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cigarett3wif3 · 1 day

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TOMB FOR TWO

Rockstar Leon S. Kennedy x model reader | AO3 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, drugs and alcohol addiction implied, Leon is scumbag i guess, blowjob, use of coke, deepthroat i guess, dirty talk. tags: @ivmp words: 2,934

notes: so.... dont do drugs/alcohol and idk i feel like i need to clarify, some stuff here i heard in real life directly from insufferable men, so don't interract with such kind of people for ur own good.

Leon loves ladies, he was always the kind of man who loved every woman, if she was attractive enough to his taste of course. Also, he considered himself a nice guy, but a lot of girls didn’t get him. It got a lot worse when he cheated on his ex-girlfriend, after that nasty breakup and a slap he received, it felt like she had put a curse on him. Maybe he is cursed, it would explain why his attempts to form established relationships always failed. At least the passion for music was always with him, no matter how hard it was for him and it has helped indeed him in many areas; gaining more ego and becoming finally a rockstar, which certainly has helped him find lovers to warm his bed.

In his mind, he has already created his own list of preferences, models were always a big ‘no’ cause pretty dolls in the majority were the most annoying ones in his honest and ‘humble’ opinion. A lot of them are anorectic, and Leon doesn’t need a girl whose only hard thing in her mouth would have been his dick. Also, pretty women are usually really intimidating and have high standards, he doesn’t want to risk a possible denial. Cool guys don’t get hurt.

But that list didn’t help him at all, it didn’t prevent him from getting involved with you so quickly. A model and you looked sick for his tastes, dark circles under your eyes and lack of any vivid light in them too. He put two and two together, probably you did often drugs and he didn’t know which ones, he never asked. Your first appearance was at one of the events where his band performed and you were bored to death, gaze leaped around the surroundings, trying to find something more interesting to linger on than whatever this place is. Your pupils were dilated as hell and your jaw was tensed, making those useless movements and biting inside of your cheeks. He didn’t give much thought and he was drunk already while your fingertips were tracing his jaw and a sparkle in your eyes was enough for him. And after all, you agreed to come with him. His expectations weren’t high, another quick one-night stand he would forget about, but after stepping into his apartment you got sick. Vomiting in his toilet until it became quiet and he decided to check, after all, he is a good guy, really. And he doesn’t need a corpse in his flat. Pulling your hair to tilt your face towards him and witness your exhausted expression; your lips parted with saliva glistening on them and circles under your half-lidded eyes got more evident and darker. All this combined led to him having the hardest boner he has ever had.

Your presence in his life only gave him a boner and a headache, also an urge to strangle and shake you like a doll, but he never had enough strength to leave you behind and forget everything related to you. He tried, his mind would fill with thoughts about you, leading to jerk off a lot when he is sober and not recording music. His drunk ass would always crawl back to you, after feeling your eyes on him everywhere even when he was smoking out of a bar. Those billboards with your face, promoting some products and looking ethereal, without sickness all over your face, feeling your gaze as if it was only directed towards him. Those photos were the reasons his legs always lead him to your place, finding you already hammered as much as he is, if not worse, more than happy to let him spill his load in your mouth or pussy. After all, Leon is a simple man, not a romantic one, romanticism has died within him after that ‘undeserved’ slap.

Needles were a big ‘no’ for you, explaining they can leave marks and they are scary, also those are used by drug-addicted people which you believed you aren’t. After all, you like them thanks to your dear and generous friend who shares them with you. While Leon was an old-fashioned man, he has always preferred booze, even after finding himself in weird situations without any memories, only with pain pulsing in his head and hangover. You didn’t understand that at all, it has never brought you any good sensations, also alcohol has a distinct smell you have always hated and there is nothing sexy about it. That’s why Leon was always simple in your eyes, a rockstar with little to no existent layers in his personality; one hand with the bottle and the other one on his dick. In the end, both can destroy many lives.

Of course, whatever you both had going on gave you the possibility to visit his concerts without spending a penny. Leon has never asked if you like his music though, but still, he believes it is good, after all, there wouldn’t be a big female fanbase over anything? So there was never a thought behind his eyes to consider your tastes. Besides, you didn’t attend often, always brushing off your runway shows to which he was never invited. Not like he needed to be there, but still it made him feel a little bit bitter. Other reasons were similar to ‘I don’t want to’ and if to be honest, this isn’t a valid reason for his calls to be ignored.

This time you didn’t have other options, nor Leon would let you skip his performance. Soon understanding it was a mistake, you shouldn’t be here, cause during the entire concert his attention was drifting in between his music and you, trying to find you among many women. Every time he notices you not listening to the sound the instruments create, it fills him with bitterness and annoyance. Time passed slowly, finally finishing performance and emptying his flask quickly. He was tempted to leave you alone, to not give any warning, and get another girl from the crowd, but also this would be risky for a lot of reasons; first, he doesn’t have any condoms, and second, groupies are annoying and he doesn’t want to deal with them for a quick fuck today. The only solution he came across was to leave this place earlier and push you into his car.

The ride is okay, the only noise is some music coming from the car stereo. He twitched a little bit with the switch before, but he didn’t really listen to whatever was on until he recognized his own song. A nice touch. “Your music sucks” you say, breaking the silence which was only filled with his voice coming from the radio. This is new for you, music is his job, and what does a model know about it? His face turns to look at you for a brief moment, he is driving and he doesn’t want to get himself killed cause of you. “It doesn’t.” Leon protests quickly, but your voice interrupts him again, making him groan and want to stop the car. To strangle you. People love him! His groupies would be green with envy if they ever got to know about you. “It does” you say, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking through the window before rolling it down and letting fresh air coming in. The wind noise is ear beating, enough to give him a headache, nor does it help with his mood right now. Bashing noise to his ears, but you don’t care. Your voice fills the room, too bad it is loud enough to catch on and it is not mixed with the sound of the wind. The road is dark, and it is already hard to drive after consuming alcohol, but your voice makes this worse. “Your music never changes, mundane, same melody. Boring even, and generic. I don’t like it”

Then you stay silent, Leon’s mind is buzzing with only two thoughts in it: what a bitch you are, how he wants to shut you up with his dick and he needs to calm down, to let off steam. That’s three or four though. Math wasn’t his forte.

He pulled over his car, almost stumbling over from it as the chilly night breeze hit his face, filling his lungs. Refreshing and sobering in some way. It is dark, he didn’t even notice how he moved to your side and opened the door, looking down at your face with a blank stare, while his slow mind keeps processing your words. You shift on the seat of the car to face him with a raised eyebrow, looking so annoyed and confused by his attitude. Leon isn’t sure why he was hurt by your words, but this look was not new for him; every time a sentence would leave his mouth, your face would express an annoyance as if he just said the dumbest thing possible. You are probably just trying to mess with him and this always made him hornier, his cock would start stiffening in his jeans and even this isn’t an exception, like one of Pavlov’s dogs he is. Or this is just alcohol talking.

The inside of the car enlightens your features and it is maybe the only thing so bright in such a dark spot right now of the road. His index finger brushes over your lower lip, tracing the contour of soft flesh beneath his thickened skin after years of playing guitar. He can’t help but stare at your mouth, admiring the lipstick on it, looking clean and emphasizing the shape of your lips. Too bad his digit smeared the color a little bit over the form. You don’t notice that thank God, cause he doesn’t need another comment from you. Silence makes you much prettier. Your hand reaches for his thigh, brushing over the inner part and the annoyance in your gaze quickly changes to interest as it slowly travels down to the bulge which started to form already. Leon doesn’t know what magic you use on him, cause it is much easier to get even half-hard dick with you, while the majority of girls would waste his time and then cry about not being able to turn him on. He blamed this trouble on them, not on his best friend (booze). To not waste much time, you tuck out his cock from his pants.

Your fingers envelop his half-hard length, before stroking, spitting a mouthful of your saliva down on it. Spreading over the hardened skin with a quick and easy motion of your hand, your touch lingers on the spot below its tip which makes him groan lowly. His fingers tangle in your strands, pulling your face closer to his cock as a silent plea to sink your mouth down around him.

“Don’t play, come on,” Leon says, not noticing how his voice got hoarse. “Give it a kiss, doll” In the past, you would be annoyed at his words, but tonight you don’t mind, enjoying how pretty he is when he wants to shove his dick down your throat. Your lips press against his tip and kiss around it, teasing him and licking away precum, finally bobbing your head down. The warm and wet heat of your mouth envelops his cock, your tongue flicks along the shaft. Leon can feel himself getting harder and his hips buck back in response, letting quiet groans. But the bliss didn’t last a lot, you pop out his cock and slap it against your tongue, rubbing against your lips while keeping eye contact with his eyes. The sight is dirty, lipstick leaves its color on his wet and throbbing dick, intensifying the moment.

Until he noticed there was something under your silver sequin top, that caught his gaze only now. But also he doesn’t know what it may be, wondering silently and fixating on your chest. Or he is just seeing things, until your hand slightly lowers the edge of fabric to take the bag with white powder, satisfying his curiosity. The timing made him frown, almost convincing himself you could read his mind. But also, what should he have expected? Boobs would be nice, actually.

He isn’t going to deny a pleasure to see them. That’s why his hands reach for the edge of the fabric, pulling down to expose your breasts, nipples get harder at the contact with the cold air of the night. His fingers knead soft flesh, thumb and index pinch nipples to evoke your moans out, observing your face change even for a brief moment because of him until you slap away his hands. It was nice while it lasted. He watches how you make a thin white line on his cock, almost dripping some on your skirt, and letting a curse fall from your lips. If to be honest, this is his first time seeing you doing drugs in front of him. Also, there are too many ways to consume Coke, he heard about how some women shove it in their vagina, but he isn’t sure if this is true. You lean down and snort it away with an ‘ah’ leaving your lips, while rubbing your nose and blinking messily, trying to shake off some tears forming on your waterline. He was tempted to try, but you don’t share.

“Fuck, that was hot” Leon comments, letting a low whistle. Your hand pumps his cock in a steady rhythm.

The little pause was over, with a giggle and lightened expression on your face, coke does wonders. Your mouth starts giving kisses, before sucking on the tip more eagerly than before, and your tongue swirls in a circular motion around it. For a brief moment, you shift to the underside too by flicking over that sensitive spot, making his hips buck, pushing your head deeper to sink you down along the length. You can feel more saliva pooling in your mouth, slobbering over his cock now, and spit drips down onto his balls. The Coke has its visible influence now, dilated pupils are directed into his blue eyes, keeping eye contact. He knows that state of yours, being happy and confident to do anything, clinging and not letting him go away until powder’s effects don’t start to weaken. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears, not hearing those loud suction noises your mouth does which he adores. Leon’s fingers tighten his grip on your hair, tugging and pushing your head deeper, his tip kissing your throat and he groans, while your nose rubs against his happy trail. Your jaw is more relaxed, taking him deeply and you try to swallow the excess of saliva and his precum, so your throat tightens around his cock, he can feel you choking on his now twitching arousal. It is useless, you can feel saliva dripping not only on his sac now, but also from the corners of your mouth down to your collarbone. Leon pulls your head away before slamming with quick motion his hips against your face again. His cock is slick with your saliva, sloppily moving out and back into your mouth, constant stimulation of your tongue flicking against his head and at the base made his balls tighten signaling that his orgasm is approaching. Initially, his own moans are breathless, slowly starting to increase in volume, as he took more control in his own hands. His movements are erratic, the sight of your teary expensive mascara and lipstick ruined by him and leaving marks on his cock is one of many reasons to be alive, he thinks.

“Do you see yourself right now, huh?” He moans, shaking his head with disbelief, as you keep sucking him off sloppily, making more wet sounds that intensify and fill the air between you both. His voice is at the edge of quiet whine, needy moans reach your ears. “Yeah, that’s it, all you have to do is let my cock just slide in and out of your pretty mouth, doll”

He slams his hips for the last time burying his cock deep into your throat, the head grinds before twitching for a last time spurting out a load of cum. His fingers grip tighter, almost painfully, not letting you pull away and spit it out, swallowing the bitterness that fills your senses, making you gag more. The booze diet isn’t the best one. He lets you pull away, your tongue for the last time brushed his tip and he stands still, his breathing is unsteady and chaotic, while you wipe away the remaining saliva from your skin.

“So….” Leon interrupts the silence between them, he is speaking without giving too much thought, and he quickly pauses for a second, trying to organize a decent sentence. “What about… something formal? Between us I mean” Your eyes don’t even linger on his face after his question, the so-known-annoyance returns to your face and you pull down the sun visor to fix your makeup. “Ew, no” your voice expresses disgust at the thought of being more than just a quick hookup, you roll your eyes as your thumb cleans the smear of your lipstick. Your nose twitches still, even if the effect of the drug starts to lessen. “I don’t like you like that” “It was a joke,” he brushes off quickly, feeling his own body recovering from orgasm and wanting to get away from you, so the bitterness and disappointment would not irk him so much. “For God’s sake, smile at least.”

Story of his life, nothing new.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader

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rey-jake-therapist · 2 days

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I've been having these thoughts about Annatar and Mirdania that I need to share and discuss...

In episode 5, we're told that Mirdania put on the newly forged ring for 'resizing' (I still don't get how this works btw), and by doing so, walked in the Unseen world and saw Sauron's terrifying true form.

What we don't know, however, is why she did that? Did she do it on her own volition, or did Annatar tell her to?

Annatar's facial expressions are so HARD TO READ, unlike Halbrand's, that it's very difficult to say when he's truly upset about something, or when he's putting up an act. In this scene he looks bothered by the fact that Mirdania saw his true form, but is he? Did he know that the process they used this time would cause the ring bearer to go "to the other side"? I think it's very possible.

He was very angried by Celebrimbor's insistance that rings couldn't be given to humans, this we can say. He felt, at this moment, that he would be able to control Celebrimbor no more if he didn't do something. So he decided to pit Mirdania and the other smiths against Celebrimbor, to isolate him. What better way to do that than convincing them that Celebrimbor's losing his mind and turning dark?

And I constantly go back to Mirdania's striking resemblance with Galadriel : same hair color, same hair style, same dress... He's not remotely interested in her, but she's still the constant reminder of "the one who got away", which may annoy him. It could be why he targeted Mirdania and not any of the other Elves, imho. What Mirdania saw in the Unseen world, his true form, is what he wanted Galadriel to see. He wanted her to accept him as he really is, but she made it clear it would never happen, hurting his pride. Sauron was humiliated with this rejection, and I've got the nasty feeling that he wants to make pay this poor girl for the sole crime of looking like the one who did that to him :/

#sauron #galadriel #mirdania #trop meta #trop season 2 #trop speculation #rings of power

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speedycoffeedelight · 2 days

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An Animalistic Disaster

CH-25: Alastor's in a..what?

Masterlist

Summary:

Melody finds out the truth and you all react to episode five as some crazy new things are revealed.

A.n: I'm sorry for the disappearence guys!!! A lot of stuff happened and I hit a writers block 🥲

Tw: mentions of domestic violence.

You felt a chill go through your spine at her voice. You didn't even realise when she came here. Vaggie flew out the window from your head noticing her.

" Oh, I was just talking to myself. Don't worry. Shouldn't you be in the bed? "

You laughed nervously, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. You hoped she didn't think of you as a madwoman who talks by herself when she's alone. You wouldn't hear the end of it.

" Yeah I was about to..but you were taking too long and I heard talking, so I wanted to check it out."

She walked over and stood beside you, looking away into the wild from the window. " Was that one of your 'friends'?" She whispered chuckling a bit as you bonked her head narrowing your eyes " That guy is a bad influence on you."

A few moments went by in quietness as you both stayed silent. Crickets started to chirp as moonlight shone inside the kitchen, illuminating both of your faces.

" You know.... getting inspiration wasn't the only reason I decided to visit you.." Melody's somber voice suddenly broke through the silence. You stayed quiet, letting her continue.

" I needed a small break from my parents and my brother..."

You looked over at the dainty and frail girl. You looked at how loosely her nightwear hung from her body, almost giving her a ghostly appearance in the moonlight. Your eyes trailed from her tired eyes to her shoulders where there were some bruises...wait bruises?

You slowly lifted up your hand to trace your finger over it as she winced a bit. How didn't you notice it sooner?? " Melody....who did this? " She smiled sadly looking down. "You know who..."

You felt like your heart was being crushed in two. Were they also deliberately not feeding her enough or something? You fisted your palm tightly, feeling angry at them and yourself. Oh how you wished you could beat that shitty excuse of her parents up.

" You have it easy...you don't have your parents nagging after you all the time.. criticizing every little thing you do..you don't have a brother who's out to get you in trouble every living second..." Her voice broke a little. " You don't have parents who would hit you if you did something they didn't like..."

She was fully breaking into small sobs now. You didn't say anything and just pulled her closer to your body. Resting your chin above her head as you let her rant.

" You can live far away from your parents...alone and peacefully... you're free to do whatever you want..while I have to fight every day to pursue my dream... I'm jealous.... I'm jealous of you.."

You kissed top of her head as she sniffled. It almost felt like you two were kids again. And she was hiding from her parents by coming into your room as you comforted her. She's going through a lot as well. In some sense her words were true a little. You truly were living in luxury compared to her.

" You know, I always said you can come live with me.." you whispered softly as she looked up at you crying. "Y-you... know I can't do that...." She whispered in a broken voice. Even though you wanted to deny it, you knew it was the truth. No doubt if she came to live with you now, nasty rumours would be spread by her parents. And it'll be like she gave up on her dream, knowing how stubborn she could be, you knew she wouldn't listen either. But you still offered anyway.

You held her for a little longer as her sobs soon died down between your chest. You soon felt her getting limp between your arms. You had no idea how she was able to fall asleep so quickly. You assumed talking about all these made her tire out.

You picked her up and laid her down on the bed. She weighted like a kid. You looked down at her sadness evident in your eyes. You'll make sure she gains some weight by the time she leaves and make sure she at least has enough fun to forget about her situation. You laid down on the bed looking up at the ceiling.

Everyone has so many problems in their life. You think your life is hard but then you look around a bit and see people suffering more. Like the Hazbins for example....

You sighed, there's no use thinking depressed thoughts at this time of hour. You can't change people's past, but you wish you could at least help make it better for the future. That should be enough.

Your thoughts soon dragged you off to sleep.

You woke up to the smell of something burning in the kitchen as you sat up. " What's going on?!" You yelled as you started to get off from the bed. You quickly noticed Melody was missing.

You spotted her holding a burnt pancake in front of your stove with a sad expression. You sighed in relief seeing at least nothing caught on fire as you slowly walked over to her scratching your neck. "Come on now Mel... what're you doing..." She looked up at you sniffing. "I just wanted to do something for you...I guess I'm only good at sewing and nothing else.." you smiled softly at her and patted her head roughly, messing up her hair.

" Don't worry about that kiddo, go focus on your works instead. That's what you're here for right? I'll handle the breakfast." You practically pushed her to the separate room with her things.

"Hey I'm only a year younger than you!"

You clapped you hand after sending her away. " Now then, let's begin shall we?" You made use of the rest of the batter that was left to cook more pancakes. Melody was laying down on the lounge, scribbling away in her sketchpad to come up with ideas.

After a while you called her as you set the breakfast on the table. You served her with honey on top of the fluffy pancakes and laughed seeing her drool over them. While eating you told her about how you planned to take her out to town. She looked like she might burst from happiness.

You found the car outside just as you instructed. You left one of the windows open so Cherri could come in and let the others in through the door. Currently the whole crew was chilling inside, some resting on the bed or lounge and some finally cooking warm food.

" How long do you think we'll have to stay hidden...this sucks!"

Angel groaned from one of the chairs. " I don't know, get used it" Husk replied as a cat on top of the table. This form took less space to move around. " This girl can sketch beautifully!" Niffty was flipping through Melody's sketchbook. " Is she going to make all these dresses?"

" Um, guysss... shouldn't we make sure to..not touch or move anything?" Pentious rubbed his hands together looking around. " Or they might you know..get suspicious?"

" Quit being such a wuss." Cherri rolled her eyes bringing her head out from the fridge grabbing a box of juice and drinking it straight and dropping it. Before it could touch the ground Niffty came right in to catch it and throw it in the trash.

" Everything's gonna be fineee"

A distinct sound of something falling came from your room. Pentious blinked at Cherri with doubt and worry.

" What happened here?!"

Melody's voice rang out as soon as she stepped inside. You sighed, they had the common sense to lock the door at least.

" The floor is squeaky clean but most of the foods are gone!" She yelled opening the fridge. Thankfully, you bought foods in this trip too expecting that much. She quickly went around to see if anything was stolen. You slowly started to unpack the groceries without caring much as Melody went around the house. You know nothing was, so you didn't have anything to worry.

" This is strange.... someone came in and just chilled here and ate our food..?" She deduced that from how the things on the bed and lounge seemed to have moved. She had a keen eye for noticing details. " Yeah... about that. " You mentally cursed yourself for the untidness of them. " Maybe it was the animals? Maybe they got in?"

" You're telling me an animal went through our fridge??" She opened the door to your fridge, pointing inside.

You didn't know what to say to that. You pulled her close and ruffled her blond hair. " C'mon, nothing happened right? Don't worry about it. I'll get to cooking okay?" You finger gunned at her while sorting through your cabinets and sweatdropping.

You could feel Melody digging a hole into the back of your head with her intense staring. It was clear she didn't believe your obvious lie but decided not to push it. Instead she went into the room beside yours and you sighed in relief.

"Dodged a bullet there...."

Another day went by like this. You were close to getting caught quite a few times. Like when Niffty came to you asking for more cleaning supplies and while you were about to hand her those, Melody came and saw you two. Melody walked outside to find you handing a scrubber and disinfectants to a small puppy.

Another time she actually caught you with Pentious cause he missed you too much and couldn't stay away, resulting in her screaming in fear. You tried to tell her he wouldn't hurt anyone but Melody wasn't having it. Pentious hung his head low as he slithered away as Melody came to check if you were truly alright.

Night soon fell as you two fell asleep.

Soon the was the day of the next two episodes which was about to be aired. Episode 5 and 6.

" Is there no way we can watch it together? " Charlie looked at you sadly. They were anxiously waiting for a long time for the next episodes to see their future. But it seemed like it might not be possible this time around. Melody was brainstorming in the other room and told you not to disturb. Her vacation was coming to a close and yet she still couldn't come up with an inspiration for a new dress. She almost looked mad scratching her hair with a pencil trying to come up with a design. You gave her hot chocolate earlier as she thanked you in a grim tome before going back to sketching. There were crumbled up papers all over the room as you carefully skipped over them.

" I don't think she is going to go out anytime soon. But she's currently cooped up in her room. Hm..."

You scratched your chin trying to come up with a plan.

" What if you all just watched it in your animal forms. I'll just tell Melody I'm watching a new show with my animal friends. She might be weirded out but she shouldn't suspect anything. I mean she haven't found out yet!"

" Found out what exactly? "

Her voice rang out behind you in a calm tone. Despite that you yelped. Panic and adrenaline rushed through your veins in the fear of being caught. Charlie screamed too holding her face as she turned into her ewe form with a puff of smoke. Vaggie quickly crouched down to pick her up. Alastor eyes just widened with his ears pulled back as her smile tightened locking eyes with Melody as he let out a few coughs.

" I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?"

All the hazbins sat or stood up around you in the kitchen after being called. Melody took all of them in looking wide eyed. You began telling your tale even though it sounded strange and weird. Melody didn't want to believe you at first, but after seeing Niffty transform again in front of her, she had to believe it.

" So, you guys were supposed to be... characters from this show..." Melody looked at her phone at the Hazbin hotel poster on Google. " And you guys came to life?"

" I'd say we were already alive dear. We just transferred from one reality to other." Alastor said attempting to correct her.

" Riiiight. (Y/n) ! You should have told me about these sooner! Is that why you asked for money back then?"

" Yeah..you can see how many people are there...and I certainly don't earn enough.." You said sheepishly scratching your neck, feeling guilty a bit.

Suddenly Niffty popped out from behind Melody suddenly and pulled her down to be face to face with her while smiling with glee." I saw your designs! They're really pretty but I think they'll look more dazzling if you added something to them. Can I try??"

She was practically buzzing with excitement as Melody handed the puppy girl that she has come to know as Niffty her notebook. " Be gentle with it alright?" Niffty practically grabbed it from her hands and produced a pencil out of nowhere as she startd scribbling down fast as a lighting. " And I'm done!" She yelled holding the book in front of her.

You and Melody peeked at the book behind Niffty back. Melody gasped in surprise as she took the book back looking at it with stars in her eyes. " This...this is it! It's perfect! I'll get to work right now!"

She practically stormed off to the other room holding Niffty's hand and slammed the door shut. She thought she could use her helping the making as well.

" Well...that went better then I expected"

You said crossing your arms. You honestly expected a lot more freaking out over all these.

" Shit we're going to be late! Alastor come on!" Charlie quickly tugged on his arm to get him moving. " I guess we'll can see the show later together then. " Vaggie yelled while following them and closing the door behind her. Now you looked at Angel and the others.

You sighed feeling relieved as you looked at the other people in the room. " I guess make yourself comfortable then. I'll start making today's lunch."

Later in that day, you all settled in front of your laptop again. Melody finished watching the previous episodes earlier so she was all caught up as well. With everything ready, you started episode 5 of the Hazbin hotel.

The episode started with Vaggie waking up on her and Charlie's bed. Then it shows that Charlie was going crazy about the hotel.

' We only have a couple months left before the angels come. Hahaha'

That manic laughter of Charlie was.... disturbing to say the least. The whole damn ground of the hotel shook.

' Maybe it's time.. '

' No. '

' -to ask.. '

' Don't say it. '

' your dad '

Lucifer!! She was going to call Lucifer! You sat up straight in your seat. Ohhhh, you've been waiting for this for so long. Finally you can see what the big boss of hell is like! Charlie didn't seem too excited about that. You didn't notice how Alastor's smile twitched a little at the mention of him. Niffty seemed a lot excited on the other hand.

' He let the extermination happen to begin with. '

So Lucifer's behind all this? Damn, he must be a cold fellow. Maybe a ruthless merciless ruler.

' After he and mom spilt, he never really wanted to see me. He calls... sometimes, but only if he's bored or like, needs me to do something. '

' Daddy issues '

Wait wait what? Lilith and Lucifer spilt up?? They're divorced? And he doesn't even look after her daughter?? Good god..you felt sorry for Charlie. Guess you both have shitty dad's now. Also Husk's mug was something, 'fuck Mondays '. Yeah, honestly, fuck that day.

Then the scene switched to Lucifer's room showing pictures of the Morningstar family. Hold on..was that..you paused to see better.

" Charlie you had an emo phrase???" You said struggling to hold your laughter.

" Heeeey, don't look at it!! It was a long time ago!"

Charlie felt herself flush as she quickly resumed the video as the whole crew laughed. You were also excited as fuck to see her dad. Finally after all this time...

' Now presenting...the magic-tastical backflipping rubber duck! '

Wait what?

The man's room was filled to the brim with rubber ducks. You don't know what you expected but it wasn't this. But you still couldn't stop a small smile from creeping onto your lips. He's going to be an quirky and interesting character for sure.

Lucifer acted like he was being applauded in front of a crowd before throwing a duck on their family portrait. His face saddened for bit looking at the picture as he looked away and Charlie's phone came through. He panicked for a bit.

' Hello, Charlie. H-hey, heyyy, CharChar..No! No, that's not good. '

Poor boy was trying hard to pick what to say. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit as Charlie looked at bit bewildered.

' Oh, this is the first time she's called you in years. This has to be perfect. '

That's it papa. Go for it!

' Heeeey, bitch! '

Lucifer what the fuck was that?? Everyone's eye widened hearing what he just said. He pretended he was busy with important things so he forgot what she was busy with. Kinda reminded you for your dad and how he doesn't really call you much either and when he does, it was with the same awkwardness but more shitty.

' Yeah, of course. Anything in my power is yours for asking. You just name it. '

He keeps her spoilt too. But Charlie's too kind hearted to use such powers you're sure.

' But this is really important to me. '

Aww, you didn't miss the way Angel and Pentious melted when Charlie said how important it was. Poor babies. Angel, Pentious and others also felt their heart leap. Charlie was really a kind hearted soul.

' My daughter wants to see me! Take that depression! '

You burst out laughing at this line. Poor guy is so excited to see her daughter. You were wrong about Lucifer after all. He's a softie and still cares about Charlie and Lilith.

" Man, I think I already love him.." you whispered softly forgetting for a moment that you were watching this with the damn cast with Charlie sitting next to you. You quickly whipped you head around. " I-i meant as a character! As a character I think he's cool!"

" Sure ya do Hun " Angel wriggled his eyebrows at you making you shirnk in embarrassment. " Don't worry, I wanna tap that too" he whispered in your ear making you squeak.

" That's Lucifer? The Lucifer?" Cherri looked at the paused screen crossing her arms. " I thought he'd be more flashy or cooler. This is lame."

" Yeah...I thought he'd be a real bad boy...hmph!" Niffty pouted as well.

Guess there were people who liked this Lucifer and those who didn't. Next everyone began to clean the hotel for Lucifer's arrival. Lucifer literally squeezed Charlie upon arrival as Alastor glared at him. What was his problem?

' You taking care of my little girl? You better be..'

Woah, that was chilling. So you guess he can get scary as well. He looked..kinda unimpressed by the hotel but was trying not to hurt her feelings.

' And you are? '

' Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure. '

He shook his hand with his cane and shakes his hand of on his suit like there were germs on it. You sideeyed at him and saw how his lips bent upwards in a smirk.

' You are much shorter in real life. '

" Why are you picking a fight with him?? You guys just met?? " You looked at Alastor's with eyebrows raised. " Nothing personal dear, I just don't like the fellow. Do carry on with the show" you didn't believe him for one bit but resumed it.

' Ha ha ha! It was actually my idea."

What's with the hip sway he did here?? Is he trying to be Shakira?

' Ha ha, fuck you. '

You gasped audibllly. " Alastor you swear???" You looked at him agape. You thought him to be well above swearing and to call these types of words vile or unprofessional or something.

" Yes dear. I do swear. Although I'm not particularly fond of it. Why is it such a suprise?"

You didn't have a good answer to that. It was just headcannoned in your head that way. You saw how Alastor was praising Charlie and pulling her closer just to piss Lucifer off. And it was working very well. God if he looked at you that way you would melt.

Unknown to you, he already does when you're not looking.

Charlie then introduced Vaggie to Lucifer.

' Looks like you could use some help

From the big boss of hell himself '

Ahhh, he was singing!! You loved it!! He was trying hard to impress Charlie.

' Who needs a busboy now that you've got the chef '

Was that.. alastor in a busboy outfit?? You loved everybit of it. Poor deer was flipped on a frying pan. You paused just to take a quick look at him.

' Who's been faithful as a nun? '

Nun Alastor awoke something in you. You can't say what but it did. You sneaked a look at him while blushing. You focused on the song again before your thoughts spiraled farther.

' I was stuck, thank you, sir! '

Why was Niffty stuck in a toilet in the first place...

' You're like the child that I wish that I had '

' uh,what? '

" Wait what??" You and Lucifer had the same expression. He sees her as his daughter? He can't be serious. Other people still had the same shocked expression. But judging by how the song is going, you were 99% sure he said that just to piss Lucifer off. The way he was patting Charlie's head was cute though.

' It's a little funny, you could almost call me Dad '

" Alastor, you can't be serious." You finally looked at him. He just chuckled and shrugged. " Isss it true you wish to be a father then?" Pentious asked with a finger on his chin.

" Goodness no. It isn't like that. "

" Then you said it just to piss Lucifer off didn't you? "

His smile only broadened at your question.

" Yeah, yeah you did. Now that that's out of the way-"

" Does that mean you didn't believe in all the things you said about me? Like how you believed in me?" Charlie looked a bit sad. She thought she found someone else who believes in her except Vaggie. Alastor chuckled a bit patting her head. He truly didn't believe in the redemption nonsense. He was just here for the entertainment! But he can't say that in front of all these people, that'd be quite rude of him. And his mom raised a gentleman.

" I'm sure you'll do just fine. Now let's get on with the show."

You liked seeing Lucifer's angelic wings, they were really pretty. The rest of the song went like that but in the end a girl butted in. It was mimzy wasn't it? You saw pictures of her before. She started throwing confetti on the sinners.

' Why is everybody gawking? Is it cuz I'm adorable? '

Yeah she's adorable but why was she here??

' Mimzy! '

The look of pure happiness on his face as he hugged the girl was unreal. You always throught he hated physical touch like that. But you guess he had exceptions. These two were apparently old friends who knew each other on earth. That was interesting.

' Oh, oh my stars '

Same Mimzy. Same. You would have had the same reaction to him. Charlie was beautiful. Lucifer was handsome and cute. Lilith was drop dead gorgeous. You were simping for the whole Morningstar family. Mimzy sat at the bar while Charlie, Alastor and Vaggie went to show Lucifer around.

Angel asked Mimzy about Al and she started to talk about how he came to power. That guy used to broadcast other overlords screams in his radio broadcast. Damn...

' But underneath it all. He's a total sweetie. Put on some jazz and pour a couple fingers of rye, and he becomes a kitten. '

You must have awwed out loud alongside Charlie cause you felt dead glares coming from Alastor's side. Oh he and Mimzy was going to have a talk later if he gets back. Vaggie was finding it hard to hold in a chuckle.

Husk went to talk with Alastor. That guy's face did a whole 180° before his body turned. What was he? An owl?

Husk tried to warn Alastor about how Mimzy didn't come here with good intention but Alastor paid him no mind.

' You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet! '

' Hmhm! But you are! Haha! '

Alastor sees him as a pet...no wonder Husk dislikes the word pet so much.

" Big talk for someone who's also on a leash. "

'Ex-fucking-cuse me??? He's in a what?!?' The way you all collectively gasped except Alastor, husk and Niffty sent echoes throughout the room. Alastor felt his head spinning. Why, why, why??? Why this out of everything? Why did they had to reveal this about him?

Shadows danced in the walls behind him as he slowly turned towards Husk. This was all this damn cats fault. Because this stupid shitty cat doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't need any disobedient pets!

He didn't even notice when he reached out to Husk while extending his arm . He had to teach him a lesson. He had to. He didn't have to look around at others know what you all might have been thinking of him. The mighty radio demon on a leash? He'd be a laughingstock to all of them now.

You all leapt around in action quickly and started to pull him back as Husk backed away. Charlie stood in front of Husk in a protective manner as you, Pentious and Angel were trying to hold him off.

" Alastor, please wait!" You shouted out behind him. This whole thing was a disaster. The fact that someone like him was under a contract was baffling. Who even was it? When did that happen? Does it have anything to do with the time he was absent? There were a lot of questions and a lot less answers.

Both Alastor ears and tail was perked up as he snarled at Husk. After what felt like an eternity he finally stopped trying to break free. You released your grasp on him as he sank to his knees. His eyes wide blown wide open as he ran his fingers through his hair. His ears were tilted back as you saw him take a deep breath in.

Angel stood beside Husk protectively as Vaggie stood beside Charlie. You made sure Melody was well protected behind you as Alastor slowly stood up with his head down. Pentious was hiding behind Cherri as Niffty just started at him with big blinking eyes.

" Ah..I suppose I lost a bit of control there. My apologies. "

Alastor's slinky smooth voice ran throughout the room. He was again smiling just like before like nothing just happened.

" Listen here Pedazo de mierda sonriente( smiling piece of shit), I don't give a rat's ass about your soul is binded or not. But if you hurt any of our guests here, I'm going to make sure you regret ever being born. Don't forget you're just a human here!" Vaggie glared at him while producing a knife out of no where. You half wondered if she just kept it with herself always.

" Not a another word about my soul if you value your life. " Alastor's sharp voice rang out looking down at her. He didn't want to be reminded of it every second. " I may be a human now, but I'm still powerful enough to overpower you easily."

Charlie quickly stepped in between things could go any farther and convinced Vaggie to put down the knife away before anyone got hurt. The situation became rather tense quickly. Alastor hated it. Alastor hated the looks they were giving him. It was like he could almost taste the thoughts. With shaky hands you resumed the episode.

Alastor linked a green chain around husk throat and threw him on the ground.

' If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wrech who dares to question me '

'Understood.'

' Lovely '

God this scene hurt to watch. Husk around you pulled his ears back grumbling as his tail came to wrap around himself. Charlie looked at scene horrified. Almost all of the people here including you forgot Alastor was an overlord. He is actually a cruel piece of shit. He's not just an old timey funny jokestar. He's a bad person and he enjoys torturing others.

Your heart almost broke seeing Husker shiver on the ground. Although another part of you was a little turned on when he was wrapping the chain around his hand. You already really well people on the internet was going to lose their mind over this.

It cut to Charlie talking with Lucifer now over a balcony.

' These are our people Dad, I...I have to try. '

' Our 'people', Charlie, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it! Everything's terrible! '

Lucifer really doesn't like the sinners huh. You mean..you couldn't blame him. You wouldn't have put much high thoughts about them either.

Suddenly some sinners who were after Mimzy started attacking the hotel. Lucifer was teasing Charlie about how it was all pointless and in the end they'll always just disappoint and let her down. ' Lucifer...I get it but couldn't you be a bit nicer for your daughter..' you thought with a tight lipped expression.

" A reminder to all, not to mess with the Radio demon. "

Alastor sprouted his tentacles now tearing into those sinners. He turned huge now stomping and making a mess of those unfortunate souls. Lucifer pointed at Alastor to tell her how bad sinners could be but Charlie refuted that.

Alastor just chomped on a sinners body and looked at Charlie.

' It may be a bit more sadistic than I'd hoped. But he's doing it for me! How come he can have faith in me, but my own father can't? '

' Ooh, drama. '

Ouch, that one hurt. That one hit too close to home for you. You vaguely remembered a memory close to it. And not Angel and Husk just having fun of this.

' Heheheh, sorry about the mess, but I'm sure the lil' bug will take care of it for ya. '

What do you mean you're sorry woman? You brought those sinners to the hotel and endangered everyone there. You were starting to get pissed off at the girl. She didn't even sound a least bit guilty.

' I think you should go Mimzy. Now. '

Thank you Alastor. At least he didn't stand up for this bullshit.

' Have fun with ya lil' princess and ya lil' hotel. See if I care.'

Did she think Alastor was interested in Charlie and that's why he was defending the hotel? Who knows. But you were glad to see her gone. Then the scene switched to Lucifer and Charlie talking. Charlie was trying to convince Lucifer but he saw no point in it. He looked almost broken while talking about heaven.

' You didn't know that when

I tried this all before '

Right, he is the first fallen angel. He's been through betrayal before because his dreams were too big.

' Now you're the only thing worth fighting for

More than anything

I'll shelter and adore you more than anything '

Your heart squeezed within you. With tears threatening to burst out. God, Lucifer just wanted best for his daughter. He's just protective of her. Every line was shooting an arrow through your chest.

The scene switched to tiny Charlie. You and others awwed at this. Tiny Charlie was adorable. Vaggie wanted to pick her up.

' More than anything

More than anything

I need to save my people more than anything '

Everyone and including Alastor was looking at Charlie softly as she sang. Pentious had the same expression as the show beside you with teary eyes. He loved this wholesome scene so much.

' Looks like the apple doesn't fall far'

' Took you a while '

' I've missed that smile '

You were fully crying now. Did anyone mention how you were crying now? God you were so happy for her. But your heart also panged inside a bit. You also wanted to hear these things badly from your dad....you wished your dad was like him...you sniffed a bit at the bittersweet feeling that ran across your heart.

' Cause in the end

You're part of who I am'

'I'll support your dream

Whatever lies in store'

' And who could ask for more? '

You were torn between seeing Lucifer as a dad and a daddy figure. His wings were so beautiful too. Both you and Charlie were fully crying by the time the song ended as you were both hugging each other.

" I miss my father..." Charlie sniffed burying her face in your hair.

' Aww, that was sweet '

Just like Pentious in the show said, it was indeed sweet. Real Pentious was nodding too.

Lucifer said that he'll get Charlie a meeting in heaven and disappeared in magic.

' You ready? '

' I'm ready. 'cause you'll be with me. '

' In spirit, right? '

' In heaven. '

' Yay..!'

And with that the episode ended. Vaggie did not look excited to go there. She looked like she dreaded.

Vaggie gulped on her spot next to you. It was her turn now huh. They revealed secret stuff about Angel, Husk and even Alastor. Is the thing for her was going to be how she...was an Angel? They won't right...fuck but how the show was progressing, that seemed to be the only way it's headed. What would Charlie think. What would others think? Would they really be so forgiving in her case?

Thousands of worried thoughts were running through her head. But she hardly had any time to think as the small break between the episodes were over and everyone sat down for the next episode.

A.n :

Also finally we got the introduction for Lucifer!! Alright, question time , do y'all want Lucifer as a love interest or side character?

Don't worry, and no, just because Charlie is here to doesn't mean there's going to be any sort of incest involved. None of that shit.

And what do you guys think Lucifer is going to be if he's a love interest. Guess in the comments. Here's a hint, he and Vaggie will have something in common ~

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

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writememysticfalls · 18 hours

Text

Dive In | Stefan Salvatore

Summary: You're about to have sex with your boyfriend Stefan for the first time, but he can't get his ex-girlfriend out of his mind.

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Shirtless!Stefan, angst

Word Count: 1k

Stefan followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You were going to have sex for the first time tonight. Stefan would be lying if he said he hadn't fantasised about it.

“So… your aunt’s at a conference. Your brother is at a friend's house,” Stefan said. “What's the catch?”

“No catch,” you said, shutting the door and grinning at him. “Just us.”

You sat on the bed facing your mirror, and kicked off your shoes. You pulled your vest top over your head.

Stefan lay back on the bed, resting on his elbows, admiring the way the light caught the little spots of brown in your hair.

“As soon as my clothes are off, I'm diving under the blanket, okay? God, this part’s always so awkward,” you said.

But Stefan wasn't listening. A shiver ran through him. Cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine. He had spotted a brown mole, right in the centre of your back. Katherine had a mole on her back, too.

Suddenly, it was 1864 again.

He heard the sputter of the gas lamp in the corner. Katherine swept her curls away from her back, revealing the mole he loved - and angry red bite marks on her neck.

Stefan leapt forward, touching the marks.

“I see you've noticed my battle scars. Your brother has quite a nasty mouth,” Katherine teased.

Stefan felt only horror as he remembered that vampires healed within minutes. Katherine must have come straight from his brother’s room.

“Stefan,” you said, straddling him, and playing with his hair. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Fine. Sorry. You're beautiful.”

You smiled, but your eyes were serious. “You do… want to do this, right?”

Stefan nodded, plastering on a smile. How could he explain the truth - that he was disturbed by how much you reminded him of Katherine?

He had felt this way a few times before. He would notice something - the way your voice got higher when you were annoyed, or your smirk when you told an innuendo - and he would feel a slight shiver of deja vu. But it had never been this bad.

You bit your lip, looking down, your body leaning over his.

Stefan noticed that your dark eyes still had that shyness of adolescence, which Katherine’s had never had. You were nothing like Katherine. Slowly and gratefully, he kissed you.

You kissed him back, then kissed a trail down his jaw and to his neck. This time, when he shivered from your wet lips, it was a good feeling.

And then, like a red wave, the memories flooded back.

Katherine, her lips on his neck. Suddenly, sharp teeth as she bit down into his flesh, sucking his blood. At first, the sting was bearable, but then it became an ache, spreading through his neck and to his chest. He imagined bleeding to his death, right there in his bed. He felt his eyelids flutter, panic making him drowsy.

“No,” he mumbled. “It hurts…. It hurts…”

You frowned at him. “Stefan! Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no…” he said.

Stefan was getting angry at himself. Why should his life be ruined by a crappy relationship 150 years ago? Immortals couldn't get PTSD, for god’s sake. Katherine was in his head, in his bed, just when he was trying to connect to you. It wasn't fair.

He would just have to push through the fear and get over it. The first step was to make the situation as different to 1864 as possible.

Stefan lifted you with one hand and manoeuvred you so his body was on top of yours, a position Katherine never allowed.

Already, the panic of a moment ago was fading like a distant nightmare. Screwing his eyes shut, he kissed you again, with a passion that would silence all of your worries.

In a few minutes, your naked bodies were rocking to an even rhythm. Stefan felt a sense of victory bubbling up in him like lava. This was almost over. He could master his trauma from Katherine. He could be your man, in every way you needed him to be.

Then, he heard himself moan, from deep in his throat. Strangely, that was what reminded him of 1864.

“I love it when you moan for me, Stefan” Katherine said. His back was pressed against his bedroom wall, and Katherine’s mouth was all over him. Katherine’s lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “I can tell that Damon is listening just through that wall.” Stefan tried to stifle the sounds coming from his mouth, panic filling him, but Katherine only laughed. “Don't be afraid, darling. He loves the shows we put on for him.”

Stefan opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at you and see your wide, youthful eyes, so different from Katherine’s. However, the flashback remained.

Gasping for breath, Stefan rolled away from you, curling up into a ball. He had failed. Katherine had got in his head, and he hadn't been able to stop her.

For a long time, you just lay there by him, slowly stroking his back.

Finally, you said, “It was Katherine, wasn't it?”

Stefan turned, stunned. “You knew?”

You shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Do you wish I was more like her?” you said quietly, and Stefan could hear that you had avoided asking this question for a long time.

Stefan turned to you and took in your beautiful eyes and thick, wet lashes. “No. I promise you, if there is one thing that can save me from the memory of Katherine, it's you, Y/n. You're kind, you're selfless, you would die for your family - you're everything she wasn’t.” Stefan smiled. “We just might have to take things slow for a while.”

You kissed Stefan’s hand. “You can tell me things, you know. I might be young, but I've lived through stuff too.”

Stefan smiled. “I know.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

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maggotbxby · 1 year

Text

Coup De Grâce - Deadite Ellie x OC/Reader - Chapter One

"and the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever" Revelation 20:10

Or...

Greta is a God-fearing, wannabe actress with a particularly strange family history, and an impressive talent of stumbling upon disgusting scenes. When tragedy strikes her home in an old LA high-rise, she quickly realizes her fate may be much more twisted than she was brought up to believe.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,349

TW: Religious Trauma; Gore; Suicidal Thoughts; Violence; Everything in Evil Dead Rise.

---------

This building is dead.

It died a month ago when the landlord dropped letters in our mail slots letting us all know we have to be out by next month. He didn't even give us the courtesy of calling, just a print and copied half-assed apology letter to the tenants who pay out their livelihoods every month in rent so he can buy a new Ferrari and not fix the lights.

It’s not that I want to be here, particularly. There is just no other apartment on this side of LA that I would be able to afford. No others would even consider me, if I could. No stable job and a 480 credit score doesn't bode well with most landlords.

A category 5 earthquake was just a death blow, and exactly what I needed to truly understand it was, in fact, God's will for me to return to Tennessee.

The apartment is nearly pitch dark, even with the couple of candles I lit. A blackout coming with the aftershocks while I was packing explains a lot about how my luck has been the past few weeks. It’s as quiet as the dead, aside from the typical moans and groans of the old building. If my neighbors weren't stomping around, I would consider it eerie.

I sit on a rickety stool that came with the place as I sort through my papers. Every tiny shift in my body causes the stool to creak and groan, just like the rest of the wretched building, so I try to be perfectly still.

The candlelight picks up my papers just enough for me to sort through them and chuck them into boxes- or the trash. It's nearly 10:00 and on a normal night I wouldn't keep packing, especially during a post-earthquake blackout, but I want out of this place as quickly as possible, and if I have to suffer for a while to do that, I will.

I pick up a folder on my desk, and even in the dark I recognize it as my portfolio- or my pathetic excuse of one. I open it up to see my year-old headshots and my resume. I’ve never been a bad actress, particularly, I’ve just been bad at landing roles. Sure, maybe I didn't work hard enough to find a manager, but even if I had, my off-screen charisma has always been lacking. I scored one decent role in a film, only for it to be scrapped halfway through production. But I have kept trying, I tried theater, I tried commercials, I even tried volunteering into the musical theater at my local church; I’ve tried lots of things.

Because my father left me on this earth alone, and try is all that I can do.

I need to keep living, for reasons undisclosed to even my own mind.

I tell myself that my father left because God wanted him to come home. He spent years of his life driving out evil spirits, freeing tormented souls from the clutches of the Devil, and maybe God thought his work was done? I like to believe that over the probable truth that his fear overcame him; that what he has been running from his entire life finally caught up to him. There is a devotion to God and, with it, a fear of the Devil that has been passed down for generations throughout my family. My father, and many men before him, suffered because of it.

But if God called my father home, what does that tell me about our home? Does God not care about our family? Why wouldn't he take both of us? No matter what I have done to myself after he died, the agony I have both endured and inflicted upon myself, I am still here. So maybe I do have a purpose on this earth. Or maybe God doesn't want me in His Kingdom at all.

I remain faithful that these thoughts are untrue. I pray to God every day and every night. I spread His word to those I meet, and I follow His guidance in everything I do, so maybe that’s why I'm still here.

Packing my, and the rest of my fathers belongings a second time has my mind cruelly bogged with memories, scents, feelings; just pure sentimentality. I have never been host to it before, being estranged from the rest of my family young never granted me the privilege. I do not have the patience for it. My body aches as I look at my shattered dreams, and I feel something cold and awful prick at the throbbing muscle inside my chest, frigid claws that dig deep into my being and tear away so subtly.

My anger gets the better of me and I throw the folder into the trash, causing it to topple over and spill papers and garbage all over the floor. Tears of exhaustion and frustration well up in my eyes, and I grip the sides of my head in my hands and bite back a scream. I will not let myself cry over this. I created this problem, I have to dig -or well, clean- myself out of it.

I admit, I am an exposed nerve, and have been for the last year, my father's death having ripped off my epineurium.

I hop up from the stool, making it creak wretchedly, scraping the wooden floor, and I grab a broom from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

It’s because it is so quiet that I hear footsteps outside my door.

In most apartments, this wouldn't come as a surprise but considering I live around a corner, at the end of the hall, on the top floor, it’s a bit odd to have foot traffic this late. I tend to be left alone down here, no one vying to get in aside from the rats and dust bunnies.

I keep cleaning, because if someone has come to rob me, they will surely be disappointed, and if they have come to kidnap or kill me, my weak body and dry-rotten broomstick surely aren't going to stop them.

The steps draw closer, and I can hear their breathing; sharp, heavy, fast. The pattering footsteps stop but the breathing doesn't, however it draws farther away.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slowly approach the peephole in the door. I take in a deep breath only to relax when I see it’s one of the neighbor kids, peering around my little back corner out into the long-stretched hallway with the other apartments. I can’t see that hallway from my room, however.

The moment of relaxation is cut short as I realize the kid is crying. His eyes are wide and red, and his breath is quick, like a rabbit being hunted by a fox.

Then I hear a scream coming from the hallway.

Then another.

The child is still hiding around the corner and even though I can’t see what he’s hiding from, everything in my nature tells me it is something he needs to get away from, now. I go to open the door and before I can unlock the deadbolt, the kid takes a mad dash down the long hallway.

…

……

...……

Another scream.

A thud.

My eyes well up in tears of panic and fear as I stand frozen, staring out of the peephole. I see nothing, but I hear everything.

Screaming, crying, ripping, squelching, banging, a gunshot.

Laughing.

Across that sequence of events, which lasted all of 3 minutes, I decided to make peace with death. Because it is all that I can do.

Then it goes quiet again. This time the quiet is eerie. No loud neighbors, no footsteps, nothing.

The air at the top of the high rise is thin, always has been, but trying to breathe it in during a panic feels like there is no air left at all. My hands shake, my chest feels as if it is about to explode. I unlock my cell phone and dial 911 only to be met with a repetitive beep. The earthquake took out the cell towers, of course. Self-preservatory panic overstimulates my senses and I drop to my knees at the door in a terrified heap. I cannot stop the sobs that choke out of my throat, and I fear even my body knows that whoever- or whatever is out there is going to come for me soon.

I clasp my hands and bow my head as I sob out the only thing I can “The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I fear no evil; for you are with me.”

I whisper prayers until my voice is hoarse. Because that is all that I can do. If anyone saw me at this moment I would be mortified. My neighbors are being attacked just outside my door and I have done nothing . But what can I do? Face a mass murderer by myself. Whoever is out there hasn't been stopped by the entire floor of people. They're a predator, and I am just as much a lamb to be slaughtered as anyone.

What I do need, is to get out of this place.

My mind is frequently unreliable, especially with time, however I have been hyperfocused on sounds tonight and I can confidently say the hallway has been pretty silent for at least 10 minutes now.

This can mean one of two things:

Everyone here except me got the hell out of this building, because they didn’t hide in their apartments like cowards, and the authorities are on their way.

Or everyone here except me has been killed, because they didn’t hide in their apartments, and ran out like idiots, and I am just waiting for my turn to face death as well.

Regardless of the right answer, staying in my apartment is going to get me nowhere. The only available exits are the elevator -which is a terrible option post-earthquake- or the stairs, both of which are at the end of the hall.

I get up from my heap on the floor and scour my apartment to grab the rest of my essentials to get out of here. I toss my phone, keys, wallet, and bible all into my purse, and I slowly and quietly unlock the deadbolt.

The moment I put my hand on the door handle to pull it open I feel my stomach sink and my body tense. The narrow hallway feels like a chute, and I feel as soon as I turn the corner my executioner will be waiting with a captive bolt ready to be driven into my skull.

I take two quiet steps outside my door towards the other hallway and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart threatens to crash its way out of my chest, sending a painful wave of thunder to my wrists and my neck. The sheer force of my blood pressure reverberates into my ears. I keep my body to the wall and clutch my bag to satisfy my brain’s need to have leverage and I use every ounce of courage in my body to peer around the corner into the hallway and-

Corpses.

There are corpses.

Horrifying, mutilated corpses of my neighbors. The corpse of the child who, if I was a second faster, could have been brought into my apartment.

Skin sloughed from muscle, muscle from bone and I am sick sick sick sick si-

The putrid, infectious scent of bile, blood, and exposed flesh makes its way to me, and by some miracle I do not vomit but my body doubles over, and my eyes and mouth are pooling while a black haze creeps into the borders of my field of view.

When I glance up, the sensible part of my brain makes my obscured vision focus on the only thing still moving in the hallway.

I, as anyone who knew her would, recognize her from the tattoos on her exposed flesh and the distinct red hair on her head, Ellie Bixler.

But very much not Ellie Bixler.

Her skin is pale and gray with death, and she is caked in blood and bits of everything that are no longer inside my neighbors' bodies. The curve of her arm is made jagged, and My God limbs are not meant to bend that way.

I suddenly believe that every prayer I have ever spoken has come to protect me at this moment, as she somehow does not notice me while she is focused on what I think is the door to her own apartment. I do not let my luck go to waste as I rush back behind the wall, out of sight of anyone in that hallway.

The quiet I got too comfortable with finally comes to an end in what I assume is the sound of her breaking, or trying to break through her door.

I peer around the corner like an idiot in some sick daze of infatuation when I hear the scream of a child.

Ellie is pushed halfway into her apartment, holding onto what I can only imagine is her youngest daughter, Kassie. Someone else inside the room comes to help as the door is slammed onto Ellie’s arm and she recoils back into the hallway.

She then throws herself into the door, furiously banging on it.

“OPEN THE DOOR LIKE YOU OPEN YOUR LEGS YOU STINKING GROUPIE SLUT!”

The voice sounds like a twisted, savage, faux version of my neighbor’s and I feel the overwhelming urge to vomit again as I dart back into hiding, and I take the opportunity of the noise to rush back to my apartment.

The contents of my stomach do end up on my floor after I close and lock the apartment behind myself.

I despise vomiting. Tragically, I was cursed with a weak stomach and an impressive ability to stumble upon revolting sights. A deadly combination only I could be so lucky to have.

I do not think to clean up the vomit on the floor that will soon be covered in my own blood when I am inevitably found.

I quickly realize as my body autopilots into my bedroom, that spilling my guts combined with a severe spike in adrenaline has given me three things; sharp chest pain, energy renewal, and a massive degree of mania.

I now know what I need to do.

I haven't touched these books since I moved out of Tennessee, not that I should have. Every time they have been opened they consume the one who opens them. My father was constantly buried in these writings, wasting his life trying to make something of them. Something that would allow our family to repent from the sins of our ancestors. I have never been so unlucky to read them, until now.

I know exactly where I hid them. I drop to the floor in front of the old, dusty armoire that came with the apartment, that definitely should have been thrown out years before I moved in here.

I flatten myself on the splintery floor and snake an arm under it, finding what I was looking for. I pull out the wooden box and rise to my knees as I pop open the latch. There is a stack of 3 handwritten journals. Journals scrawled by my great-great Grandfather, Marcus Littleton.

My body quivers, and adrenaline and fear flow through my veins as I pull one of the journals out of the box, illuminated by the moonlight.

I take the box and journal to my desk. I re-light the candle upon my desk and I open the treacherous tome up. My heart is frightened; however, my mind is set.

I have heard my father describe demons for the entirety of my life. ‘Twisted, rotting corpses intent on causing chaos, destruction, and pain everywhere they are found.’

I never fully believed his tales. Of course I didn’t, there was never any public recordings of such events. His stories were from the 1920’s, it could have been nothing but hearsay. Hearsay that he lived and died for. Hearsay that, if I do nothing, I will also die for.

He never let me touch these books when he was alive, he kept them hidden for himself. When I inherited them, I never opened the box. Partially because I respected my fathers wishes, partially because I didn't want to become consumed in them as he was. My father and I always were alike.

The handwriting of my great-great grandfather is sloppy, and every word is abbreviated, shortened, or misspelled. These books were scrawled in a panic. I knew this. I was, however, never told the extent. I skim through the most legible parts of the pages, many words and phrases unreadable.

“The words I uttered have unleashed a demonic entity beyond my darkest nightmares”

“The book, it cannot be destroyed.”

“Their bodies twisted, decaying.”

“Rotted from the inside out.”

“It does not stop.”

“The possession will spread.”

“They will tear you apart, and bathe in your guts.”

“Run.”

“It cannot be stopped until innocence is destroyed.”

“I cannot escape this.”

“It's going to get me soon.”

I slam the book shut. My body trembles so wildly I begin to spasm. My heart is beating as fast as a racehorse’s and my breathing refuses to slow. The fear of being discovered from the thing just outside my apartment is the only thing keeping me from screaming.

The chicken scratch writing described a book. I have heard about this book for years. A book that was hidden away for the good of humanity. My father wanted to keep us as far away from Los Angeles for a reason. He never knew where the book was hidden away, but he knew it had to be here.

And of course, it would make total, logical sense, that by some absolute joke from God, out of all the old buildings in this city, I manage to land an apartment in the one the book was being held at.

Or perhaps I really am cursed, and some sick string of fate brought me here to die and end my family's bloodline.

The only way this could be happening is if someone found the book. My father always said, ‘They have no power without the book, so long as the words aren't spoken.’ I’m hoping he is right. If he is, maybe there is something in the book that can be used to save whoever is left in the building. Something my great-great grandfather missed.

There is only one problem.

I have absolutely no idea where the book is.

This building has 14 floors, and hundreds of tenants. It would be nearly impossible for me to find it without a mass murderer trying to kill everything in its sight.

The chaos does seem to be contained to this floor, and by the looks of it, Ellie is the only one causing it. That could potentially narrow it down to someone on this floor having it, unless of course Ellie was just the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone.

Ellie Bixler didn't deserve this. The journal said the souls of those taken were corrupted by the demon, damning them to burn in hell while their body and partial consciousness remains to wreak havoc among men. Ellie Bixler does not deserve hell.

------------

Ellie Bixler was one of the first faces I saw when I moved to this treacherous place. Moving alone was a nightmare, especially moving alone into the top floor of a high-rise, into the apartment farthest from the elevator.

I thought the nightmare was ending when I got to the last boxes in the truck. However, when I picked them up, and almost toppled over with the weight of them, I realized my bad luck streak continued. I glanced at the label on the top box and sighed—of course it would be my dishes. I hear the ding of the elevator and feel a sudden whoosh of thankfulness.

“Hold the elevator!” I called, hoping that whoever was inside of it heard me. But seeing as I didn’t run into the doors, they must have. “Thank you," I said breathlessly, in passing, and then slumped against the wall of the elevator, balancing the bottom box on my thighs.

“Do you need some help?”

I peered around my stack of boxes to see the woman who had been kind enough to hold the elevator door for me; she was still standing there, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, dark blue ripped jeans, and leather boots. She wasn't dressed like the women I grew up around in the Bible Belt, that's for sure. And judging by her dyed red hair and tattoos, I would guess she didn't act like them either. She was staring at me hesitantly with blue eyes that looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” I said quickly, disappearing back behind the boxes once I realized I had been staring a few moments too long at the gorgeous, courteous stranger while looking like I had been hit by a bus. “Thank you, though.”

There was a soft hum of contemplation, and then, a few moments later, a swish of the elevator doors sliding closed. I slumped against the elevator wall, thankful that I wouldn't have to converse with my new neighbor while coated with dirt and sweat.

“I think I have to insist, then.”

I jolted up so quickly that the box on the top wobbled precariously, only for it to be slipped off the stack and into the arms of the tall stranger. I stared at her, eyes wide, as the woman slouched under the weight of the box and flushed, before straightening up and smiling at me.

“Um.” I cringed at myself. What a way to be eloquent. “Thank you, but you really didn’t—”

“I know,” the woman smiled back. “What’s your number?”

I blinked in surprise.

“Excuse me?” There was no way this lady just asked for my number. Who did she think she was?

The woman’s mouth fell open and she was immediately blushing. Her brow furrowed and she chuckled awkwardly, shaking her head. “Your floor… Number. Is what I meant. For the elevator?”

Oh . I looked over at the rows of glowing white buttons; I hadn’t pressed the floor number when I rushed in.

“Oh, yeah! Right!” I replied awkwardly, still not looking at the woman. I shouldn’t have felt bad—after all, this stranger is the one who said it—but I couldn’t help feeling like I was the one who made everything uncomfortable.

“Fourteen,” I finally replied, sighing, after clearing my throat. The woman grinned, a big beautiful smile, and pressed the button.

“Well hello neighbor! I’m on 14 as well, apartment 85.” I looked back over at her sheepishly. “Expect to climb a lot of stairs. This elevator is out of order more often than it’s working.”

“Of course it is,” I commented dryly. Well, at least it appeared to be working on the day I needed it to be. Hopefully that luck holds true for grocery days, too. I thought. “Stairs aren’t a problem. Besides, it gives me an excuse to drink a third cup of coffee in the mornings.”

The woman laughed. “Sometimes I need at least five. Don’t have kids.” the stranger joked.

“You have kids?” I asked.

“Three.” She started, “Two sweet girls, Bridget and Kassie. And my boy, Danny, who is always the culprit if you hear loud music coming from my place.”

“Wow you've got a handful then.” I replied. “I’ve always wanted kids… but it doesn’t seem in my cards anymore.” I winced, and wanted to kick myself so bad for accidentally sounding super melancholic.

The woman nodded kindly, smart enough not to pry. Or maybe she just didn't want to entertain depressing, deep conversation with someone she met less than 3 minutes ago.

“I’d shake your hand…” the woman said, her voice hesitant as if she could sense the awkward tension in the elevator, “but…” she glanced pointedly at the box, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I appreciate the concern for my dishes.”

“Dishes,” she said, staring at the box. “Well, that explains things.”

Like the fact that it’s a lot heavier than you thought it would be , I thought, and couldn't hold in my chuckle.

“My name’s Ellie.” The stranger—or Ellie, apparently—looked over at me. “By the way. Since we’re… Going to be neighbors.” This time, Ellie was the one who cringed.

“Well then, neighbor.” I stressed the word around my smile. “I’m Greta.”

“Greta.” Ellie said. My name sounded so pleasant coming from her lips compared to my own. I quickly eliminated that thought from my mind.

“Ellie.” I intoned in the same manner, and Ellie laughed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open; Ellie inclined her head, as if to say you first , and I nod as I step through the doors.

“I probably should have warned you that I live all the way at the end of the hall.” I shifted the box in my arms and glanced over at Ellie. “Before you decided to be a good samaritan.”

“I’m always a good samaritan,” Ellie responded, her tone of voice slightly defensive.

“Careful. You told me where you live. I might abuse that.” That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it, but Ellie just laughed, which slightly lifted my embarrassment.

I stepped through the doors of my apartment. I didn’t expect Ellie to be impressed—chances are we had the same exact apartment, hers just… properly decorated—so rather than trying to play the role of host, I simply led Ellie straight to where I put the box containing my disassembled Ikea kitchen table.

Ellie did, however, let out a low whistle as she looked around.

“Wow, you’ve been at this all day, haven't you?” She slipped the box on top of the Ikea box while I laid mine on the floor.

“Yes, tragically. I slept on the floor and left the truck full of my non-essential stuff last night. Looking back, I definitely should have gotten robbed.”

“Long drive then?”

“You could say that.. Knoxville.” I sighed.

“You're telling me you drove here… from Tennessee?” She looked at me, eyes wide in shock. “With seemingly no help?”

“Just me and god.” Ellie laughed at that, but then caught herself when she noticed my expression, and the cross on my necklace, and realized I was serious.

“Well, then… I’d be happy to help, if you’d like?”

“That’s really nice of you, Ellie, but I’m afraid you're just too late. Those were my last boxes.”

“I have impeccable timing, huh?”

“Seems like it.” We both laughed, a bit awkwardly.

“What brought you all the way to the City of Angels?” Ellie interjected, cutting the awkward tension once again.

I breathed a heavy sigh, “It’s a long story…”

“Well, you could tell it, if you come have dinner with me.”

I recoiled, “I couldn’t- No. No thank you, I really should start putting all this stuff away.”

Ellie put her hand on my arm, “I insist. My husband, Jay, is making steak tonight and when he cooks, he cooks for a village.” Not that 3 children isn't a village.

I flinched, then relaxed slightly under the hand on my arm, I looked up at Ellie, contemplating, but there was little I would do to argue. I was exhausted, and I shouldn’t decline free food, even from a stranger. “I suppose I can't say no.”

------------

That night was the first, and the only time in a long time I felt safe.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Ellie outside of that night. She was a very busy woman, and I was constantly trying to find work, or locking myself in my apartment stressing about trying to find work. I often passed her in the hallway, or stopped to chat while doing laundry, but that was the extent. For the most part.

We were also very different, spiritually and morally. She wasn’t religious and I was not going to try and convert an entire family of 5. Our lives were just very different, as much as I felt drawn to her. I often, for some reason, constantly had the gnawing ache to go back to her apartment and spend time with her, and just be in her presence more than I should. It’s a feeling I have felt before, when I was young, and something deep rooted in my consciousness told me I shouldn’t give into that ache.

‘For god cannot be tempted by desire, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.’

I found out about her divorce when we crossed paths in the hall. It came as a shock, to an extent. Externally they seemed like the perfect couple, but being their neighbor, I had heard a fair number of screaming matches between the two of them. Divorce is something my family has always been against, especially when there are children involved; however, I believe that God would forgive Ellie if her husband abandoned her.

Ellie was a kind person; Ellie does not deserve Hell.

Ellie’s family –by the looks of it– is still alive in her apartment. As long as no one in the apartment has been possessed, it is possible they can be saved.

I just have to, you know, get there, without the demon in the hall ripping me to shreds before I take a step.

I sit at my desk, chewing on my cheek as I think out the most insane, ludicrous plan to save my neighbors, and to free my family from this book that has haunted us for generations.

There is an estimated 10 percent chance of getting out of this alive, but there are little alternative options.

There was a shotgun in the hallway.

If I can get ahold of it, and subdue Ellie long enough for her family to let me in, I can get ahold of the book, and with it, and my great-great grandfather's journals, I could find a way to get us all out alive.

That is, if they will even let me in, and if the book is even with Ellie’s family. This is where my odds drop further.

This plan is flawed. It is dangerous. It is stupid.

But I am all of those things, yet God has kept me alive, so perhaps there is hope to be found somewhere.

As I pack the journals into my bag, and I pull my largest and sharpest knife from the kitchen, I feel the full weight of my mortality sit upon my chest.

I am mad for this.

But what is my life going to be otherwise? What did God keep me alive through so much for? I have to have faith.

I bear the knife in my hand, and wrap a rosary around my arm and wrist. My bible is held in my bag and I stand before the door to my death once again, praying for my father’s forgiveness if I mess this up.

As I carefully unlock the piece of wood separating me and the Devil, I go white-knuckled on my knife, and I feel bile begin to creep up. I am already out of breath due to panic, dissociating out of my mind, and trembling so forcefully that my teeth chatter. I bite my tongue until I taste blood, and I push open the door.

I am not sure how I want to do this, but planning now would only exhaust me further, and I need to think on my feet.

Grab the gun, shoot the demon, get inside.

I take a few, quiet, petrified steps into the hallway and look around the corner when I see-

Kassie?

Ellie’s youngest daughter is standing in the hallway, moving to help a young, dark-haired woman off the ground. From what I have heard, this is Ellie’s sister, Beth, whom I have heard referred to as ‘The Groupie’ from various neighbors.

Their attention turns to me, Beth looks shocked, eyes wide, as she moves to grab the shotgun from what I now sickeningly realize is the corpse of Mr. Fonda.

The smell, Christ. I have sworn off vomiting again, but my body desperately wants to overrun my mind at this moment. I fight bile and slowly approach them. Kassie puts a finger over her lips, assuring I know to stay quiet.

Where are Bridget and Danny? I already know, at least, I should already know. My twisted mind does not choose to process that in the moment, only focusing on the two people merely 20 feet from me.

It is my fear that allows me a keenness to sound -even over my heartbeat in my ears- and I hear the cracking of glass and bone behind me as I begin to pass Ellie’s apartment.

No.

Please, God, don’t let this happen to me now. Not when I’m this close.

I freeze, because I am a prey animal, no matter what anyone says, in this building, right now, I am prey, and as a prey animal, I have developed the intuition of knowing when I am being watched.

Its gaze is fixed on me, and I am all taut muscle and dilated pupils underneath it. I know it is behind me, and I know with every fiber of my being that I am going to die if I do not move.

But my body will not allow my muscles to relax enough to bend my limbs.

I am gripping the knife in my hand for dear life and my eyes are locked with Beth’s, who is, currently, my only hope in surviving this. The groupie raises the shotgun, and points it behind me. It is then that I decide to turn and look at-

There is a hand on my neck.

There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck.

It is cold and wet and awful and I set my jaw and every muscle in my throat tenses more than they already were. My teeth threaten to break each other under the force caused by my fear.

I attempt to drive the knife into the flesh behind me, when my arm is caught in the grasp of another hand. The grip is tighter than the sickeningly gentle hold on my neck, and its claws dig deep into the tendons of my wrist, making me scream out in pain, my eyes screwing shut as my hand involuntarily releases the knife.

There is a wet, breathy, crackling chuckle behind me, and the grip on my neck releases, and I open my tear-filled eyes, only to be thrown into the door across from Ellie's apartment.

It is on me swiftly after that. It grabs my wrist again and pins it against the door, like it’s body alone wasn’t doing that enough.

Its stare is predatory and piercing, nothing like Ellie’s once was. It is feral, and it's burning into me. Wide, consuming and unblinking as it stares down at me, I am drowning in it. Pupils like a pinpoint amongst a pale blue, scleras dark and bloodshot.

It leans down for an awful moment, a pit forms in my stomach and I want to vomit as it licks the blood dripping down my forearm from its claws.

I look over its shoulder at Beth, who Kassie is hiding behind and gripping for dear life.

“Please.” It is my voice that pleads, but I have never heard myself so breathless nor shrill.

“Pl…ease.” The demon's voice mocks me, eyes still burning into mine. It's voice hoarse and deep and repulsive, but the thing that makes me want to upchuck more than anything, is that I can still hear Ellie's voice underneath it. Sweet, funny, no-bullshit Ellie Bixler, consumed by the Devil.

Beth is looking at me now, fear in her wide eyes, as she aims the gun down sight for a moment, aiming directly at the demon.

Pull the trigger.

PULL THE GODDAMN TRIGGER.

This is my apex of disaster. This is all that my mind has been made to handle. I have hit the limit of my unluckiness and hit it so damn hard I might as well have heard a comedically timed ‘bang’ and seen stars dancing around my head.

Beth is unmoving, and my breath catches in my throat as I choke out a strangled sob when I see the woman mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before the shotgun it aimed at the door to apartment 82, and it is blasted open.

The demon before me jolts upright, but doesn't take its smothering gaze off of me, even when Beth grabs Kassie and runs through the door.

My fate is sealed as the door slams behind her, and all that is heard is the clanking of the security chain lock, as Beth well and truly escapes.

Then there is a deafening silence…

…A pattering of footsteps…

…Heavy, excited, wheezy, panting.

An excited panting that is coming from the creature before me.

This is where my faith in God has led me. Like my father, and his father, and the father before him. All of my life, and all of their lives, have led to this very moment. My death will be the fated coup de grâce of our cursed bloodline.

I am crucified to my place, paralyzed from the neck down as it looks upon me. I am fated to be consumed by this monster. This is my destiny.

#ellie bixler #ellie x reader #evil dead rise ellie #ellie evil dead #expect this to be gross in future chapters #this is my corruption kink fic and will be VERY graphic #do not expect ellie to be nice #i love deadites sm #and i want her to be as nasty as possible #evil dead rise #evil dead oc #yes greta is related to the priest who made the records #and her family is tormented bc of it

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painfullyprickedandticked · 13 days

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i dont think striker and alastor are characters who are "precious senpais who did nothing wrong" i just don't think they're as reprehensible as valentino or stella. their actions aren't excusable, no, but they aren't near that level of abhorrent.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #satu's unpopular opinions #alastor hazbin hotel #helluva boss striker #comparing an asexual character to a rapist is one bad take but comparing a minority character to a racist abusive rich woman?#I get all four of these characters have unbearable apologists but Jesus fucking christ some of you are actually INSANE with your takes #on striker and alastor specifically like do you not ever realize how YIKES it is to compare the few ace characters to the SEX TRAFFICKER #OR SOMEONE WHOS IMPLIED TO HAVE LOST EVERYTHING TO ROYALTY ... COMPARING HIM TO THE ABUSIVE RACIST ROYAL LADY #WHO HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE WORKING FOR???#She’s abused her husband in front of her child and she mocks the fact he dissociated during sex yet that's comparable to someone who #at his very worst he has been a hit man with sadistic tendencies but even then it's never been on the levels of sadistic like crimson #IM NOT EXCUSING STRIKER OR ALASTORS ACTIONS BUT CHRIST!!! CHRIST ALMIGHTLY YOU GUYS ARE SOMETIMES UNBELIEVABLE #“Alastor is completely evil” is possibly the dumbest fucking thing bc if u know any basic lore you know he at least gives a shit #About Niffty. About Rosie and Mimzy. He loved his mother. His father was an abusive piece of shit #Not excusing mass murder nor the cannibalism but its likely to note he probably only became cannibal in death bc already being mixed race -#- AND A SERIAL KILLER IN THE 30S? IN LOUISIANA??? HE WOULDN'T HAVE EVEN LIVED TO 40 IF HE WAS ALSO A CANNIBAL FJFJFJ #again I'm not excusing how he treated Husk in episode 6 or how he kills people bc obviously there's no context for the latter #And the former is ... EUGH #but also I saw someone say he'd be raping Husk if he wasn't asexual and to that I say fuck you #I /will/ say that he isn't gonna redeem! I don't want him to redeem lol! him being nasty is what makes him interesting #mostly morally black yet there's some grey in there like he has layers... how did he get there...#I just don't think he's Valentino’s level of bad #Striker I'm gonna be lenient on this time because some of you are actually vile comparing him to Stella or even Valentino #Actually stop comparing any character to Valentino that isn't one of the Vees bc holy shit that's so disgusting to read as an SA survivor

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sunriseseance · 10 months

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Hi, I’m so sorry this ask is long and probably messy but I saw you talking about Allison and Klaus and I’ve been thinking about them a lot so here’s something:

I’ve seen a lot of people hating on Allison at the end of season 3 for making a deal with Reginald and “getting Luther and Klaus killed” when she clearly didn’t know that was gonna happen and there’s no way she would agree to do that.

Like they specifically have a problem with her making a deal with Reggie but, what do they think Klaus was doing? Do they think he was too stupid or too naive to make a deal? Is it not a deal if they don’t shake hands? Because I think Klaus was playing his own game and they just fell for the “I’m hanging out with dad because he’s nice now” act.

Reginald tried to use both of them to get the others on board with his plan but that didn’t work because, despite everything, they still respected their siblings decisions. Allison could have rumored everyone and be done, but instead she committed the crime of… actually talking to them and maybe putting on a fake smile? Klaus could’ve been very manipulative and insistent, enough that Lila told him to back off.

In the end, Luther got killed because they weren’t willing to go that far and Reginald had to find another way.

Yep yep yep. I think you are 100% correct. Allison clearly did not know what she was agreeing to, and she risked everything she could to undo the harm.

People have been falling for Klaus's shtick since the first week after season 1 came out. He says he is just a carefree silly who doesn't know better and can't do anything and the fandom says "yep!" or "I can't believe the writers would do this to him" instead of looking at the incongruencies as deliberate choices for them to examine. This is regrettably not new.

I think it is worth SERIOUSLY questioning why people are so charitable with Klaus and assume the absolute worst possible of Allison. Because you have hit the nail on the head. They are extremely similar characters, who have almost 100% the exact same flaws, and yet one is the fandom darling and the other's tag is about 80% people talking about how much they hate her.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #tua meta #HOW FUN to use that tag again thank you anon!!!!!!!!!!!!#I missed out on s3 meta because I was doing chemo for stage 3 cancer #so it is nice to get back into it.#also: I am going to hear about Allison sexually assaulting Luther #1. she stopped. She realized what she was doing and she stopped.#2. Klaus has issues in that department as well #which is natural!!! They were child trafficked soldier billionaires and both used their charisma or LITERAL POWERS to get what they want #Of fucking course they are messed up in that way #She stopped. She is not an irredeemable monster. She is a person who went through THE WORST THING POSSIBLE and had some nasty reactions #Get the fuck off her ass

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 1 year

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why does everything have to be a hecking issue with my sister

#she keeps getting on my case about the Theatre Boy thing which I would just like to hecking leave in the past #she keeps getting on my case bc I wear short shorts and spaghetti strap tank tops AROUND THE HOUSE AS LOUNGE CLOTHES #she's like DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT MODESTY and I'm like YOU WALK AROUND IN SHORTS AND A SPORTS BRA ALL THE TIME #(possibly bc I thought I could get away with wearing lounge clothes with a long shawl thing overtop the other day to worship practice #but I did in fact change my trousers after my mama pointed out that it wasn't super modest)#she keeps making comments about how I do inappropriate stuff on my phone bc I... watch one(1) sitcom?????#shows like that are IRREVERENT AS HECK like come on of course I'm not going to be totally open with my kid sister about them #I am an ADULT I can make my own choices about what content I will put up with in media #I can make my own choices about clothing if I think my mom's idea of ''anything more than an inch above the knee #is immodest'' is silly and restrictive for my body shape and comfort level personally #like... why does she have to act so high and mighty around me? she's in MIDDLE SCHOOL and I know I haven't always been the nicest to her #but I'm making the effort. I'm trying to get along with her and what I get is disdain on the daily in return :/#our mom said it's probably bc she was hoping I wouldn't move back in so she'd have our room to herself and now she's mad #that I'm back bc she has to share a space again and like I KNOW middle school ages SUCK I've BEEN THERE #but still I just. want to get along. but she picks on me and then I get frustrated and then I snap at her and it just doesn't end well #it's a nasty cycle tbh. I'm praying about it.#Lu rambles #personal #delete later

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david-watts · 10 months

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it's that time of the night where I want to have a nice fancy burger. maybe it's just like. oogh need carbs need meat need the happy chemicals from food that doesn't make me want to off myself or that it's been like ten hours since I last ate

#I feel like there's about five different things preventing me from truly feeling good about eating #one of them's health related one's mental illness related the main one as I often bemoan #I live with a grandmother who thinks that hashbrowns/chicken soup/peas/cornflakes as a casserole sounds good #and will get incredibly rude and nasty if you dare not want her cooking #that is either Bad to mediocre served at the wrong time (think six o'clock when we don't get home til eight) or when neither of us #are hungry due to medication side effects or just because the food is Evil #I know I can talk my cooking is fairly bad and possibly dangerous #but. the horror that is her sweet and sour sauce recipes. her curry. her casseroles.#the meal that was grey unidentifiable mince served with microwaved potato and gravy that genuinely looked #like the hospital food we still make fun of four years later because it looked like actual slimy shits.#and then we discovered that I dodged a massive bullet by immediately spitting it out since it was a week expired when it was cooked #and the freezer had done it no favours. yeah the 'mysterious' stomach upset that I avoided was Food Poisoning.#yeah like when we can't even guarantee ingredients won't be used in those sorts of horrors (and genuinely they are horrors)#it's fairly difficult to ensure that you're gonna eat. not only well in the technical sense but things you like and enjoy

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mythvoiced · 11 months

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-. bro... i'm... bro this draft thing is actually working BRO- hehe~

#;ooc #;tbd #not kidding i'm? i mean i've got still A WHOLE lot left to write very many lmao BUT I'M ACTUALLY WRITING nobody move lest we break the spel #i'm also reading the picture of dorian gray finally and lmao it's? bro it's genuinely funny sometimes #every time lord henry opens his nASTY NASTY mouth he says something that makes me lose my wits he's hilarious #he can't possibly be serious ALAS ALAS i want to hurt him #i can't explain him he's obviously like... the worst he's a scumbag lmao but the way he loves himself is hilarious to me #when dorian walks in 'so about this actress' i am OBSESSED with the way he seems more obsessed with her work than her as a person #when he speaks of her as the character she's portraying that evening i get so violent because i love it #her brother is So Right btw pls don't leave come back we need you #also i read there's murder in this? i gasped and swooned i LOVE murder #DEADASS I?? I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS BOOK MAKES ME GIGGLE IN EVIL GLEE #i can't WAIT for it to all go awfully to hell YES #anyways i'm proud of what i wrote just now so i'm taking another break and making mself another cuppa~#when i'm back i wanna write something for Calista & Sarang so LYNNIE IF YOU SEE THIS HELLO LUV U~#tschüssie~

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yuridovewing · 1 year

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doesnt matter much bc idk how much content ill make for it anyways but i am so conflicted on whether i want the hawkleaf au to be in my hypothetical rewrite or not. because like i like the idea for that au because the melodrama gets pumped up even more and i love the whole "oh theyre firestar and tigerstars grandchildren.... but not the ones you think" thing, and how it makes the secret even more devastating, but also like. where the hell does that leave the windclan soap opera

#i mean feathertail lives in my au but i never liked feathercrow and even tho im aging up most of the cast #i still dont feel like pairing them up #so much of the interesting stuff you can do with crowfeather by leaning into him being a shitty guy is only possible if you keep #feathercrow and leafcrow #i want to keep breezepelt as a potential antagonist that eventually gets better but like again. SO much of that is rooted in leafcrow #i dont mind not seeing the windclan stuff as much bc hawkleaf would focus on the thunderclan consequences #as the only one in riverclan who'd care is mothwing who. honestly would probably already know #leopardstar and mistystar would probably hate that but leopard kicks the bucket soon after anyways #and tbh mistystar is so inconsistently written i just have no clue how to write her #maybe she hates it but shuts up when the brothers get exiled #ooooo maybe for an extra bit of nastiness riverclan grabs this whole thing and goes ''and this is why you cant take in loners''#and clan xenophobia only grows all that more powerful #anyways back to crow. i feel like since hes still going on the journey he should still be more involved afterwards #i like my initial idea i rambled about on main where hes still a shitty person but its less motivated by manpain #and more motivated by windclans civil war and perhaps that whole event made him turn against thunderclan #i soooorta want to do a thing similar to the po12 au where the other clans have prophecy cats?#but probably not bc the three's powers are seen as curses from the dark forest after the secret gets out #altho if i did do that then hmmm how would the other prophecy cats besides thunderclan react to all this #rewrite

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ajaxgb · 3 months

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Okay no I need to talk about the book version of Howl's Moving Castle. I love the movie but the book has such a different vibe and you, yes you, should read it.

Movie Howl is a soulful and quiet. Book Howl is a drama queen and Causing Problems and has a long string of jilted exes and couldn't shut up if you paid him.

Sophie and Howl drive each other up the wall at the beginning and it's really funny. Sophie and Howl are (despite themselves) very much in love by the end and they still drive each other up the wall and it's even funnier.

In the movie, Howl has been ordered by the king to participate in The War, and Howl is avoiding it because he is a brave conscientious objector. In the book, Howl has been ordered by the king to rescue his lost brother from the Witch of the Wastes, and Howl is avoiding it by any means necessary because he is a cowardly weasel who wants to stay as far from the Witch as possible.

In the movie, the Witch cursed Sophie because she was jealous about Howl speaking to Sophie for five minutes. In the book, the Witch cursed Sophie because Sophie had been doing surprisingly powerful magic for years without knowing it and it was actually starting to cut into the Witch's plans. (Sophie does not discover any of this until nearly the end of the book, but the reader can start to pick it up much earlier and the way Sophie's magic works is pretty darn cool.)

In the movie, there's a rumor that Howl eats the hearts of maidens, but this is implied to be nothing but nasty fearmongering. In the book, there's a rumor that Howl eats the hearts of maidens because Howl started the rumor so people would stop asking him to do wizard junk all the time.

The book lightly parodies a couple of tropes from Western fairy tales. In particular Sophie has internalized that, as the eldest of three sisters, her "destiny" is to fail so that her younger sisters will look cooler when they succeed, which is why she's so resigned to the hat shop at the beginning. (Sidebar: Sophie's sisters come up much more in the book and they're great.) There's also a really funny bit where Sophie attempts to operate a pair of seven-league boots.

In the movie, the fourth and final location that the magic door connects to is some sort of black void / mindscape / time portal dealy. In the book the fourth location is Wales, in the UK, on Earth, so that Howl can visit his family, because from Howl's perspective this is an isekai story.

#also there are two sequels #sophie and howl aren't the focus but they're still very good #howl's moving castle #howls moving castle #howl's moving castle the book my beloved #diana wynne jones #<- also read everything else she's ever written #me #my text post

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hecksupremechips · 7 months

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I love me some homoerotic torture 🥰

#the letter #the letter visual novel #i have not included the visuals for this scene cuz i just #i hate it ashton should not have those nasty anime boy abs they are DISGUSTING #the scene was so hot and then they did that to him what the fuck why would you offend me like this #alsjks but yeah no i just love the fucked up dynamic between johannes and luke so much #and damn we kinda were robbed of a johannes chapter hes like way too good to just be a side character #but idk what would be in his chapter or how itd possibly fit cuz my assumption is itd be like the marianne chapter #where its like the perspective of someone whos simply on the side working for the wrights who gets involved by association #and as much as i am obsessed with marianne like it does kinda show that her chapter wasnt part of the original version of this game #so i think johannes would be in the same boat and i do wonder if he was considered against marianne and they went with the latter #i definitely get it but still i do wish we were given just a wee bit more information about him #like he and luke dont really like each other at all but theyre glued at the hip #they cannot function without each other and its clear that luke essentially owns johannes and he cant escape this dynamic #unless he wants to have his life utterly ruined #so you can definitely see their relationship and think johannes is just this obedient servant who does as hes told even when its fucked up #but then this scene happens and its clear hes enjoying himself he loves torturing pretty boys who can blame him #HES NOT A BAD GUY HE JUST LOVES TO DO SOME FILTHY SINFUL THINGS #but unlike luke hes actually like a nice guy like he has an iconic solidarity with marianne hes sweet with kylie #he shows favoritism towards hannah and tries to warn her about luke trying to kill her and encourages her to leave him #and hes said to have a husband and kids so like hes got a loving family at home that he probably never gets to see #idk its just really interesting seeing him flip flop and you have no clue what his motives are or what he truly thinks #does he assist luke in murder because luke holds his life in his hands and they have a deal #or does he do it because he has a thirst for blood? or maybe it started as the former and devolved into the latter #aaghhhh its just very frustrating i am feasting on crumbs here i need more of my man i fucking LOVE this guy so much #if he wants to do torture i think he should get to cuz working with luke wright and being his fucking babysitter is ass

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sunsburns · 4 months

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good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him.

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis.

Which he didn't.

You let him win.

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together.

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise.

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one.

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right?

Right?

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief.

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker.

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you.

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette.

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips.

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you.

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art.

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back.

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you.

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin.

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past.

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread.

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room.

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too.

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair.

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see.

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you.

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath.

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back.

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head.

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face.

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly.

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you.

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips.

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below.

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes.

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own.

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache.

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction.

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake.

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you."

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips.

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer.

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop.

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger.

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch.

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard.

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man."

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm.

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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