it so the whole neighborhood knows only I fuck you this good.”
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
When he was young he was more of receiving, he was kind of selfish and pretty much an idiot. Now, he loves to eat you. Anakin could spend hours buried in between your legs, lapping at you and forcing orgasm after orgasm until you are so drowned in pleasure you can’t even talk. This old bastard knows how to use his tongue well. He sucks on your clit, fucks you with his tongue, and he loves to spit on your pussy. Still, he is very much a fan of receiving so he will never deny you if you want to suck him off. He can be a little rough so prepare for a lot of facefucking.
“You taste so fucking good, come for me, darling. Make a mess on my face.”
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He is fast and deep. He likes to see your body shiver with pleasure and when he gets rough he throbs at the view of your tight pussy struggling to accommodate his size. When he is feeling more gentle he will slow down but normally he still fucks with his whole soul in it.
“Take it, take my cock like a good girl, okay?”
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
If he needs it, he will take it. Not his favorite but it works. Anakin will prefer a quickie if he has to leave in a bit and he is really horny, for example, he has to pick up the twins in 20 minutes, or he has to leave for work in 15 minutes. He prefers to take his time to pleasure you and he firmly believes in the importance of foreplay.
“I gotta go dollface, let me fill you up before I do.”
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
He is more versatile now. He listens to your proposals and opinions. The only risk or experiment Anakin will never consider is a threesome. You managed to introduce new activities to your sex life and Dilf!Anakin learned that being pegged and having his ass eaten is actually pretty good. If his partner wants to try something new, he will try it first before he judges it.
“Where did you even buy a strap that size?”
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)
Three to four rounds. But they are long and heavy. Like I've said before he prefers to take his time. Anakin will at least make you come one or two times before he does. Even overstimulates you if he feels like it. Each round varies on his mood as well! From 40 minutes to almost two hours. He always says there’s no rush. He can go from 9 to 5, 5 to 9.
“Gimme me another one, princess. Just one more okay? And it’s done.” (it’s a lie!)
T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Young Anakin was stupid. He used to say he would never allow a toy to replace his cock but now he is more than happy to leave your hands tied up and press a bullet vibrator against your clit. He will even make things that aren’t toys into toys. This one time he won a back massager at a Christmas lottery at work, and he used it on your for hours. The massager was kinda shitty so the motor burnt after an hour or so, and multiple times he has used the handle of your hairbrush to fuck you. He isn’t opposed to toys on him, and his favorite (embarrassing!) is a prostate stimulator you surprised him with.
“Spread your legs further baby. if you can fit my cock in you, you can fit this.”
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He loves to tease. He is so mean when he feels like it. Anakin won’t stop until you are begging for him to let you come, for him to stop, for more… it makes him feel young again and gives him a surge of power that keeps him going.
“You can take it, shut up. I’m not even halfway done with you.”
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He isn’t loud but he groans and moans with that husky, deep voice of his. When he is about to empty himself inside you he might get slightly louder, more aggressive even. He is very talkative though. He will never shut up with both praises and degrading.
“I’m gonna come inside you baby— don’t fucking move. I’m gonna fill you up— fuck— real good…”
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He is into anal play. And it’s entirely your fault. When you finger his ass while he is fucking you missionary, he climaxes almost instantly. He wasn’t sure in the beginning but he is so happy he listened to you. Subsequently, he also enjoys having his ass eaten.
“You are such a dirty whore eating me like that.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
OH— 8.5 inches, not 9, God isn’t that graceful. It’s more thick and slightly curved upwards. Uncut. Due to age his balls are heavier and his sack hangs a bit but it’s hotter. Even his dick is dilf material. His pubes are a slightly darker blonde color than his hair and he has a pretty vein on the side that pulses every time he comes.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit.”
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
High. High. High when he is next to you. He is a horny old man. I won’t say he fucks you daily because you both have work schedules and things to do, but he will gladly fuck you daily if he has the chance. You make him feel like a hormonal teenager all over again.
“It’s not my fault you are so hot, dollface. I just want to make you scream my name all day.”
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)
He sleeps until you are asleep. He makes sure you are comfortable and pleased. Anakin loves spooning so prepare for him to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his face on your neck. When he sleeps he snores a bit so sorry if that’s a problem… it is not, shut up. Cuddling and waking up tangled in each other's arms is always guaranteed with Dilf!Anakin.
“Sleep well baby, you did soo good. You make me so proud, I love you.”
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#dilf!anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin star wars#anakin skywalker one shot#anakin skwalker#anakin skywalker x y/n#anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin skywalker x you
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hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.
im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!
bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)
you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.
that explains a lot.
and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)
"evenin', duckie."
"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."
john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.
"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.
"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.
"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...
"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."
"anythin' for you, duckie."
list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner
shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.
"all ok, john?"
"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.
"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.
"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.
"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."
"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.
"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.
30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?
john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.
that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.
john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.
"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.
you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.
"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.
"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."
--
ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.
#john price#price#cod price#captain john price#captain price x reader#price x reader#john price x reader#captain price#price imagine#price headcanons#price one shot#john price x you#captain johnathan price#john price x y/n#tornadothoughts
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Heatwave
CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS
Summary: Santiago and you try to occupy yourselves during another heatwave in Florida.
Rating: Explicit, edging, bratty-ass behavior from one Santiago.
Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you)
Word Count: 4,000
Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' masterlist
At what point does a spiking high temperature no longer count as a heatwave and just becomes the new average temperature for the local area. Is it after the third or sixth heatwave in a month? And for that matter, how many record breaking high temperatures can one summer have in store for a state that is already known for its hot climate?
Fuck! Why did he move back here again?
Santiago is melting. Lying slumped against the cool flooring of the bedroom where the breeze reaches. He's stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing but his boxers and staying far away from any walls because they are fucking radiating heat. At one point he's pretty sure he saw the edges of the walls wobble from the inferno temperature raging outside... either that or his vision is blurring out on him.
It must be what? 150 degrees, 200?? He doesn't care what the weatherman is reporting, there's no fucking way it's only 110 out there.
Leaning his head back down on the cold wooden flooring for reprieve, he can't remember the last time Florida got so hot. (If it has, he hasn't been here to see it).
Shit, it must be even hotter than that time you drove him down to the airport, what was it now, ten or twelve years ago? It got so fucking hot that the radio was warning about staying away from the highway because the tarmac was at risk of melting.
No one in their right mind would've gone out on the road that day. Except you of course. In your shitty little Volvo, with a broken A/C and a clutch that creaked with every change of gear. It's lucky the old piece of junk made it to the airport at all, and nothing short of a miracle that you made it there in time.
He can still see it in his mind's eye. The way your hair was matted with sweat as you pulled up to the drop off point. Still remembers how his old t-shirt was glued to every inch of his sweaty back as he peeled himself off the passenger seat. How, even as disgusting as the two of you felt, drenched in sweat and smelling like two dumpster diving raccoons, having been trapped on the highway for over an hour in that heat, you had held onto his torso as if you were never going to let him go. Your pinkie wrapped around his, so tightly, he was sure the blood circulation was entirely cut off as you told him in no uncertain terms: "You better fucking come back home in one piece, Santiago."
A smile breaks out across his face at the memory. From a distance he can hear the familiar sound of your footfall from the hallway, followed by your voice echoing all the way upstairs as you call out for him.
"Santiagoooo!"
If it wasn't for the heat, he'd call back in response to you. But all the strength is zapped out of him. Plus, he suspects that the reason you're calling for him is to rope him into helping Frankie with the latest crazy home project the man's set on finishing this weekend (and in this heat Santiago's not going anywhere near that).
"Honey." The endearing nickname has him smiling even wider. His mouth parts, just about to respond to you when he hears the rest of your sentence.
"Frankie needs help sanding down the fence."
Bingo.
No way in hell he's responding now.
He can hear you opening and closing doors all over the house in search of him. You'll find him eventually, but it doesn't mean he's not going to take his time enjoying the last few moments of being in the safe shelter out of the sun.
There's a soft click as the door to the bedroom opens. From his limited view on the floor, he sees glimpses of your feet from the corner of his eyes as you march in front of him until you're standing above, looming over his form.
"Santiago. I was looking for you everywhere."
He lets the hand resting on his thigh slide down to the front of his boxers without thought and that catches your immediate attention.
There's a sharp and sudden inhale from you, as if the air is spiked. You look like you've forgotten how to breathe properly.
You liked that huh? The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he holds eye contact with you.
"Sorry, must've dozed off."
"Har, har. Stop lounging around half naked and acting like a thirst trap. Frankie needs help with the fence."
"It's 200 fucking degrees. I'm not going to do that. Frankie can finish his home improvement project when Armageddon isn't happening outside."
You shoot him a small frown. Arms crossing in front of your chest.
He pats the space on the floor right next to himself, as he continues. “Come lay down with me for a second to cool down. You look like you might be overheating. Don’t wanna get heatstroke or anything. Frankie can wait a few minutes.”
You don't move from the spot, making no move to join him. "Poor Frankie is doing all the work."
Santiago's itching to retort that there's nothing "poor" about Frankie's situation. Man is having the time of his life out there. He loves doing these projects.
But Santiago keeps his mouth shut. Because he knows if he doesn't, he'll inevitable set you two up for a back and forth of who's right and wrong, who wins and who's losing the argument, trying to one-up each other the rest of the afternoon. And it's not that Santiago doesn't absolutely love doing that with you but...
Peering up at you, the way your lips are swollen with heat and parted as you look at him, Santiago has a much better idea of how he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon with you.
"Just a little bit, sweetheart," he says, doing his best to sweet talk you as he pats his free hand over the same spot on the floor in invitation. "Come sit with me for one minute, and I promise I'll go help Frankie okay?"
Glancing over your shoulder, you throw a quick glance over the window, probably to check in on Frankie.
"Just a minute, okay?"
"Mhmm. Just one."
It doesn't take more persuasion from him than that. Next thing he knows, you're walking over to him. Soft steps and an even softer gaze in your eyes. Then you sink down on the floor and sit down on the spot right where he patted.
That was... surprisingly easy.
He'd expected more resistance from you. Was fully prepared to do a filibuster marathon to try to convince you to join him. Hadn't quite expected you to just... give into him the way you just did. He blinks up in surprise, at your face mere inches away from him. He's not fully sure what just happened. You've never turned down an opportunity to put up a fight with him before.
You stare down at his chest and bare stomach, lingering there. You swallow down reflexively as you take him in with heated eyes.
Huh...
Santiago knows the effect he has on women. He just never knew he had that effect on you.
As arrogant as it sounds, he knows he's a good looking man. Knows that he's charming to boot. But the relationship between the two of you, for all the love that you had held for each other, had always remained platonic back in the day. You don't look at him the way other women do. And Santiago doesn't flirt with you the way he does with other women. Those were the unspoken rules you two had set for each other from the start and it's all you two have ever known.
And while things have changed now. While Santiago's seen the heated looks you give him when he's in bed with you, your relationship has remained largely unchanged outside of it.
You still pull him up on his bullshit when he's earned it. Never hesitate to square up with him in a competition for anything.
This... This is new.
He taps his bare thigh, almost experimentally to test his theory. He doesn't miss the way your pupils dilate with interest, and as always he can't resist the urge to goad you.
Not when you're eyeing him so appreciatively, in a way that you've never done in the past in all your years of friendships until recently. He figures he's earned the right after all this time to be a little bit obnoxious and revel and preen in the attention from you.
"Cariño," he calls out, until your eyes pulls back up to his face. "Eyes up here," he teases.
You roll your eyes, smacking him in the chest. It's supposedly a playful gesture, but you do it with enough strength that it knocks the breath out of him.
"I know," you retort, but your eyes drift back to his chest and then continue downwards and the attention has heat spearing through his limbs.
"You're still looking," he teases, and his hand snakes down over the plane of his thighs, reveling in your attentive gaze. "Didn't know you were such a perv."
By now you'd usually retaliate or cuss him out, but you don't.
Instead, you continue to stare, eyes blown wide as if you've been cast under a spell, mesmerized.
He palms himself through the front of his boxers, and he can feel the rush of blood rushing down and away from his head as his cock stirs to hardness. If Santiago was considered full of himself before this, it's nothing compared to how he feels in this moment with the way you're looking at him. Your expression blank, like the sight of him has made you lose your ability to speak. Mouth parted, the glistening pink of your tongue peeking out, as if you would devour him if he'd let you.
"Should I give you a show then?" he asks.
After all, if you want to look, he's more than happy to give you something proper to look at.
You nod with an eagerness that has your head bouncing up and down like the bopping bobble head toy Frankie keeps on the dashboard. Santiago lets out a laugh that's more breathless than he had expected from himself. He blames it on the heat.
Dragging down the edge of his boxers, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers wrap around the base of himself and his cock jumps in response to the touch.
Shit, that's good. A sweet spike of pleasure runs through him at the languid touch, and he feels breathless with it. His cock is slick with precome that drips down the length with each slide of his hand.
Running his hand up the rigid length, the calloused skin graze against the sensitive skin. Pleasure ooze and drips inside his chest and down his limbs, until his legs tremble with it. Santiago's touched himself countless times before but it's never felt like this before.
Maybe it's the heat that's getting to him. Or maybe it's the way you're inching closer with each passing second until you're practically straddling him on his lap. You and your soft and perfect thighs pressing down on his own, keeping him pinned onto the floor as he tries to keep going. The heat he can feel from between your legs, through the thin layer of cotton that's pressed onto his bare skin. Yeah... maybe it's that.
Santiago goes slow and languid as he touches himself for your benefit. And as ridiculous as it sounds it is for you. Because if it wasn't for you, there's no chance in hell he'd be going this slowly. He'd be fast and almost sloppy, squeezing down on his cock until the desperate need that's riding his spine lets go with his climax. If you weren't here, gorgeous eyes all focused on him, with a look that he wouldn't even let himself dream of in the past, he wouldn't want to prolong it the way he is.
Even now, with the strained effort of taking it as slow as he can possibly stand, he's not entirely sure how long he'll last. He feels like he's on a precarious edge, his climax taunting him, swelling up and simmering with a slow burn in his stomach.
Your torso tilts forward, squirming in his lap, with the tiniest movement every time his hand moves upwards, in time with his strokes.
You're practically riding his thigh, and Jesus fucking christ, that isn't helping Santiago's situation right now. At this point you're both going to come dry humping each other like horny clueless Mormons on their wedding night.
"Sweetheart, wait--" he tries, but you press yourself down on his thigh all the same, and he can feel your sweet slick drip down on his thigh and coat him with it. All he's capable of is a deep and shameless moan.
His cock twitches in his hand, and for several alarming seconds, Santiago thinks that's it. That it's already too late and he's going to come right then and there, spilling himself all over his hand and stomach.
Santiago squeezes down hard around the base of his cock to stave off the needy sensation.
"Shit," he hisses. "Fuck. fuck. Sweetheart, gonna need you to--" he doesn't finish his sentence. Can't spare the seconds it would take to properly think. One hand is already reaching out under your dress (thank god you're wearing a dress) wedging your panties to the side, his other pulling you closer by your waist until your pussy is lined up with the swollen head of his cock.
He doesn't even have time to move his hand in place to grip at his cock before you push down on him. Heat streaks through his insides until his lungs feels like they're burning. Your perfect pussy envelops all of him, every single throbbing aching inch with slick warmth and perfect pressure until his vision whites out.
Fuck, why is he so fucking sensitive.
He can't... fuck, he can't hold on. A desperate groan tears out of his throat and he buries his face into your neck to hide from the sensation that has him surrounded.
He thrusts upwards, canting his hips until you're taking all of him.
Pleasure singes his entire spine, and it burns him alive with it. The heat is unbearable, sweat is plastered to his back, but it doesn't matter. Santiago's skin is damp and sticky, but he's still pressing you closer. Wants every inch of you, warm and gorgeous and so fucking soft, pressed against him in every way he can have you, and he's still not sure if that'd be enough.
Wants to make up for every year, hour, minute and second that he'd wasted of his life, being away from you. Wants all of that even if it kills him.
Planting his feet on the wooden floor for leverage, he grabs your hips to force you down as far as you can take him. Until your head throws back with a high-pitched whine, palms pushing down on his chest as if it's too much for you to handle, and he lets go, sinking down his hips back towards the floor, until only the tip of him rests inside you.
He gives you a handful of seconds to catch your breath. Then he grabs your waist and push you down on his cock. Again, and again. To the gorgeous sounds of your keen moans and whines all blended into one, as you're sobbing out his name.
Forceful, deep thrusts that has tears pushing in the corner of your eyes. He keeps going as the sweet aching heat has him drunk and euphoric on you, with each and every rise and cant of his hips.
He's not going to last. Shit, shit, he's not going to last like this.
But that's okay. Because judging from the way you're grinding against him. Needy and desperate. Your cunt squeezing so tight around his cock it makes it hard to breathe, you're not going to last either.
His hand strays down below your stomach, sliding between your legs until his thumb catches at your clit, slippery and wet, and absolutely dripping for him. You sob at the contact, wracked in shivers as he continues to rub smooth little circles over it, and he can feel just how close you are.
You're perfect. Eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back in surrender, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat and oh fuck Santiago was not prepared for this.
His brain stalls out, hand stopping as his movements comes to a still to take in the sight before him because...You are so fucking beautiful like this.
"Santiago, what the fuck, make me—" you're slapping his shoulder, voice high pitched and desperate that makes his spine tingle as you grind on him. "Fuck make me cum, don't be an ass."
Fuck what is he doing?
Santiago's not sure. Not sure why he's stopped, even as every nerve and muscle in him is screaming for him to chase after the pleasure until both of you are coming.
Not sure why he's just sitting there dumbfounded. Except, this is everything he's wanted for so long that he's denied himself and he realizes that right now— it's here, landed in his very lap. You're the woman he's loved for so long, no matter how much he's denied it to himself, and he just wants to make this moment last.
All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end.
"Wait, sweetheart," he murmurs, even as you squirm from his grip pinning you in place. "Just give me a second. Want to remember this," and he means it with more sincerity than he ever thought he had left in him as he stares up at you in complete awe.
He wants it to last.
Not just out of a ill-placed sense of pride. Not just because he knows you're going to give him shit for coming too fast.
He just wants this to last. Wants you in his arms like this. Wants you to look at him, just like this, like you need him to survive, more than your next breath. This. This. This. He wants it to last forever.
You don't listen to him though. Of course you don't, because you never make it that easy for him. Your hips roll against him, grinding with desperation until his cock nudges something devastatingly perfect that has him convinced his brain is melting.
Shit, he has to stop. Oh fuck oh fuck, he's too close—
"Stop stop," he warns, hand gripping down on your hips to stop you "Boa, Stop— fuck you're gonna make me—"
But it's too late. It's already happening. He can feel his cock pulse and throb as he spills himself inside of you, shuddering through his orgasm— and fuck this was not how it was supposed to go down.
Everything slows. It's everywhere, rushing through him with a chaotic frenzy as it wrings him dry. The euphoric sensation overcrowding everything else, and his head feels like he is going to split with it. He can't think. Can't breathe.
But even in his post-cum haze he knows you still haven't come and he can't have that.
Santiago grits through it. Biting down and clenching on his jaw to ride through the over-brimming sensation that threatens to burst out of his skin as he continues to thrust into you.
Oversensitive and overstimulated. Every slick slide of your perfect pussy has him gasping for air. It's too much. Like live wires are running through his skin and every cant of your hips against him sets every receptor in his brain on overdrive. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel every fraction of you wrapped around him.
And it's perfect and it's good. And it's just so fucking much.
You're burning hot. He feels feverish and on the brink of delirium from the heat. Like he's inside a live furnace, but he doesn't want to stop. Can't stop. Not until he's seen your eyes roll into the back of your head. Not until you've come apart for him.
Locking his arm over the small of your back, he flips you over, onto your back. Pushing his free hand between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing rough little circles on your clit again.
He keeps going, pushing inside even as every nerve at him is screaming for respite. Santiago doesn't stop though. You're so close, and he just has to hold on even as each flutter and squeeze of your cunt is pushing him over the edge of too much.
Doesn't stop even as your gorgeous eyelashes flutter dramatically, your eyes rolling back as you kick your leg out and finally, finally comes on his cock.
The sensation of your climax punches the last breath out of him. He can hear himself whine pathetically into your neck.
The overwhelming tightness of you, your pussy squeezing and clenching down over and over, as if you're trying to wring and empty him out of anything he has left him. It brings him to his knees and collapses into you.
Everything feels sticky and clammy. Both of you drenched, as he's pinning you down with his weight. He feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. It doesn't make sense and shouldn't even be possible. But it certainly didn't help him in his efforts to move
To the protest of his exhausted limbs, Santiago rolls over to lay on his back next to you there on the floor. Both of you sweaty and panting.
God this might have been a bad idea.
It was too fucking hot even before all the physical exertion, now it's like an inferno. He's seconds from passing out. But at least the floor is marginally cooler against his back than the surrounding air, while you're laying there catching their breath.
Every inch of him thrums with pleasure, and his body practically tingles with the afterglow of his climax. But he can't help the scowl on his face. He's mentally cringing.
He came too fast.
Shot his load like some overeager virgin.
And there's no fucking way you wouldn't have noticed that he came before you. It's only a matter of you catching your breath, before you start giving him shit about it.
He lies there, staring up at the ceiling, preemptively trying to come up with some kind of defense or comeback but nothing comes to him. The only thing that fills his head is the image of your eyes from seconds ago, gazing down on him, looking at him the way that deep down, through all those years of platonic friendship, for all the way he's tried to repressed it, he's always wanted you to look at him.
It's so fucking stupid, but his stomach flutters pleasantly at the memory.
"Hey, Santiago...?"
He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face trying desperately to pull himself together. Because even though he knows it's coming. Right now he feels too naked and raw, without protection to brace himself at whatever joke you're sure to make next at his expense.
Feels a little bit too exposed after that perfect moment of having everything he never let himself acknowledge that he wanted right there in his arms.
He swallows, bracing himself for the witty remark, as he responds to you with a weak, "Yeah?"
You don't say anything.
Instead, he feels just the barest touch against his hand, and he looks down. Your fingers slides against the heel of his hand, searching for his hand before you find his pinkie and curl around it. He drags his eyes back towards your face and you have the softest smile on your sweaty, gorgeous face.
"I'm glad you're here," you say, there's no sarcasm there. Your voice is soft and quiet, and so sincere.
He doesn't know what is happening to him but his chest constricts and is drawn so tight it's painful. And suddenly he's blinking back tears. Call him dramatic, but for a brief moment Santiago swears the chest pains are a sign of cardiac arrest, until you grip his pinkie tighter and the pain eases.
"Yeah...." Santiago nods. Has to clear his throat before he can get the rest of the words out from the lump that is lodged in his throat. "Yeah, me too. Sweetheart. Me too."
Sweat sticks to his back, and the heat is unbearable. But he doesn't want to move. Doesn't ever want to leave this spot with you lying next to him.
He'll never admit it out loud. But he knows why even though he hates Florida with every inch of his soul, he'll always find his way back here. Why no matter how far away he goes, a part of him will always be left behind here. A long long time ago in the drop off zone of Miami International, on a disgusting hot and sweaty day just like today, he made a promise. He promised that he'll always came back home to you.
Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproiblemss who came up with that DEVASTATING concept of the pinkie holding post-sex.
Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!
#oscar isaac#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#santiago garcia#santiago garcia x reader#santiago x reader x frankie morales#frankie morales#pedro pascal
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nobody compares to you
chapter 9
pairing: ellie x reader
synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?
content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of and allusions to physical altercations and violence, descriptions of alcohol, dealer!ellie, more loser!ellie, mentions of smoking and marijuana, ellie's POV, minors do not interact
word count: 3.7k
chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen
series masterlist
my masterlist
i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎
the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist
featuring the song “it might be you” by stephen bishop:
Four Days Ago
“Ellie, what the fuck! Oh, shit!”
“The fuck! Th-the fuck…is your problem!”
“Shit! Ellie!”
“Chang, get…this–fuck!–cunt…off of me!”
“El–ow! Ellie!”
“I heard what you fucking said to my girl!”
“What are–shit…motherfucker!”
“Ellie, stop!”
“You..fucking…cunt!”
“Yo, bro, get the fuck off of her!”
“Is that…all…you…can do?!”
“Alright, fuck! Enough! Stop!”
Two Days Ago
Ellie had been walking around campus with her hood over her head and eyes to the ground all day. She’d been ignoring calls & texts from her friends and clients and, to her growing annoyance, Daniela. She’d attended all her classes, but she’d sit as far back as possible and avoid any interactions or eye contact. During her breaks, she’d find some remote spot behind a building or in a secluded stairwell to smoke in private.
It was late afternoon now and Ellie’d just dashed out of her last class of the day. She didn’t want to go home to her apartment where she’d get ambushed by Jesse and, most likely as well, Dina. But she had nowhere else to loiter where she’d be able to sulk and smoke in peace, and her phone was also dying.
The walk to her and Jesse’s apartment was barely ten minutes from campus, but Ellie made sure to stretch it out to almost twenty. She walked four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator like she usually would. She couldn’t even hear the jingling of her keys over the deafening sounds of Kendrick Lamar blasting in her earphones as she unlocked the front door.
The previous evening felt completely surreal. Ellie would have assumed it was just some rage-induced nightmare if it weren’t for the throbbing pain in her black eye and bruised right hand. After Jesse was able to pry Frat Guy Adam off of her before he could do any real damage and hastily convince him that she was probably tripping off of this strong new strain she got, Ellie immediately shut herself in her bedroom for the rest of the night. The only thing Jesse could get out of her before she disappeared behind her door was, “I seriously can’t fucking believe she’s letting her fuck her again.”
As Ellie crossed the doorway of the apartment, the second verse of “HUMBLE.” was abruptly yanked out of her ears by Dina’s quick fingers.
“Jesus fuck—Dina!” Ellie fussed, irritated as she attempted to grab her earphones back.
Dina said nothing as she balled them up and shoved them into her back pocket.
“How the fuck did you even know I was coming?” Ellie grumbled, knowing full well that she, Dina, and Jesse all indefinitely shared their respective locations with each other on their phones.
“Let’s talk, El.” Dina merely sighed.
Ellie scoffed in response and held out her hand.
“Can I have my earphones back?” She asked.
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“Ellie, we need to talk!”
Ellie didn’t reply as she stomped off towards her bedroom. She was about to slam the door in Dina’s face when she was met with Jesse’s back turned to her with sandpaper in one hand and a paint scraper in the other.
“Uhh, what the fuck, dude?” Ellie asked, dropping her backpack on top of her desk.
“I knew you’d leave your knife in here for the next two months or so if I didn’t do anything about it.” Jesse replied, sanding down the area where the knife once was lodged into the wall.
Dina leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Told him that you were too attached to that thing to not yank it out yourself, but he insisted on doing it and cleaning up your mess. As per usual.” Dina said, motioning to the small bucket of white plaster by Jesse’s feet.
“Yeah, I’m not cleaning all that up, though.” Jesse said, gesturing to all the dust now covering a portion of the bedroom floor.
Ellie shrugged off her hoodie and hung it on the back of a chair. She spotted her now-unstuck switchblade on top of some books on her desk and quickly pocketed it.
“Okay, well, can you guys maybe get out of my room now?” Ellie huffed, collapsing lazily onto her bed before grabbing a comic book on her bedside table that she had previously been reading the night before.
“We can,” Dina replied. “But we’re not going to.”
Ellie rolled her eyes and flipped a page.
Jesse and Dina shared a collective look and a heavy sigh.
“Dude, we gotta talk about yesterday.” Jesse insisted. “You seriously can’t keep ignoring this.”
“What the fuck even happened, really?” Dina asked.
“What, this one didn’t tell you?” Ellie replied, nodding towards Jesse’s direction without looking up from her comic book.
“All he told me is that you got your shit rocked by some frat guy trying to buy from you.”
“Hey!” Ellie said, sitting up and throwing her hands up in the air in indignation. “I fucked him up!”
“Then why do you have a black eye?” Dina questioned.
Ellie grumbled something unintelligible and sat back down to return to reading. Dina rolled her eyes.
“All I did was introduce him to her and she just suddenly wailed on him.” Jesse explained to Dina.
“I already knew who the fuck he was.” Ellie said behind her comic book.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Jesse recalled. “She did say she remembered him, and then she went nuts.”
“Who was this again?” Dina asked, eyebrows furrowing.
“Adam Patterson from Sigma Eta.” Jesse replied.
“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” Dina admitted.
“He came with our group to the diner the other night after the party,” Jesse said at the same time that Ellie said, “He was at Sterling’s with us.”
Dina’s knitted eyebrows straightened out in recognition.
“Oh, wait, was he that douchebag that sat next to—”
“Yes.” Ellie interrupted angrily.
Jesse and Dina immediately shared a look.
“Does this have anything to do with Abby Anderson?” Dina asked Ellie.
“Wait, what about Anderson?” Jesse questioned, eyebrows furrowing.
“You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me wh—“ Jesse started but was cut off when his phone started buzzing furiously.
He took out his phone from his back pocket and frowned.
“Ah shit,” He muttered. “I gotta help Sidney set up with the open mic.”
“Now?” Dina asked.
“It’s every other Tuesday and I promised her.” Jesse shrugged.
He walked over to Dina to give her a quick peck on the lips before turning towards Ellie, pointing at her sharply.
“When I get back, I want to hear why the hell you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” He demanded of her before leaving the room. A few seconds passed before they heard the front door close behind him.
Dina sighed, uncrossed her arms, and strolled over to sit at the foot of Ellie’s bed. She unconcernedly shoved Ellie’s dirty Converse to the side, earning her a kick from Ellie which she easily dodged.
“Can you stop assaulting every single person you come across, Williams?” Dina said after slapping the foot that tried to punt her.
“Can you get out of my room?” Ellie asked, ignoring her question.
“Did you really try to beat the shit out of that Adam guy ‘cause of—“
“Why are we still talking about this?” Ellie immediately interjected.
“Because you’re out here attacking innocent people because of her!”
Ellie remained quiet as she sat up straight and placed her comic book back on her nightstand before replying.
“He called her a fucking queer, D.”
Dina blinked and stared at her.
“He did what?”
“When we were at Sterling’s the other night.”
“Oh, shit.” Dina whispered. “Okay, well, maybe not so innocent then.”
“No, he’s fucking not.” Ellie seethed, fists clenching.
“Okay, but it’s not really helping anyone if you get kicked out of school ‘cause you’re out here beating the shit out of some grade-A douchebag who most definitely deserved it,” Dina added, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt. “Are you really that pissed off that she’s seeing Abby Anderson?”
“She can see whoever the fuck she wants. It’s really none of my business.” Ellie replied stubbornly.
“Ellie, c’mon, when are you going to face your fucking feelings for her for once?” Dina said. “You couldn’t man the fuck up when you were together, and now you don’t even speak to each other and you still won’t admit it.”
“Sorry that I’m too emotionally constipated for you.”
Dina rolled her eyes but then suddenly giggled.
“What?” Ellie asked.
“That’s probably the first time that you haven’t corrected me on the fact that you were together.”
Ellie kicked her softly.
“Oh, shut up.” Ellie retorted.
Yesterday
“You need to wrap that shit up better, El.” Dina said, gesturing to Ellie’s poorly bandaged right hand.
The sun was beginning to set, and Dina and Ellie’s shadows glided alongside each other on the brick pathway. Pink rays of light peeking from the sky hit Ellie’s freckles so beautifully that it almost distracted from her bruised eye.
“What? It’s fine.” Ellie shrugged.
“The wraps are already coming off, dumbass.” Dina noted.
“My bad, I’m not studying to be a doctor, unlike some people.” Ellie said, quickly murmuring the last part.
Dina merely rolled her eyes at this, refusing to engage further in Ellie’s growing vendetta against Abby Anderson.
They walked for about another ten minutes to reach the diner, chatting nonsensically about their classes and friends and some new asshole clients that Ellie had recently acquired.
Ellie had Dina laughing about her secretly charging some senior jock douchebags twice as much as usual for shamelessly hitting on her when they walked through the doors of Sterling’s. Ellie suddenly felt a strange ache in her stomach as they entered the restaurant. When she felt wary eyes on her, her discomfort was immediately explained.
Her gaze unintentionally met yours, her ocean green eyes widening in shock. The expression on your face mirrored her thoughts as her freckles turned bright pink. You both turned to your friends simultaneously in panic.
“Dina, what the fuck!” Ellie hissed.
“What?” Dina said, not realizing the situation they’d walked into.
“Did you do this shit on purpose?” Ellie demanded of her.
“What the hell are you going on about?” Dina asked, still clueless as she was busy looking around for the diner’s hostess.
“Can you please use your eyes for one second?”
“Wh—” Dina began but stopped suddenly when she saw what had caught Ellie’s rapt attention.
“Goddamn it,” Dina muttered. “Alright, hang on.”
Ellie watched as Dina marched over to the small table where you and Jesse were having dinner. Her eyes fell on you once more, remembering the last time she saw you with Abby Anderson. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt wash over her when she thought about the last conversation you’d had in the bathroom of this same diner, her eyes tearing away from your figure to stare at her old Converse.
God, I’m such a fucking dickhead.
She teetered back and forth on her feet as she felt shame seeping through her bones. She didn’t look back up until the diner’s hostess approached her.
“Hi, how many in your party?” She asked.
“Oh, uh, no. I’m here for pick-up?” Ellie replied.
“Oh gotcha, what’s the name?”
“It should be under Dina Woodward.”
“Okay! One second, ma’am.”
Ellie watched as the hostess headed to the back as Dina made her way back towards her.
“What the hell, D?” Ellie hissed.
“Seriously, I didn’t know!” Dina replied, throwing her hands up defensively.
“This isn’t funny!”
“El, I swear to god, I really had no idea they were gonna be meeting here.”
“You didn’t tell me that Jesse was hanging out with her tonight!”
“That didn’t seem like information relevant to you.” Dina said, crossing her arms.
“How is it not—”
“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, Ellie.” Dina pointed out.
Ellie looked taken aback as the hostess reappeared before them.
“Order for Dina Woodward?” She said, holding out a plastic bag.
“Yes?” Dina replied, but before she could reach for the food, Ellie had already grabbed it with her left hand and angrily shoved the entrance door open with her right.
She stomped away from the diner several feet away before Dina could catch up to her, far away enough for Dina not to catch the tears that she struggled to keep from falling.
Present Day
Ellie lays on her sheets, head at the foot of her bed and dinosaur sock-covered feet propped up on one of her pillows. She was senselessly and poorly strumming on her guitar. It was Friday evening and she was bored and all alone in the apartment, Jesse and Dina having gone out together on a movie date. She had contemplated going to the gym as she usually did whenever she was in a mood, but Dina had reprimanded her about her injured state enough that Ellie relented on spending a lonely night in. She strums lousily on the guitar with her injured hand, ignoring the throbbing of her wounded knuckles.
She’d finally texted Daniela back earlier that day, apologizing spiritlessly for not replying back sooner. She humoured Daniela’s flirty texts for a while until Ellie asked for Joel’s old jacket back, to which Daniela offered to come over to her apartment tonight to return. Feeling her intent, Ellie put her off by saying she had plans to meet up with several new clients all night and offered to meet up with her the next day instead. Ellie’d groaned when Daniela quickly responded with a text saying “it’s a date ;)” and immediately regretted the situation she’d pulled herself into.
Her fingers begin mindlessly plucking a succession of concordant chords, and it isn’t until a few moments later that she realizes she’d started to play an old love song that she remembers you’d liked so much.
It was an old 80s song called “It Might Be You” by Stephen Bishop. She’d often hear you thoughtlessly humming it to yourself or singing along to it when you’d put on your nearly ten-hour 80s playlist. She’d subsequently learned how to play it on the guitar to possibly serenade you with it eventually, only to never have the courage to do so when you were together.
Ellie exhales woefully, setting her guitar down next to her.
Why is she still everywhere?
She sits up to properly lay herself on her bed, flopping her head down onto her pillow before reaching for her phone that was charging on her nightstand.
Time to be a loser as usual again, Williams.
She sighs pathetically as she opens up Instagram once more, switching from her main account back over to br!ck_master2013. Even though Instagram already showed her recent searches (consisting only of you), she feels a pathetic sense of fulfillment typing out your entire username herself. Ellie taps on that same mirror selfie of yours which leads her to your profile.
You still have no new posts from the last time she checked, but she sees that you’d added something to your story sometime within the past day. She ignores the uneasiness in her stomach as she taps on the orange and purple circle to view what you’d posted.
You’d shared a few mutual aid posts earlier this morning (to which Ellie promptly saves to later donate to after her slight stalking), a picture that some of your old high school friends had posted of an up-and-coming band they were currently in, and a couple of new stories that causes Ellie to abruptly shoot up from her bed and promptly unplugging her phone from the wall.
“What the fuck?” She mutters out loud to herself, not in reference to the unceremonious way she stopped charging her phone, but to the Instagram stories that you were posting in real time.
Ellie taps furiously as she realizes that you were out tonight at the lesbian bar by campus, the Bow and Arrow. With Abby Anderson.
She makes a wild guess that you were likely drunk at the moment, judging by the silliness of your story captions. Your first bar-related story is a selfie you’d taken of yourself with the caption, “me going out to a bar to get smacked instead of being an old lady at home? quick, someone call the pope.” Despite the low lights of your environment, Ellie recognizes the shade of dark red lipstick you’re wearing.
That’s the lipstick she was wearing when—
Her thoughts are interrupted by her app automatically jumping to the next story, which was of you toasting your half-empty plastic cup with others that were being held up by faceless hands with the caption, “liquor, i hardly know her.” Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle out loud at your stupid joke. She would have bet her Jeep, her whole stash of weed, her beloved switchblade, and her entire precious comic book collection that the drink you had in your hand was a vodka cranberry.
Your next Instagram story drops a cast steel anvil down Ellie’s stomach.
It was a shaky picture of Abby Anderson making a mockingly pouty face towards the camera, holding out a credit card in one of her hands. It looked as if she and you were sitting at the bar, waiting to be served by a bartender. Your caption read, “hey siri, how do you beat up a buff, jacked lesbian who lives at the gym and won’t stop paying for your drinks all night.”
Ellie notices that you’d tagged Abby’s Instagram handle on the side and she promptly taps on it with trembling fingers. She huffs at her phone when she’s brought to Abby’s profile and sees that it’s set to private. She falls back onto her pillow and sighs.
“Ellie!!” You yelled after her as she stomped out of the Bow and Arrow.
She said nothing as she exited the bar and veered left into an empty backstreet lit only by the moonlight and a dim streetlamp.
Ellie walked further into the alleyway until she was a safe distance from any passersby. She took out a metal tin from one of her jacket’s front pockets and pulled out a tightly-wrapped joint. She tucked it between her teeth as she reached into a front pocket in her jeans for a lighter, promptly lighting the tip of the joint. She inhaled for a few seconds, letting the drug seep throughout her enraged body, then released an exhale towards the starry night sky.
She heard the agitated clicking of high heels and glanced down towards the main street to inspect whoever was approaching her. You were rubbing your hands up and down your arms, your favourite black boots nearly skipping down the alleyway to desperately generate heat in the frigid, unforgiving December air. You followed the familiar scent of lavender-laced marijuana into the dark street, spotting Ellie smoking alone.
Ellie watched as your shivering figure walked towards her, your despondent eyes eventually reaching her furious green ones.
“Smoking one of my js without me?” You teased.
“Your js?” Ellie asked, chuckling despite herself.
“Well, it’s my recipe.” You said, yanking the joint from her fingertips to place it between your lips which were painted with a dark shade of red.
“Oh, please, all you do is add buds of crushed lavender into them.” Ellie scoffed as the tip of the joint lit up once more from you taking a hit of it.
“Lavender buds are a key ingredient to creating these primo joints. It’s an intricate part of the process; ergo it is a recipe.” You insisted after blowing the residual smoke to the side.
“Besides,” You added. “You talk a whole lot of smack for someone who seems to copy my recipe all the time now, both for her clients and for herself.”
Ellie would have usually bantered with a witty retort, but she instead settled for an indignant huff.
After a few more hits, you handed the joint back to her.
“You done?” She asked you.
“Mhmm.”
She nodded, putting out the joint on the wall she was leaning against and placing what was left of it back in her metal tin. You stared at her as she did this, noticing that she was purposely refusing to make eye contact with you.
“Els.” You said.
“Mm?”
“Show me your hand.” You sigh.
“No.”
“El, babe, come on.” You insisted.
She exhaled and relented when her cheeks blushed at the term of endearment, holding out her right hand to you.
You took it in between both of yours, attempting to examine it under the dull yellowish light of the streetlamp. Your fingertips softly brush against her knuckles.
“Okay, not so bruised thankfully.” You murmured. “Does it hurt?”
Ellie merely shrugged in response.
“Els…” You whined at her stubbornness.
“I’m fine.”
You stared at her serious expression, still unable to get her to look at you.
“You dummy.” You chuckled lightly.
Ellie huffed.
You stroked her hand a couple more times before lightly placing a kiss on her slightly injured knuckles.
Despite the frigid winter air, Ellie immediately felt every part of her go up in flames. The only chilly part of her body was her hand which you’d brushed your cold lips against just moments before.
“Here,” She said, pulling her hand away from you so she could shrug off Joel’s old motorcycle jacket from her shoulders and place it on yours. “Baby, you’re fucking freezing.”
“El—”
“You’re freezing.” She repeated.
You smiled slightly before caving in to say, “Maybe a little bit.” Ellie chuckled.
“Elliie…” You began. “You didn’t have to do all that—”
“I know.”
“But—”
“I know.”
You tried to decipher her unreadable expression, your heart ready to burst as it beat rapidly in your chest.
“Why, Ellie? Why’d you have to take it to that extreme?”
Ellie’s ocean-green eyes were fierce and resolved. She brings her mildly bruised hand up to your face to intimately caress your cheek.
“You know why.” She whispers, finally meeting your gaze.
“I—”
The memory of staring into your eyes causes Ellie’s own to shoot open.
She’s still in her room, laying on her bed all alone with her phone on her chest and guitar on her side. The images of you in the alleyway of the Bow and Arrow replay alongside those of you and Abby so boldly displayed on your Instagram story tonight.
Ellie remains so engrossed in her own thoughts that she doesn’t notice all the hot tears rapidly streaming down her face. She grips her sheets and sighs.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” She whispers to no one.
Maybe she’ll forgive me one day.
author’s notes:
so sorry for taking so long to write this! life has been hectic and messy lately, plus y’all know i’m a bit insecure about writing ellie.
thank me by liking and reblogging this because tumblr is acting tf up on my laptop and i had to do the majority of this on my phone
adam's name originally was a reference to a background character in tlou2, but his last name is loosely inspired by some asshole dude i dated once back in college named adam (who i kind of also home-wrecked but i really don't regret doing so lol)
anyway, while you’re here, go check out the new smau series i’m working on called “almost like we knew” ♡︎
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@uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam
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#nobody compares to you series#ellie williams#dealer!ellie#ellie x reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#the last of us#tlou#the last of us part 2#tlou2#ellie fanfiction#Spotify#audio#belle speaks#belle writes
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send her my love (boxer!steve x fem!librarian!reader)
summary: a series of letters written after your recent breakup with steve, recounting your time apart.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the king of the ring ♡
main masterlist
tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey love letters.
a/n: pretty self explanatory, but libby’s letters are in pink, steve’s are in black ♡
“…how it hurt so bad to see her cry. i didn’t want to say goodbye. send her my love, memories remain. send her my love, roses never fade.”
—send her my love, journey
december 1992—march 1993
♡ ♡
12/05/92
Dear Libby,
Dear god I hope you open this. My hands are shaking so bad around the pen that I’m sure it’ll be all scratchy and shit, but I hope you know that I’m trying. I know how much you love letters, and after you stopped picking up my calls a few weeks ago…I figured this was the best way to reach you.
It’s been almost a month since we last saw each other. I hate thinking about that day. I hate thinking about you crying, and crying because of me. Because of something I did. I want you to know that I take full accountability for what I did, my love. That’s a word they said I should use more often. Accountability. “They” would be Big and Mikey. When they heard about what happened…I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them so mad. I think, for a moment, Big thought about coming out of retirement just to kick my ass into next year.
I patched up the wall myself. It was my mess to clean. The house seems so big and empty without you. I never realized it echoed before.
I don’t blame you for going home, baby. I know you’ve been wanting to go for a while. I know I drove you away. Pushed you away. I was so terrible to you and I see that now. I’m so sorry it took something so awful for me to see it. But you were right. I’m just like my father. And I needed someone to tell me that so I could realize how fucking stupid and awful I’ve been.
I hope you don’t mind that I used some of your stationary to write this to you. You left it on the desk downstairs. The shelves came in for your books and I put them up. Maybe when you come home, we can fill them up. I’ll buy you all the books in the world, my girl.
I’m sorry. Please know that.
Love,
Steve.
♡ ♡
12/10/92
Steve,
I was surprised to receive your letter. When I stopped answering and your calls stopped coming, I assumed we were done for good. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Despite my every want to feel the opposite, I’m still so terribly in love with you that my head hurts every waking moment of the day. I ache with it. Now that we’re apart, it bleeds. It has nowhere to go. I have nowhere to put it. But this was your doing, Steven. I don’t want you to forget that.
We both said terrible things that day, but what you did was unforgivable. You promised from the start to never raise a hand against me in anger. You promised to never become the thing you hated. I took your word as bond, and perhaps that was my mistake. Perhaps that’s my grievance to regret.
I miss you terribly, but this time apart will be good for us. It’s what we need. I’ve been away from home since I was 19. My brother stands taller than me. His voice is so much deeper than when I left. They’re getting computers at the library soon. Everything is so different, yet it all still seems the same. But even these tiny differences make me realize how long I’ve been away.
It’s snowing here in Hawkins and I helped mom put up the Christmas lights. Nick and I had a snowball fight. I felt ten years old again. Mom made hot chocolate and we watched Charlie Brown. I know how much you love Charlie Brown’s Christmas. But in that moment, I felt wonderfully calm. I felt okay. I felt happy.
And it made me wonder…were we happy, Steve? Or have we been pretending for too long?
I’m glad my shelves came. Use them for your trophies.
XO,
Libby
♡ ♡
12/14/92
Libby,
I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your letter in the mail. I’ve been scared to open it for the past two days. But the thought of going a moment more without knowing what you said would kill me. I can hear your voice so clearly when I read your words.
I’ll never forget what I did that day, Libby. It will always be a reminder of how awful I’ve become. And it will always be a reminder of who I don’t want to be ever again.
I know it doesn’t mean much now since I’m a few months too late, but I’m talking to someone. A shrink or whatever. Big recommended him. Apparently he specializes in “anger issues.” You know how I feel about sitting down and whining about my problems, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’ll help. If it turns me back into the man you loved then I’ll sit on that couch and talk for days.
You asked if we were pretending, and for me at least, I never pretended for a moment. There wasn’t a second that went by that I didn’t love you with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry if you felt you had to pretend. I’m sorry that you weren’t happy, and if you give me the chance, I’ll do my best to make you happy this time around.
No amount of trophies or champion belts in the world could make up for the loss of you, my angel. Please know that and believe it.
Yours,
Steve
♡ ♡
12/22/92
Steve,
I hate the way your words make my heart pound. All that love is still so strong, and it’s all still festering in me. But the heartache is just as powerful. The heartache is just as real.
I cannot give you a second chance just yet. I don’t think we’ve quite earned it. I don’t think we’ve yet reached a point where we’re both okay—on our own. I want to be okay even without you. I fear I’ve become so reliant on you to tell me where life will go, because my life has revolved around your own. I’ve never found my own path to wander. I want that opportunity now.
I went to the Hideout tonight. A Christmas party with some friends. I haven’t felt that young in years, Steve. I’m only 22.
Merry Christmas, Steve. And happy New Year.
XO,
Libby
♡ ♡
1/3/93
Libby,
Christmas was lonely without you. Mikey invited me to his "bachelor pad" in L.A for a "booze fest" (all his words). Gargling gravel sounded like a better time. For a minute, I thought maybe it might be good to get out. To be my own person, like you said. But everything just feels so dull now.
I thought about mailing your present, but I figured you'd just get upset. I want to respect your space and our time apart. My shrink says I have to find more time for other people's wants and needs instead of just prioritizing my own. Is that what I've been doing, Libby? Is that what I've always done?
I guess I kinda did. Took you away from the library and your home. I just wanted you with me all the time. I couldn’t imagine getting through that first string of fights without you. I don’t think I’d be the fighter I am today if I didn’t have you there.
I guess I’m talking about “me” a lot again. I’m sorry I do that.
I hope your Christmas was nice. Hope it snowed the way you like.
Love,
Steve
♡ ♡
1/28/93
Libby,
I haven’t heard from you all month. I thought I’d reach out again. For a few days, I had myself convinced my letter got lost in the mail. I waited for a “return to sender” to come. I think I would’ve preferred the honest rejection to your silence. It’s been so quiet here, my girl. I miss the sound of your voice in our home.
The fights mean nothing anymore. I won the Russell fight last week and felt nothing. Ever since you left, victory tastes stale. The referees declare the winner and I just hear static. Jesus, I miss you so much I started reading some of your sappy literature last week. It’s clearly having an affect.
I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re good. I miss you more and more with every passing day. I miss you more than I thought was ever humanly possible for one person to miss another. I never thought this deep of a feeling could exist. This “break” has taught me a lot.
Been talking to the shrink more too. He says I have an issue with authority and always need to feel in control because of how my dad was. Big fucking brain on this guy, huh? Must’ve went to school in Dumb Fuckville.
Sorry. I’m trying to be kinder. Not swear so much. Wish they made patches for anger like they do for nicotine. Something to ease the ache. But it’s hard to quit something you were born into. The Harrington rage doesn’t just disappear over night. But I swear I’m trying. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, baby. I’m doing my best to be better.
I hope I hear from you. I hope you’re alright.
I love you.
— Steve
♡ ♡
2/3/93
Steve,
I meant to write. I’ve been so busy now that I’m at the library full time again. I forgot how taxing it can truly be, but it’s like riding a bike. The smell of the books, the feel of the paper, the conversations you have with readers who don’t know where to look, or the ones who do and are searching for more. I forgot how important I feel between those stacks of books.
My girlfriends and I have been going out. They never got to celebrate my twenty-first with me, so we had a belated celebration a few weeks ago. We went to a bar in Indianapolis, took a bus the whole way there. The bar was loud and hot and sticky, and someone spilled beer all over my purse. I know you would’ve hated it, but part of me wished you were there. Bodies were pressing against each other on the dance floor, touching and smearing sweat—but all I wanted to feel was yours. Your familiar frame, right next to me. Only with you have I ever felt so secure.
Anyway, I got my first hangover, and that wasn’t fun. Especially because I’m still staying with my parents and they still think I’m seventeen. Nick tried to get me to buy him beer for his friends. I wish I could be this ‘cool’ older sister for him, but right now he doesn’t like me very much.
I watched your fight last week. There’s something so different in the way you move now. Your punches seem heavier, harder. You take more hits before you hit back. I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I always worry, Steve. I worry about what might happen if you take too many hits. All those concussions can’t be good. I’m no doctor, but I figure eventually, they’ll catch up to you. I don’t want to see that happen. I can’t fathom the idea of losing you like that. No matter what happens between us, I always want to know you’re well. Selfishly, I always want to know you're out there if I need to call.
I’m glad to know you’re trying, and that you’re still going to therapy. I think it’s very healthy, Steve, and I appreciate and value your honesty. And….I miss you too.
Yours,
Libby
♡ ♡
2/12/93
Libby,
There hasn't been a moment that's gone by since you left that I haven't wished I was with you. In whatever way that might be, all I've wanted is to feel your body next to mine. I miss your touch, your smell, your smile. I never want to know another kiss but yours. I never want to hold another body in my arms that isn't yours. I don't think I could stomach the thought of never having that again.
The longer the time between us lasts and the further the distance grows, the worse I ache for you. God I sound like a fucking dope. It's all those novels you left me, I swear I'm not this sappy. But I guess with you I am.
Please forgive me. Please come home. All I can do now is beg, and show you how hard I'm trying.
I love you, angel. There's nobody and nothing but you.
Love,
Steve
P.S. You're the best big sister. Nick will see that one day when his brain isn't full of beer and Playboy.
P.P.S. Happy early Valentine's Day, baby. I hope the flowers are okay.
♡ ♡
2/17/93
Dear Steve,
I loved the flowers, and I loved the sap. Reading your last letter brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time in a while, they were blissful. I cannot begin to describe the size of the welt in my chest. It feels bruised by your absence and my longing.
Despite every bone in my body yearning for you, I cannot come home. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't think you are, either. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while it pains both of us to endure it, I think they're right. Whoever "they" are.
In the spirit of all this honesty, I have to admit: Tom Marrow asked me out for Valentine's Day. And god damn you, Steve, I said no. I said no because I'm wilting without your sun shining on me, and I'm lost without you by my side. I said no because I'll never be able to look into the face of another man without wishing it was yours.
I said no because I know, one day (maybe soon, maybe not), I'll come home to you. Don't let that get to your head.
Love,
Libby
♡ ♡
2/22/93
Libby,
My heart has never suffered as many palpitations in all my high-risk athletic career as it did reading your letter. I hate the way the paper crumpled in my fist when I read about fucking Tom. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to abandon the jealousy that fills me when I think of you with another man. But I can admit, it reached a point even I don't like to think of. I was letting it control me. I'm trying not to do that anymore.
The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink. That's what you've reduced me to, my love. An animal searching for you in the earth.
Please come home. Please come back to me.
Yours,
Steve
♡ ♡
3/2/93
My darling Steve,
I'm coming home to you. Please unlock the door.
Yours always,
Libby
♡ ♡
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington au#steve the babysitter#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#joe keery fic#joe keery fanfiction#joe keery#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington angst#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington fluff#king steve#steve the hair harrington
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