#just missing Roxie hours

[arcticmist0324]

Up late at night missing my sweet cat, Roxie. She’s still with me in spirit.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

ive been playing. so much sky:cotl its so cute im in love w it

[sweet-as-kiwis]

Choosing a kitten to adopt is ROUGH

[s-4pphics]

where we meet. (e.w.)

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

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

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

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

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

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

As a dishwasher. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday. 

“You comin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

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

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

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

Where were you before this? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You woke up screaming. 

“Girl…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t sleep at all that night. 

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

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified. 

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

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

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

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

You’re not fucking crazy. 

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

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

… It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heavy exhale left her. 

“I… Something was…” she stuttered. 

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale. 

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was odd. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family. You almost broke down. 

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

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you come pick me up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened when we were at the club?” 

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

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

“I… I told you what happened— “

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

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

Celeste shook her head, “No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything around you went dark. 

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

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

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

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

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

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

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

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

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

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

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

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love me, Ellie… right? 

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred. 

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

Ellie… d-do you love me? 

O-Of course I do—

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

—

You were never a rebellious kid. 

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

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

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

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

Started drinking. 

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

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

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

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See? I can stop whenever I want. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Hm? 

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

But you didn’t believe her. 

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

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

… Are you fucking drunk right now? 

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

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

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

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

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

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night. 

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

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

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

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered. 

PRESENT

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doin’ here.” 

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

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

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

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

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

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you. 

She knows. She knew. 

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

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

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

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma’am?” 

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

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

Some silence passed before you spoke. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

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

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

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

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

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

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

It can’t be. 

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!” 

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

“Look at me! I love you!” 

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

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

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

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

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

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

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry— 

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar. 

“I love you more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“E-Ellie?” 

Silence. 

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

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!” 

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

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

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

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

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

A dark chuckle left you. 

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

You’re awake. And you’re angry. 

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

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

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

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

You’re going fucking crazy. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

“Fuck you.” 

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

“… What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

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

Ellie… Ellie, please… 

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark. 

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

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

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

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

“Miss me?” 

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you. 

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

What the fuck, what the fuck—

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

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

Is… Did she cut you with that? 

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

“E-Ellie?” 

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

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

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

What the fuck is going on… 

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

Her words were hardly registering. 

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

“You’ve… you’ve been looking for me?” 

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

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

Other side? “… Am I dead?” 

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

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

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

“… I— “

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

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

“… Why’m I here then?” 

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

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly. 

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

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

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

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

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

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

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

“Oh, she’s starving— “

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

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

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

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

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

… Is… Is she really…?

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

“E-Ellie, El— “

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

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

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

You missed her so fucking much. 

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

“You wanna watch?” 

No, no no please—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

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

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

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued. 

“So much fun.” 

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

“You’re a bad kisser.” 

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned. 

“Yes, dear?”

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

“Am… Am I…?”

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

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

“Will… Can I, can I cum?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

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

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

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

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

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

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

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

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

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

Ellie… 

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

Ellie… please…

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

I’m so sorry… 

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

I miss you so much… 

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

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

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

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

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

I love you… I love you… I love you… 

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

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

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

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

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you… 

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

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

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

You love me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you spoke first. 

You love me, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively. 

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

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed. 

A sad smile grew on your face. 

“Almost did…” 

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

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head. 

I wish I hated you. 

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

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

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

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

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels g-good? Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your stamina’s fucked.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.” 

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy? 

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

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

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

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

When you wake, there’s warmth. 

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

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

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm. 

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

—

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

@digit4lslut @hrtmal @sawaagyapong @starologist @shurisbigtoe @iamtootiredtopost @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @slutty4abby @chrry1ovr @moonchild184 @womenofarcane @ohlawdthebirds @ellabsprincess @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @dropsofs4turn @masclover111 @dyk3ang3l @zzzlove @jayy2inlovee @aandersonsbackpack @jade-posts-sometimes @elspeanut @elsbunny222 @alittlextrahoney @ultraviolenceellie @shamelessparty @0verthebluemoon @yuckyfucky

[raven-dor]

you give me butterflies

in which james sirius potter brings his girlfriend to spend the summer with him

PAIRING: james sirius potter x reader

WARNINGS: making out, fluff, james is adorable, family fun, more making out, just a lot of fluff

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

🎶 : butterflies - kacey musgraves

AN: hello all, i'm back!! hope you enjoy!

“Roxie, where are you?” Y/N’s voice rang through the house, the chaos screeching to a halt after the Potter-Weasley family heard her voice. She called out again, setting her bags by the bottom of the stairs. “I missed you!” 

Roxanne ran across the foyer, pushing her brother and cousins out of the way. “Y/N/N!” She scooped her friend up, spinning her around. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Your boyfriend was starting to-” 

“Starting to what?” James’s voice broke through their reunion. “Do you mind, Rox?” 

The girl scoffed, but let go regardless. “Whatever James.” She whispered to Y/N, hiding her head in her hands. “I can’t watch.”

Y/N giggled, patting her friend on the shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry Roxie, but you know how impatient he gets- Mmph!” James wrapped his arms around her waist, effectively silencing her with a kiss. “James!” 

He grinned, pulling away slowly. “You were supposed to be here hours ago, love.” 

She threw her head back in laughter. “James, I told you my parents wanted to have one last lunch before they sent me off.” “Yes well…” he sighed, playing with her fingers. “You know I love your parents, but…” 

“James.” 

He looked up, dropping her hand. “Yes?” 

“Less talking.” She smiled, pulling him back in. Or she tried to that is.

“James Sirius Potter, let the girl breathe.” James groaned, leaning his head against hers. “She just arrived and you’re already bombarding her.” 

He scoffed, mumbling. “For your information, she attacked me.” 

Mrs. Weasley scoffed back, and Y/N realized that more of his attitude came from his grandmother than he would like to admit. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.” He let go of Y/N kissing his grandmother on the cheek. “Nothing at all.” 

The old woman laughed, shooing her grandson away (although he didn’t stray very far, leaning against the doorway and staring at Y/N the way that made her knees weak.) “Come here, my dear, let me look at you.” Her cheeks flushed, walking forward slowly. “You’re quite the beauty. Jamie is quite a lucky boy.” 

Y/N smiled. “I’m much luckier, Mrs.Weasley. Your grandson is perfect.” 

“You’re inflating my ego, love.” 

She yelled over his grandmother’s shoulder. “I don’t think that’s possible, love.”

His grandmother smiled. “Full of spark as well, that's good, especially if you have to deal with him

” She hooked her arm through the young girl’s, dragging her into the kitchen (past James, who was stifling a laugh after looking at his girlfriend’s horrified face.) “You look positively frail, my dear. Here, I’ll show you the kitchen. I made rolls for dinner, but you can have some now if you’d like.” 

Y/N tried to open her mouth, but James interrupted. “She had lunch an hour ago, Grannie.” 

“Ah. Well, still.” Mrs. Weasley let go, building a plate for her. “It wouldn’t hurt.” 

Y/N smiled, taking it gratefully. “Thank you, it’s very sweet of you.” 

Mrs. Weasley smiled, patting her on the shoulder before playfully glaring at her grandson. “Behave yourself, James Sirius.” 

James saluted, grabbing Y/N’s arm and pulling her back to the foyer. “Here, I’ll help you with your bags.” 

“James, you really don’t need to do that.” 

“I want to.” He kissed her on the cheek quickly before grabbing both bags. “Follow me.” 

She had to, she’d never been to his home before. She’d been to Roxie and Fred’s, the Burrow, Rose and Hugo’s, and the Weasley’s beach cottage, but never her own boyfriend’s home. 

In her defense, she’d been friends with Rose, Roxie, and Dominque long before she had started dating James. 

“Your house is wonderful, Jamie.” 

“It’s been in the family for generations. The Potter side, that is.” He stopped at the end of the hallway, opening the door. “Here we are, your room for the summer.” 

“It’s-” She stopped, gasping at the room. “This is too much.” 

“What do you mean?” James raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?” 

“No, don’t apologize.” She grinned, turning around. “Have I mentioned you’re perfect?” 

He shrugged, stalking toward her with a boyish grin on his face. “Once or twice.” 

She jumped on the bed, urging him to follow. “Perhaps I should show you?” 

He grinned, pulled his wand out of his back pocket, and slammed the door shut. “You drive me wild.” 

She laughed, covering her face with her hands. “James, stop trying to make me blush.” 

“I’m not trying.” He whispered, leaning down until they were inches apart. “You’re very easy to compliment. It’s not my fault you get all red and adorable.” 

“He did what?” Y/N laughed. “That’s not what I was told.” 

George nodded. “And what exactly did my dear nephew tell you?” 

“It wasn’t just James. Both he and Fred convinced me that the car was given to them. They told me that they were supposed to wait for their grandfather to teach them how to drive it.” 

The table burst into laughter yet again, and James looked like he wanted to murder his cousin. He hissed, kicking Fred under the table. “You just had to tell him.” 

George leaned forward, drawing the focus back to him. “The boys were never supposed to get the car, it was supposed to be Hugo and Albus’s. They stole the car, and had the whole family searching for them for two days.” 

Y/N gasped, cackling while she clutched onto James’s arm for support. “You absolute nuisance.” 

Harry smirked. “Quite.” 

Ginny shook her head. “Don’t encourage him. After we found them, this nuisance was then grounded for two weeks.” 

James glared, sticking his tongue out childishly at his mother. “The worst two weeks of my life.” 

“I thought you said the worst two weeks were when McGonagall made you clean out the toilets for that prank you pulled in fourth year.” 

He tilted his head. “Well… that would have to be a close second.” 

Y/N laughed, kissing his cheek gently. “Ever the dramatic.” 

She had just drifted off to sleep when her door was flung open. She grabbed the covers, pulling them up. “Who is it?” 

The light illuminated the intruder, and she sighed, jumping out of her bed and pulling him in the room. “What are you doing? I thought you said your parents had wards on all your rooms.” 

“I did.” He nodded, shutting the door behind him. “But I also know how to deactivate those wards.” 

“Ah.” She grinned. “James, what are you doing in here?” 

“Fred, Dom, Roxie, Al, Lil, Hugo, Rose, Lucy, and the rest of the cousins are going down to the lake. I thought…” He inched toward her, draping an arm over her waist. “You’d want to come with.” 

Her eyes sparked. “Let me find my bathing suit!” 

James turned around, tapping his foot as he took in his surroundings. “I’m sure whichever one you pick will look perfect.” 

She smiled, crossing her arms. “You can turn around now.” 

“About ti-” His jaw dropped. “Godric. You’re an angel.” 

She scoffed, her whole body flushing. It felt like she was burning, especially with the way James was staring at her. “Stop it.” She walked past him, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go.” 

“Marco!” James called out, flailing his arms around as he tried to catch anyone around him. The rest of them laughed, muffling themselves so he wouldn’t find them. Roxie leaned over, whispering in her friend's ear. “He’s utterly helpless.” 

Y/N nodded. “You think he would be better at this game, with all his athletic ability.” 

James scoffed. “I can hear you two.” 

They shrieked, paddling away. Fred yelled out, creating a diversion. “Polo!” 

James whipped around, racing toward his cousin. Albus laughed. “He’s too entertained by this game.” 

Y/N nodded, getting out of the lake and laying beside him. “It’s sweet.” 

Lilly laughed. “Of course, you think so. You have to say that.” She sat up, wiggling her eyebrows. “The Boyfriend-girlfriend code and whatnot.” 

Y/N shrugged. “Whatever you say Lils.” 

Fred cackled and drew their attention away from their conversation. “He’ll never get me!” 

James groaned, opening his eyes. Fred gasped. “That’s cheating.” 

“I don’t care.” James teased. “Start swimming.” 

Roxie hissed. “Don’t get too loud or the parents will find out.” She laid her head on Y/N’s lap, picking at a daisy. “Technically speaking, we’re not supposed to be out here this late.” 

Molly rolled her eyes. “Roxie, come on. Live a little.” 

Lucy shook her head. “We should all listen to Roxie a little more. Remember last time they found out?” 

Hugo laughed, nodding. “When were were nine?” The rest of the cousins started laughing too. “They don’t care anymore. Relax Lu. Go back to your book.” 

Lucy scoffed, sticking out her tongue. “Fine, I will.” 

A shadow cast over the pair, and before they could react, James started shaking off his lake water on them. “James!” Roxie and Y/N shrieked, but he didn’t stop. He grinned, crossing his arms. “The both of you- scratch that- the lot of you are quitters. Fred and I were the only ones playing.” He glared at his girlfriend. “Your betrayal hurts.” 

She jutted her bottom lip out, feigning empathy. “Forgive me, love.”

He sighed. “If you insist.” Popping his hip, he stared at his cousin until she opened her eyes. 

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. “May I help you?” 

He nodded. “I believe you’re in my spot.” 

“Finders keepers Potter.” She closed her eyes, leaning back. “There’s room beside her.” 

James scoffed. “Actually, come to think of it…” He extended his hand. “I have a surprise for you.” 

“Oh?” Y/N grinned. “What kind of surprise?” 

Everyone groaned, Lily, going so far as to gag. “Godric you two, take it somewhere else.” 

James hissed at his sister. “That’s what I’m trying to do Lily.” 

Roxanne whined. “Please don’t move Y/N/N. I just got comfortable.” 

Y/N laughed. “Roxie…” 

Fred smirked. “She’s using her ‘get out of detention’ voice.” 

“Roxie, can you please move?” She smiled sweetly. “I promise tomorrow I’ll be all yours.” 

James scoffed. “What-” 

Y/N whipped her head up, widening her eyes. “Please?” 

Roxanne rolled over, releasing her friend. “Fine, fine.” 

Y/N grabbed James hand, following after him eagerly. Albus laughed. “They’re smitten.” 

Lucy sighed, looking up from her book. “They’re adorable.” 

Louis smiled. “They’re getting married.”

“Who’s getting married?” Another voice broke through the comfortable arguing. 

“Teddy!” Lily and Albus jumped up, racing toward her godbrother. He grinned, catching both of them effortlessly. “Helga, I missed you two!” 

“Victorie!” The rest of the cousins raced toward the eldest, grinning. They quickly sat back down in a huddle, gossiping about the missing couple. Molly leaned forward. “So why do you think they’re getting married?” 

Teddy laughed. “Besides the fact that James wrote me and said he wants to marry her? Not much.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “We all know James is dramatic, we don’t know what will happen.” 

Roxanne turned around, tilting her head curiously at her brother. “So you don’t think they’re going to get married?” 

“I didn’t say that.” Fred grinned. “Sometimes, when James is sleeping, I can hear him talking about her.”

Albus laughed, shaking his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Salazar, he’s humiliating himself.” 

“James, take your hands off of my eyes.” 

“What good is a surprise if you can’t see the awe on your face?” They stopped. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Whenever you are.” 

“Prepare to be amazed.” He pulled back his hands. “What do you think?” 

Y/N tilted her head. “Jamie… it’s a wall.” 

He sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh sweet sweet Y/N.” He hooked his arm around her waist. “Hold on.”

“Hold on? Why would I-” She gasped, grabbing his waist. They floated past the first floor, past the second, and the third, landing on the roof facing the sunrise. “James.” She let go, walking closer to the edge. “This is beautiful.” 

She turned around, kissing him gently. “Consider me surprised.” 

“Glad I could be of service.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I- I have to tell you something.” 

“Tell me something.” She whispered, their eyes locked in a dangerous dance. 

“I-” He swallowed thickly. “I lo-” She lept up, colliding their lips.

“I love you too.” 

He grinned, shaking his head. “You didn’t even let me finish my sentence.” 

“I’m sorry.” She smirked. “You were saying?”

He nodded. “Good. As I was saying…” He stared at her again, his cheeks bright red. “I love you.” 

“James…” She smiled. 

“Yeah?” 

“In the future, please make sure the surprise doesn’t face your cousins.” 

“What-” He looked behind her, laughing. “They’ve been watching us the whole time haven’t they?” 

She nodded, laying her head in the crook of his neck. “Yeah, they have.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you WIP excerpt behind the cut, as promised, friends; 7k of kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit. (and non-chrono link for anyone on the app.)

Tana Moon follows Leech over to the group, looking a little wary herself. Tim sizes her up in his peripheral vision, pretending not to notice her approach. He’s “just” found out who his soulmate is, so he can sell the illusion of only paying attention to Superboy right now. It’s not an unusual reaction. 

It’s a pretty typical one, actually. The fact that Superboy decided to immediately show him off to everyone he knows is actually the less usual option, in fact. Not unheard of either, of course, but still. A lot of newly-discovered soulmates tend to just forget about the outside world for a few hours. Or days, even. A few missing person cases that Tim’s been involved in solving turned out to be cases of “I met my soulmate and we just eloped/ran away/went on a road trip/holed up in a hotel room without telling anyone”. 

Tim had thought it was ridiculous at the time, if obviously preferable to ending up with either a dead body or a traumatized victim, but Tim is currently in the process of planning an ethically-necessary kidnapping less than twenty-four hours after first cracking into Superboy’s file, so he supposes soulmates just bring out most people’s less pragmatic sides. 

Though he personally thinks carefully-planned ethical kidnappings are an improvement on spontaneous weekends in Vegas, pragmatically-speaking. But whatever. 

“He showed you?” Tana Moon says, glancing Tim over suspiciously. Superboy’s face reddens this time and he tugs at the slash in his own suit. 

“He, uh, saw mine first,” he says. “Kinda got into it with a dude downtown and Tim here was in the area, and like, he recognized it, obviously.”

“It’s fairly noticeable as a mark,” Tim supplies helpfully, figuring he should be being supportive of his soulmate here, and also be shutting Rex Leech up as efficiently as possible. “And Superboy came over to check on me after the fight, so it was hard to miss.” 

“Sure it was,” Leech says, his face souring. “So then you won’t mind showin’ yours to–” 

“Shut up, Dad!” Roxy hisses, kicking him viciously hard in the ankle. Leech yelps in pain. Roxy is immediately his favorite, Tim decides. By far Roxy is his favorite. The dog’s kind of cute and Dubbilex seems decent, but definitely Roxy is his favorite. 

Her dad definitely fucking sucks, though. 

And as for Tana Moon . . . 

“You’re a tourist?” Tana says, just barely frowning down at Tim. She’s taller than him. She’s also taller than Superboy, because she’s a grown-ass woman and why, exactly, is a reporter even here right now? How is that necessary or reasonable? 

. . . admittedly she’s also taller than Leech and he’s a middle-aged man, but that’s not the point here. If Tim has to “no comment” this situation and figure out how to get either his parents or Bruce to kill a story, he absolutely will. He isn’t even slightly gonna hesitate there. He is gonna the opposite of hesitate, in fact. 

“Yes,” he lies, which might not endear him to Moon, given she’s a native, but is better than confessing to having premeditated designs on kidnapping a teen idol superhero. Especially to a reporter. 

Even if it is legally salvage. 

“I’m just in town for the day,” he continues. “I needed to get away for a little while, you know how it is.” 

“Sure,” Moon says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who doesn’t.” 

“He’s from Gotham. And he helped the civilians get out of the area while I was fighting that guy downtown!” Superboy says eagerly, which is . . . odd, actually, and throws Tim off a bit. That seems like a weird thing for Superboy to be eager about, considering. Like . . . just very weird. 

“Well, that’s a Gotham thing, probably,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish Civilian Smile (#7). “We’re used to rogue attacks with area of effect concerns involved, so we get pretty good at clearing a street.” 

“You did awesome,” Superboy says, grinning excitedly at him. That is . . . still weird, yeah. Tim really doesn’t get it. 

Well, maybe Superboy’s just relieved to have a soulmate who knows how to stay out of the line of fire and what to do in a crisis, given how often crisises probably come up in his life. That would make sense, considering. 

“It was nothing, just a little light crowd control,” Tim tries, assuming that’s what a normal civilian would say. Probably, right? Almost definitely. “Nobody even needed any urgent medical attention. And you used your TTK really strategically and contained the guy too, that was much more impressive to pull off in a mess like that.” 

Yeah, that was normal civilian talk, he thinks, pleased with himself for managing it. 

Superboy turns pink, then grins again. Dubbilex . . . tilts his head. 

Normal. Normal. Normal civilian. That’s what Tim is. A civilian! Who’s normal! Very, very normal! 

Normal. 

He smiles Normal Civilian Smile #4 and pats Krypto’s head again. Krypto makes an enthusiastic attempt at licking his fingers off. 

Ew. 

“‘Light crowd control’,” Moon echoes. That’s what Tim said, yeah, so he’s not sure why she’s repeating it. Well–reporter, again, so It’s probably a trap. 

It’s almost definitely a trap, actually. 

Really definitely it’s a trap. 

“Sorry to just show up like this, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says to Roxy and Dubbilex with a smile, politely pretending not to be ignoring Moon. He is definitely ignoring Moon, though. Again: reporter. She may not be a Lois Lane or even a Vicki Vale, but he’s still not giving her any information he can avoid giving her. And he’ll just ignore Leech while he’s at it, too. 

“I invited you, man!” Superboy says with a laugh, shaking his head. “We’re gonna hit the beach for a while, go hang out. Just swung by to grab Tim a swimsuit I can lend him.” 

“You came to Hawaii to ‘get away’ and didn’t pack a swimsuit?” Moon says skeptically. 

“Yup,” Tim replies with the most placidly innocent expression he’s ever worn in his life. Nothing. He is giving her nothing. Let all her reporter instincts strike against mirrored glass and high-security privacy windows and come to naught. 

Moon stares at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to fill it. Tim doesn’t fall for the incredibly obvious bait and just keeps the placidly innocent expression on. 

She frowns. 

“C’mon, man,” Superboy says cheerfully, apparently–and fortunately–oblivious to their stand-off. He grabs Tim’s arm and drags him towards the front porch. Tim seriously doubts its structural stability, from the look of it, but tactile telekinesis is hard to argue with. 

The steps manage not to collapse–possibly also because of tactile telekinesis, Tim can’t help suspecting–and Superboy pulls him straight into the house, which is . . . not particularly well taken care of, no surprise. The furniture looks like it all came from a thrift store, and not a nice thrift store. 

Admittedly Tim’s upbringing might be showing here, but also the corners need swept and there’s random boxes of assorted Superboy merch everywhere, most of which looks like cheap junk, and a huge stack of mail and four empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and overflowing trash cans with random junk scattered around, and it’s just . . . it doesn’t look taken care of, no. Which is something Tim would expect from a teenager or two, and maybe Dubbilex doesn’t know how chore wheels work or whatever, but fucking Rex Leech should at least be capable of getting out the broom once a week. 

Assuming there is one, anyway. Tim isn’t particularly optimistic on that one, honestly. 

Superboy’s room is even messier than the living room, covered in dirty clothes and abandoned comics and crumpled-up papers, but Tim’s bedroom looks like a bomb went off in it so he’s not gonna judge. Anyway, that’s Superboy’s personal space, not a common area. He can keep it however he likes, Tim figures. 

Somebody should really sweep that living room, though. And throw out those old pizza boxes, too. 

Tim isn’t judging, just–well, no, he is very much judging, actually. Specifically what he’s judging is Rex Leech, noted asshole sleazeball manager with predatory business tactics. 

Fuck that guy, seriously. 

“You want trunks or a speedo?” Superboy asks as he lets go of his arm to fly over to the cluttered dresser. Tim turns seventeen different shades of red and nearly disassociates. 

“Trunks,” he says quickly. “Please.” 

“Gotcha, man,” Superboy says easily, and then all the dresser drawers yank out at once and dump out crumpled piles of . . . mostly swimsuits and super-suits, it looks like, yeah. Like, basically nothing else but swimsuits and super-suits and a couple of cheesy-looking Hawaiian shirts. 

Well, that might be one lonely, lonely pair of cutoffs sticking out from underneath the swimsuits. But otherwise, that’s pretty much it, yeah. 

Fuck, that’s depressing, Tim thinks. 

Superboy comes back over with an armful of swimsuits, just about all of which have the S-shield either printed or stitched on them. Tim wonders why the guy even has this many swimsuits, especially considering he barely has any other clothes at all. At least not as far as he can see, anyway. 

He also wonders if he’s gonna die if he wears Superboy’s clothes. Is that a thing that might happen? Because it really might happen, yeah. 

Also wearing something with an S-shield on it feels like just a little too much to handle right now, so Tim’s hoping for a basic black option to be buried somewhere in that pile. Given Superboy’s apparent fashion sense, it seems unlikely, but hope springs eternal. 

“Take a look, see what’s good,” Superboy says, dumping the entire armful of swimsuits on Tim. Tim’s just grateful he remembered to stick to just the trunks, at this point. 

“So you spend a lot of time on the beach, huh?” he says wryly. 

“C’mon, man, it’s Hawaii,” Superboy says with a sheepish grin. “And I mean, I look good in anything but wet leather is just not a comfortable fit, you know?” 

“I guess it wouldn’t be, no,” Tim says, giving him Civilian Smile #4 again. Superboy’s ears redden a little again, and then he leans back and zips back across the room to shove all his drawers back shut. Tim lays out the pile of swimsuits on the bed, since it’s right there anyway, and then immediately feels embarrassed to be this close to Superboy’s bed. Which is stupid, even if they aren’t platonics. They’ve just met; it’s not like anything’s gonna happen. 

. . . even if Superboy is a notorious flirt and totally shameless and–

Tim is just not gonna pursue that line of thought right now, he decides. Just for his own sanity and all. 

He accidentally knocks some paper off the bed as he’s laying out the suits to get a look at them, and reflexively leans down to pick it up. The room’s a mess, yeah, but it’s Superboy’s mess. It’s still rude to just drop shit wherever. 

The paper isn’t as crumpled as some of the others, and Tim sees a glimpse of color as he picks it up. His inner detective reflexively wonders what it is, and . . .

Tim uncrumples the paper a little, and blinks down at it in surprise. It’s a little kid’s drawing, it looks like. A sunny beach rendered in bright colored pencil and simple, awkward shapes all painstakingly but clumsily colored in and–

Superboy’s suddenly right back next to him snatching the paper from him and immediately hiding it behind his back, looking absolutely mortified. Tim’s confused, for a moment. What’s he embarrassed about? It’s obviously not anything he’d have drawn himself. It’s probably just something a fan or a neighbor’s kid gave him, or . . . 

Tim pauses. Then he recontextualizes just how much of the crumpled-up paper is lying around Superboy’s room and wonders, very briefly, if a bunch of STEM majors with delusions of grandeur would’ve bothered programming their custom-designed “Superman” with anything resembling art skills. 

So . . . maybe that is something Superboy drew himself. If Cadmus didn’t program him with the muscle memory or knowledge of how to draw . . . well, then he probably would draw like a little kid, wouldn’t he.

And given Superboy’s cocky, braggart personality and defensive ego and how all that paper is all crumpled up as if in frustration . . .

“Gift from a fan?” Tim “assumes” with Smiling Civilian Face #4, pretending to be oblivious. 

“Uh–yeah!” Superboy blurts quickly as he jumps on the provided excuse, though he keeps the paper behind his back. “Yeah, just–you know, just some kid gave it to me at a signing, whatever. Uh, bathroom’s through there, if you wanna get changed. Or like, whatever.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says, and resists the itching urge to peek at a few more of those crumpled-up papers. It’s just a lot of paper, especially if Superboy’s upset with the results.

He wonders why the guy draws so much, if he’s that frustrated and embarrassed by it. Maybe it’s a rebellion thing, since it’s something Cadmus didn’t want him to know how to do. Tim would definitely understand that logic, if he were in Superboy’s situation. Or maybe he’s just bothered not to know how and trying to teach himself to make up for the perceived failing. 

Or maybe he just likes it, Tim supposes. That’s an option too. 

Probably a less likely one, though, given that it’s Superboy. Not to be an asshole or anything, just it’s a lot easier picturing the guy assuming he should be able to do something and getting fixated on trying to pull it off than just, like . . . liking to draw. Also, judging by all that balled-up paper, it doesn’t seem like there’s much there for him to “like”, either.

Tim takes the plainest set of trunks with a drawstring waist, which are black and dark blue but still have an S-shield iron-on patch sewn onto their waistband, for whatever reason, and ducks into the bathroom with them. He realizes belatedly that said S-shield is probably going to rest right up against his soulmark, then feels like an idiot for feeling flustered by that idea and just sets his bag against the wall and starts getting undressed. 

He’s definitely wearing one of the spare shirts in his go-bag for this, he decides as he stuffs his clothes into his bag. Just–definitely, yeah. 

The trunks fit once he cinches the drawstring enough, but the S-shield definitely does rest right against his soulmark. Tim has never actually considered the sight of the S-shield to be, like . . . relevant or interesting outside of work, but he’s realizing that he sure does feel differently about it now that he knows his soulmate’s one of the people wearing it. 

Which is a little ironic, really, considering Superboy wears the S-shield as a branding thing or whatever and lets Leech slap it on whatever cheap shitty merch he can think of. Like, he’s probably the least respectful S-wearer there is. 

Tim pulls on a plain clean T-shirt and a short-sleeve button-down to go over it, figuring that’s beach-friendly enough. He should’ve packed sunglasses, probably, but he was a little distracted by his kidnapping plans and didn’t think to. 

Seriously. He didn’t think to bring sunglasses to Hawaii. 

This whole situation definitely has him off his game, yeah. 

Soulmate thing, he guesses.

Tim eyes himself in the bathroom mirror, mentally decides he’s being an idiot to worry about how he looks right now, and then grabs his bag and heads back out into the bedroom. Superboy’s changed into low-waisted S-shield-themed trunks of his own and flip-flops and nothing else, which does in fact give Tim an embarrassingly good and embarrassingly distracting view of their soulmark. It’s not quite distracting enough for him to miss the fact that the amount of crumpled papers strewn around the room has noticeably decreased, though. And there’s definitely more of them sticking out from under the bed and dresser and in the back of the closet than there previously were. 

Which is kinda cute, honestly, but Tim should probably not say that. Like, ever. 

“Thanks for waiting,” he says, smiling Normal Civilian Smile #4 at Superboy as he hitches his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. “And for the loan.” 

Superboy stares blankly at him for half a second, then seems to startle a little and puffs himself up. 

“Uh–sure, yeah!” he says quickly. “No problem, man. Anytime.” 

“‘Anytime’ seems pretty open, as an offer,” Tim jokes, because normal civilians make that kind of joke, and Superboy turns red. 

“Oh, uh–you know what I mean!” he sputters awkwardly, holding his hands up, which seems kind of a lot as a reaction, and then somehow manages to nearly knock over his dresser without even touching it. Well–that'd be the TTK, Tim guesses. 

It wasn't even that much of a joke. Like, lame suburban dad joke territory, that's all. 

“I do, yeah,” he says with a wry smile. Superboy finds a way to turn even redder and shoves his dresser back into a corner. That also seems like kind of a lot as a reaction, but Tim doesn't comment. Just seems, well . . . awkward? Unnecessary? “Are we good to go, then?” 

“Um, yeah, yeah,” Superboy says, clearing his throat and then zipping out into the hall. Tim wonders if he always flies indoors this much. “All good, dude! Let's head out.” 

“Sure,” Tim says, keeping the smile on. Superboy is still red, but floats along down the hall. Tim follows. Okay. They’re almost definitely not platonic, but Superboy clearly isn’t any more sure what to do with that than Tim is, so . . . small favors, he guesses. Like–that they’re at least roughly on the same page there, he means. 

Unless he’s just reading into things because of weird personal biases he didn’t even know he had, and Superboy is completely straight and just kind of socially awkward around civilians, and Tim’s just being socially pressured by the background radiation of living in a society that over-values romantic soulmates in comparison to platonic ones and sometimes disavows platonic soulmates altogether. 

He supposes technically they could be familial, rare as that is. It’s not like he really knows how he’d feel about having a brother. Dick’s the closest thing to one he’s ever had, and that’s just . . . not actually the same thing, obviously, even if sometimes he wishes . . . 

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure having a brother wouldn’t in any way involve this level of embarrassment and unexpected hormones and just general sexuality-questioning over every little thing. Like, that seems very much not like what having a brother would be like. 

So–maybe he isn’t straight, or maybe Superboy’s not actually a boy, or maybe both of those things are true, or maybe he’s just really, really bad at having a soulmate.

Entirely possible, under the circumstances. Tim’s not really all that good at getting close to people. If he got a little confused about how to handle having a soulmate, well . . . that wouldn’t really be a surprise, would it. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to have to figure out how to come out to his dad or Dana or the goddamn Batman. 

One or the other, probably.

. . . statistically speaking, the likelier explanation probably is not wanting to come out to the goddamn Batman. 

“Wanna fly someplace or just chill on the beach out front?” Superboy asks as he floats backwards into the living room. Krypto runs up and jumps on Tim excitedly, his tail wagging so hard his whole little body’s wagging with it. He’s a weird-looking little mutt, but he’s really friendly, apparently. “Krypto, oh my god, get off him.” 

“I don't mind,” Tim says, leaning down to give Krypto a polite little pat on the head. Krypto barks happily and wags his tail so hard he knocks himself over. 

Yeah, weird dog in general, Tim thinks. But again, really friendly. 

“We can go wherever,” he says. “You're the local, you know the best places to get a little time alone to hang out, right?” 

“‘Alone’?” Superboy repeats, his ears reddening again as he somehow manages to trip in mid-air and hits his head on the doorframe. Tim can probably safely write off the idea of “platonic” at this point, but is still a little bit wary of his personal bias interfering. Though . . . “Uh–yeah! Totally! Yeah! We can do that!” 

Yeah, Superboy really isn’t selling the “platonic” idea here either. 

Does Tim have a boyfriend now? Is this how boyfriends happen? 

. . . well, or a girlfriend, maybe. He still hasn’t ruled out the “maybe Superboy’s just trans” option. That seems like a thing that might confuse his sexuality a little, if nothing else. 

This is definitely not anything like any previous girlfriend-getting he’s experienced, though. Like, not even a little bit. He’s not complaining, exactly, because admittedly it’s actually a little bit easier going into a new relationship with a plan and a cover established, even if the plan is admittedly still in flux and the relationship’s “romantic" vs "platonic” status is still unclear. It’s still something he can approach like a case, which is much more straightforward than just floundering around trying to figure out how normal people work. 

And Superboy’s about as far from a “normal person” as it gets, so really, this is a pretty ideal set-up on Tim’s end. 

Hopefully Superboy feels similarly, though he also, like . . . is lacking some pretty important information there, so . . . yeah, that might be an issue. Bruce would definitely not have appreciated Robin telling Superboy he was his soulmate, though, and who knows how Superboy would’ve even taken that. Going in as a civilian is going pretty smoothly, though, so Tim’s pretty sure it was the right choice. 

Hopefully it was, anyway. 

“Cool,” Tim says, keeping up the placid harmless civilian face and thoughts and Totally-Not-A-Vigilante vibes. Superboy does a very bad job of pretending he didn’t just bump into the doorframe and ducks back outside, putting on a cocky grin of his own as he does. It occurs to Tim, briefly, that maybe Superboy has his own catalog of performative expressions. None of his friends really seem to, but Superboy is in the community too, so . . . well, it’d make sense, right? 

Also he does sell his likeness via a sleazy manager’s sleazy business deals, so yeah. It does kind of make sense. 

Huh. That’s . . . a thought, he guesses. 

Not a thought he’d really had yet. 

Just . . . something they might have in common, Tim guesses. 

Though so is being in the community to begin with, obviously. And they're physiologically about the same age and have similar coloring, though Superboy is–well, not actually mixed with East Asian, because Krypton did not have an actual place called “Asia”, but he does have subtle hints of that look, same as Superman. Easy to mistake for just being white, but recognizable if you know what you're looking for. Superboy would be at least half-white given Westfield's DNA, Tim guesses, but . . . 

Yeah, no, he doesn't even know how to begin to figure out the nuances of racial identity on a dead planet he knows next to nothing about, much less any potential experience parallels there might be for a second-generation half-alien immigrant with effectively zero access to their own culture, but maybe he could–

Right, okay, he needs to focus here. There's some fascinating stuff there that he can theorize about and investigate later, once he's kidnapped Superboy properly. The kidnapping is the current priority, though. Like, it is very much the current priority. 

Tim follows Superboy back out onto the porch. Everyone else is still out there, which is fine in regards to Roxy and Dubbilex and not fine in regards to Leech and . . . well, jury's out on Moon, maybe. 

Also the dog. He doesn't really know about the dog. Though said dog does run after him and jump up for attention wagging his scruffy little tail hard enough to wag his whole little body, which is sort of cute. 

Or as cute as a wet dishrag can get, anyway. 

Tim’s trying not to judge Krypto for that, since obviously he didn't ask to be born as the living embodiment of a wet dishrag, and anyway he's a really friendly dog, so judging by appearances seems like a dick move. Even if Tim kind of wants to iron him, to be honest. Steam-clean, maybe. 

At least take him to a decent groomer, if nothing else. 

“Down, you little shit, Jesus!” Kon says, scowling down at Krypto and trying to shoo him away. Krypto growls at him, which seems weird, then goes back to fawning all over Tim. Tim leans down and pats his head, figuring it might calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “He is cute.” 

“Whatever,” Superboy grumbles, folding his arms and inexplicably glowering at his dog. 

“You gonna go swim, or just hang out?” Roxy asks curiously as she comes over to them again. 

“Oh, we’re–” Superboy starts, but Moon cuts him off. 

“Want some company?” Moon inquires, pleasant and suspicious all at once. Superboy looks–conflicted, momentarily, and then awkward. 

“Um, well–Tim’s only in town for today, so . . . next time?” he hedges. Tim resists the urge to eye Moon. Can I just spontaneously insert myself in your first day with your brand-new soulmate? is incredibly rude, as a suggestion. And incredibly fucking disrespectful to boot. Like, what entitled-ass kind of thing is that to ask, exactly? 

How old is she again? Twenty? Twenty-one? He should look that up later. Well–no, she’d graduated college and started her career by the time Superman had died, which was a good eight or nine months ago now, so unless she skipped a grade or two in there, she’s gotta be closer to twenty-four, if not twenty-five or twenty-six. 

That’s . . . a thought, considering there is definitely news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. Like, Tim very definitely saw news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. And she was very definitely kissing him too.

In retrospect, that seems like something someone should’ve, like . . . done something about? Or at least addressed? And is definitely further proof of how fucking useless and slimy Rex Leech is. Sure, let the five-minute-old clone make out with a twentysomething reporter and hang out with her at home; all publicity is good publicity, so it’s fine, right? Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? 

Tim is going to absolutely decimate that bastard’s credit the first chance he gets. Leech probably already has terrible credit, mind, but he’ll make it worse. He’ll find a way. 

. . . though he’ll wait until he’s sure Roxy is eighteen and financially independent, he doesn’t actually know if she is or not. Roxy seems nice, she doesn’t deserve that particular fallout. 

“It’d be nice to get to know each other later, I’m sure,” Tim says before Moon can say anything, smiling Gala Smile #1 at her, which is a targeted psychological attack and not actually very moral to be trotting out this quick, probably. 

He has no regrets, for the record. Absolutely none. 

Moon narrows her eyes suspiciously. Tim blithely strokes Krypto’s ears, Gala Smile #1 flawless and unphased. 

“I’m sure,” she “agrees” frostily. Superboy remains apparently oblivious to the tension and grins brightly at both of them. 

“Cool!” he says. Oh, sweet summer child who has clearly never socialized with sharks, Tim thinks resignedly, petting Krypto again. Has Leech taught him literally nothing about conversational warfare, for fuck’s sake? At least living with your sleaze of a manager should be good for that, dammit! 

Then again, Leech is probably not actually competent enough to teach Superboy anything actually useful, so maybe that’s for the best. 

If nothing else, Superman could’ve taught him a bit of “bless your heart”, but apparently that’s not a thing either. 

Tim has a brief moment of dread that maybe underneath his personal list of performative expressions, Superboy might just be a straightforward and honest person, which is a concerning thought. He doesn’t even know how to talk to a straightforward and honest person at this point, after this long as Batman’s emotional support sidekick. How do you form a lasting relationship with someone who isn’t habitually using at least three layers of double-talk and constantly locked in on all your microexpressions, anyway? 

That’s going to be a weird experience, yeah. 

“Ready to go?” Superboy asks Tim, grinning brighter at him. Tim feels momentarily overwhelmed and just sort of . . . has to collect himself about that, a little. 

Or a lot.

“Lead the way,” he says, smiling at him. He’s flustered enough to forget to use an appropriately-planned smile, which is embarrassing, but Superboy just grins even brighter–which should not be physically possible, but apparently is–and reaches out to scoop him up into his arms and into the air again as Krypto lets out an offended bark. It’s totally overkill and not even slightly necessary. 

Tim isn’t complaining, just–well–

It’s really flustering. 

“Air Superboy up, up, and away!” Superboy says cheerfully as they float up over the others’ heads. His face is way too close to Tim’s face. 

Tim is gonna need a bit longer to collect himself this time, he’s pretty sure. 

“Do I get an in-flight meal?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Superboy laughs, which is even worse than his grin, and then takes off across the beachfront with him. It’s another bridal carry, which is quietly mortifying but could be worse, probably. Maybe. 

Somehow. 

Superboy flies them straight across the beach and then straight out over the water, skimming them along just above the waves. Tim makes a briefly startled noise, reflexively tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. 

“This isn’t waterproof,” he says just as reflexively, and Superboy laughs again. 

“I’m not gonna drop you, dude,” he says. Tim actually more assumed Superboy was intending to either dive-bomb them both into the water or just dump him in on purpose, because that seems like Superboy’s sense of humor, but maybe that was an unfair assumption. 

He really is not prepared for how it feels to be held in close against Superboy’s bare chest and arms like this, even if he’s still wearing a shirt himself. The idea of possibly doing that while they’re both wet seems a lot worse. 

Yeah. Definitely worse. 

Tim should’ve worn long sleeves. And maybe a wetsuit. And maybe a few layers on top of that. 

Jesus. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he says, barely resisting the urge to loop his arms around Superboy’s neck as the other hangs a right and swoops them back around towards shore. Flying over the water like this is a pretty cool experience, admittedly, now that he’s not worried about Superboy dumping him in the water. 

Well. Less worried, anyway. 

Camera next time, Tim promises himself, glancing back over Superboy’s shoulder towards the shining horizon. The sun reflects off the waves bright and beautiful, and the sky is a smooth and perfect blue dotted with sparse but billowing clouds, and everything smells like salt and sea and leather, which is probably Superboy, even without the jacket on anymore. 

Definitely camera next time.

“Definitely holding you to that, actually,” he says, and Superboy laughs again and brings them down in the surf just past the tideline with a splash. Neither the splash or the water goes high enough to soak Tim's bag, so he figures it could've been worse. 

Assuming Superboy isn't planning to toss him or anything before he can put his bag down somewhere safe, anyway. 

They both settle down into the surf and onto their feet, and Tim becomes very aware of how close together they’re standing and also how very, very shirtless Superboy is, and in fact the only thing between their soulmarks is the very thin layer of cotton of Tim’s own shirt, and if he leaned in just a little bit . . . 

Jesus, Tim thinks faintly, and forces himself to take a step back before he can make it weird. 

He smiles Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 just to make sure he doesn’t look like a creep or anything, and Superboy grins excitedly at him. Tim allows himself all of two seconds to be overwhelmed by that gorgeous expression and their physical closeness and the reflection of the light in Superboy’s eyes, as bright and perfectly blue as both the sky and water, and then reasserts standard operating procedures and keeps Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 locked in place on his face. 

“The water’s really warm,” he observes, glancing down at it. “Is that normal?” 

It’s probably not an impending supervillain thing, he tells himself. 

Maybe global warming or something, though.

“I mean, feels normal to me?” Superboy says with a shrug. Tim considers mentioning the average ocean temperature, comparatively speaking, or at least the average temperature of the water off the docks in Gotham. Admittedly, Gotham waters barely count as “water”, legally speaking, but that’s not the point. 

“It’s pretty out here,” he says instead, and Superboy grins at him and leans in. He’s pretty sure it’s more an instinctive thing than a deliberate one, just from the way Superboy does it, but that doesn’t exactly make it less flattering. 

Or flustering. 

“I mean, it’s Hawaii, man!” Superboy says, grinning wider before kicking at the surf. “‘Course it’s gonna be pretty!” 

Actually you specifically are possibly the prettiest damn thing that I have ever seen, Tim thinks, but isn’t stupid enough to actually let out of his mouth. Superboy, unfortunately, continues to be all warm and grinning and lit up by the island sun. Tim did not come prepared enough for this. 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’d be the guy who came to Hawaii and got a monsoon,” Tim says wryly, and Superboy laughs brightly. 

Tim really did not come prepared enough for this. Like, not at all. Not even slightly. 

“Guess you’d just have to come back, then,” Superboy says, grinning wider again and kicking at the surf again as he floats back up out of it. It’s–weird, a little, looking up at him like this. 

Well, not weird, just . . . yeah. 

Something like that. 

“Guess so,” Tim agrees, feeling embarrassingly flustered. Superboy’s friends can probably still see them from the porch, distant though it is, but part of him is still just considering very weird and dumb ideas like maybe tugging Superboy back down to earth and into the surf and just . . . confirming the little sexuality crisis he’s been having since breaking into the other’s file and seeing their soulmark in it, maybe. 

Just, you know, ruling things out. Making deductions. Going through the process of elimination. 

Kissing him, maybe. 

He could very, very much kiss Superboy right now. They’re on a gorgeous beach in the surf and under the sun and Superboy is floating in front of him and grinning as happy and excited as could be and Tim’s stomach is fluttering in a stupid and also-embarrassing way, and . . . 

He could kiss him. That’s all. 

“I mean, it’s a nice place to visit, right?” Superboy says casually, linking his hands together behind his back. 

“The tourism industry seems to think so,” Tim says wryly, and wonders what the “normal civilian who didn’t come here specifically looking for his soulmate to kidnap/salvage him to begin with” thing to say is here. He has absolutely no idea, because he actually has absolutely no idea how normal civilians react to superheroes. Robin is . . . not exactly an urban myth, necessarily, but definitely not a publicly-recognized superhero. He’s a vigilante that’s just barely allowed to operate outside the law, and not one with any kind of publicity or celebrity involved. 

eSuperboy, on the other hand, is not only a superhero, but a professional superhero. He’s selling his likeness and doing events and has signed a stupid predatory contract with a sleaze of a manager that technically shouldn’t even be legal, given Superboy isn’t even considered a legal person by the government. Apparently no one has ever realized that, though, or at least no one’s ever let Superboy realize that. 

Tim really doesn’t love that that’s a thing, to put it mildly. 

Actually, he just fucking hates it. 

Superboy laughs, and looks very, very pretty doing it. Tim continues to wonder what a normal civilian would do here, and for lack of a better idea falls back on small talk. 

God, his best plan right now is small talk. What is his life, even? 

No wonder he’s gonna have to take six months to kidnap Superboy, ugh.

“So, uh–this seems like a weird question to be bringing up this late in the conversation, but what’s your name?” he asks, because it’s occurred to him that he actually has no idea what Superboy goes by when he’s off-duty. He knows he doesn’t have a secret identity, of course, but there’s no way his friends just call him “Superboy”. Well–maybe his slimy asshole manager does, but otherwise. “I mean, if that’s okay to ask. Marks or not, I understand if you don’t feel like we’re there yet, given the whole superhero thing and all.” 

Robin knows Superboy doesn’t have a secret identity, after all, but Tim Drake is a normal civilian and shouldn’t act like he knows too much about any superhero in general, so–

“Naw, it’s fine, I don’t even have one,” Superboy says, for some reason just beaming at him, which is . . . weird, Tim thinks, but nowhere near as weird as that answer is. 

“You don’t . . . have one?” he repeats slowly, and Superboy shrugs easily. “Like–not at all?” 

“Yeah, everybody pretty much just calls me 'Kid' or 'SB', when it's not Superboy,” Superboy says. “Oh, and Knockout calls me 'Pup' when she's around but like, that's really just a 'her' thing. So, you know, you can call me whatever.” 

Tim stares blankly at him for a long, long moment, speed-runs all five stages of grief, and also discovers a couple of new and unexpected ones. 

Alright. Well, he officially regrets literally nothing about this impending kidnapping. 

“Oh, okay,” he says. “Um–sorry, I guess I just assumed you’d have a more . . . civilian-ish name too, I guess?” 

“I’m a clone, man,” Superboy says, looking amused. “The only other name I’ve got is ‘Experiment Thirteen’, which is definitely not something I answer to."

Tim discovers a few more stages of grief that hit with all the subtlety of a spiked baseball bat and makes himself nod as much like a normal person as he can. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d go for that one if I were you either,” he says. “Kind of a mouthful, if nothing else.” 

Superboy laughs, then grins at him again. He is actually doing so, so much of that, Tim’s realizing. Tim was really not prepared for how much of that he’s been doing, in fact. He just did not come prepared for any of that at all. He’s got some nebulous kidnapping plans, but everything else here–from the supervillain attack to Superboy’s ripped suit and exposed soulmark–has been a crime of opportunity. 

He probably should’ve done more research. Actually, he definitely should’ve done more research. He kind of just panicked and bought a ticket and flew right over, and just because Dick didn’t stop him doesn’t mean it was a good idea. He just–he should’ve done more research. Planned more. Not shown up without something concrete. 

Admittedly Superboy doesn’t hate him yet or anything, but this was just . . . yeah, this was not his brightest idea at all. Not even slightly. 

Why didn’t he do more research? 

“You really can just call me whatever you wanna, don’t worry about it,” Superboy says with an easy shrug as he settles back down into the surf, which, unfortunately, puts him back into kissing range and is therefore incredibly distracting. 

Dammit, Tim thinks, trying to beat his stupid teenage hormones into order. 

“Whatever I wanna?” he repeats. 

“Except for Experiment Thirteen,” Superboy says with another grin. Tim politely pretends not to notice the slight tightening of the corners of his mouth as he says the word “experiment”. 

“Uh, okay,” he says, clearing his throat. He guesses Superboy doesn’t really care what his name is, then, but being told to just call him whatever he wants to is . . . well, a weird feeling, maybe. “What do you do when you just want to be a civilian for a while, though?” 

“I don’t,” Superboy says. 

“. . . don’t . . . what?” Tim asks slowly, not sure if he should be dreading the answer or not, but–

“Be a civilian,” Superboy says. 

Tim’s running out of new stages of grief, he’s pretty sure. 

“Ah,” he says. 

Superboy–for a second, Tim thinks he looks self-conscious, but then he’s grinning again before he can be sure, and . . . 

“Why would I?” Superboy says, puffing up proudly. “I’m Superboy, man! Nothing else I’d rather be.” 

Given how limited Superboy’s options for anything “else” he could be probably are . . . well, Tim’s not sure what to think of that statement. 

He doesn’t think it’s anything good, though. 

Yeah, no, he thinks as he looks at Superboy’s too-bright grin and thinks about how he just said "nothing" and not "no one". Definitely not anything good. 

Who wouldn’t pick being “Superboy” over being “Experiment Thirteen”, after all? 

And what else would Superboy even know how to pick, if he thought those were his only options?

[haobubbles]

get to know you

pairing: nonidol!gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of food, slight swearing, lmk if i forgot anything!!!

word count: 1k

roxy's sidenote: um this made me feel so alone hahaha

an evening in a cafe is a life pleasure that sometimes, just sometimes, you were able to enjoy. about a 5-minute walk from your apartment, you were now seated in an armchair of your favourite cafeteria, delune.

if you looked around, you could clearly see the vintage decoration that gave an old, rustic but comfy environment to the area. the old plants, the little paintings..every single detail could made you think it had been decorated by a professional interior designer; however, it was a lady around her sixties that took all the credit for it.

you were just explaining to ricky, your best friend, about your life. while trying to catch up with someone whom you saw after three months (his fault for not organising himself, you say) a ding caught your attention.

it had been long enough to spend time with an ordinary friend but with the chinese boy, you felt like a week with him full of gossip wasn't enough. if there was nothing to tell about his life, normally being the other way around, he would always spill the most recent gossip or information that he had been able to gather.

drifting your attention to your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, gunwook, that instantly brought a smile to your face.

'r u home? i miss and wanna talk to uu'

"what did that boy of yours say now?" ricky asked, slightly amused at the youngest's talent to catch your attention that fast. even before you realised what you were doing, you shot a sheepish smile at the boy sitting in front of you and started gathering your things (your phone for the most part)

"i will make it up to you, ricky, I promise, but we've been here for almost 4 hours. i also have my girlfriend duties, you know?"

a few laughs and some pinky promises later, you were walking through the entrance door of your apartment, immediately catching sight of the head of your boyfriend resting on the soft, grey sofa.

"did i make you wait for too long?" was the first thought you voiced out while taking off your shoes.

"where was the warning of your arriving y/n??!! fuck, you will kill me someday" you laughed at his surprised and slightly frightened state.

while the citizens were too busy with their own lives, they weren't able to appreciate the sunset, not even you. while keeping a conversation with gunwook about your day and telling him whatever gossip ricky said to you that came to your mind, you lost track of time and didn't realise until you were sat down at the table, eating a homemade pizza with your partner.

you had realised that while talking, gunwook had been eager to let you talk all the time and he took advantage of the situation to stare at you, but as the simple thought made you giggle internally, you let it slide.

however, when you asked him about his day while having dinner and you received no response, you started to slightly panic.

"wook, did you hear what i said?" still no response.

even if that wasn't usual in your casual meet ups or dates, you decided to take it more on the safe and not hysteric side and continued eating, hoping that he'd get out of his trance soon.

while keeping a close eye on him, a few minutes later, you saw him shoot an energetic smile at you, which left you quite baffled.

"i called your name four times and you didn't answer. not even once. what's up with you?"

"you." gunwook answered rather quickly, which left you more puzzled.

"what?" you dared to ask, too caught up in your own turmoil of thoughts and emotions to muster up something better.

"i was just admiring you. you know the song completely, of jaehyun?" he carried on when you nodded to his words "well, i've been listening to this song on repeat for a few days, and i realised i know nothing about you"

"what do you mean you don't know anything? i've told you things about me and we've been dating for almost two years now.." you trailed off, not knowing what his point was

"yeah i do, but not everything. i realised i will never be able to get to know you completely. you'll be constantly changing and a lot of you will be lost.that thought scared me and made me a little bit sad, but i decided to get to know you deeply, get to know your soul."

"that's why you wanted me to talk this whole time?" you asked, looking deeply into those chocolate-like eyes that you loved.

"kind of. i also enjoy hearing your voice, it's like a serenade for me" he admitted while scratching the nape of his neck, quite embarrassed "but yeah i spent the whole time analysing what you said to get as much info as possible! by the way, your pyjamas are very cute" he pointed out while looking at where your bedroom is

"you looked through my-" "NO i could never! i was trying to see if you had any picture of us that i didn't have and i saw your pyjamas laying on your pink mattress" he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice

"don't you dare to say anything about my mattress" you tried to sound stern but failed miserably when you remembered what he had confessed not even 5 minutes ago "why are you doing all of this either way?"

before you had finished the sentence, he had gotten up from his seat and walked over to where yours was, engulfing you in a huge hug.

with a small voice he stated "because i love you? just listen to the song i told you, i think you'll understand more than what my words can say" gunwook had a giant smile on his face, which you could only guess by the giggles you could hear behind your back.

[lovelytsunoda]

sunday in heaven // jake "hangman" seresin

warm afternoons spent under blankets with hot drinks and paperbacks

jake’s favourite afternoons were spent with his fiancée and his dog, with hot drinks and a good book. nice and calm, different from his every day. but tell anybody that and he’d have to kill you.

pairing: jake seresin x fiancee reader

author's note: i bet this man is the biggest jack reacher fan on the goddamn planet. he will lie to your face about his book collection and then go home and stay up until 5am because 'babe, reacher's about to beat up like eight dudes and then fling one of them out a helicopter.'

"babe, the package is here!"

jake's shout echoes around the small house as he parades into the living room, shaking the amazon box in his hands. their dachshund, roxy, follows behind him, entranced by the cardboard box.

y/n stopped what she was doing, drying her hands off on the dish towel before turning to her fiancee with a giddy look on her face.

"what are you waiting for? let's open it!"

“hold your horses, sweet thing.” jake crooned, placing the box on the kitchen island before sitting down on the barstool, hefting roxy into his arms.

that was the first major misconception about lieutenant jake seresin. everyone who met him assumed he was a german shepherd kind of man, a golden retriever at the least. a large, energetic guard dog. but roxy was the most spoilt little dog in all of fightertown. he loved that dog more than he loved his truck, which was saying something.

roxy sat in his lap, standing up on her hind legs as she licked at his face, his fingers scratching behind her ears. y/n reached over the counter to run her hand over the dog's back a few times, before she pressed a kiss to jake’s cheek, and slipped a knife out of the block to slice the box open.

the small 'j' shaped pendant around her neck glittered as she leaned over to pull the paperbacks out of their box, a wide, giddy smile crossing her face as she flipped through the pages of the wife stalker by liv constantine, inhaling the smell of a brand new, unread book.

across the island, jake smiled at her, a lovesick expression in his eyes. they say that when you know, you know, and the first time she took him to a book store, he knew. he knew when she fangirled over emily henry and her written rom coms, and he knew when she admitted her love for the domestic thriller.

"look at this bad boy." he grinned, reaching for the smaller stack of books that he had picked out for himself, the silhouette of alan ritchson's iteration of jack reacher looking up at him from the cover of bad luck and trouble.

"this is great timing, actually. i finished fool me once while you were working late last night, and i've been waiting for something new to read." y/n giggled, dishes forgotten in the sink as she thumbed through the stack that she had ordered.

the worst thing she could have done for her bank acocunt was date someone who supported her book buying addiction, but some days, when there was a new military or action thriller on the shelves, jake was even worse than she was.

in fact, she seemed to remember waiting in line at barnes and noble for three hours just so that jake could get his hands on a copy of heat 2, based on the film starring, you guessed it, al pacino.

oh, yeah. that was the second misconception about jake seresin: he really liked to read. and he didn't just say that to placate his fiancée. he really did love a good book. he even went as far as to listen to audiobooks when he was at the gym, and had been known to stay up late when he was in the thick of a lee child novel, even if he did have to go to work in the morning.

jake had proposed with a collection of miss marple books and a pink string that had the ring on it. and for his birthday, she had bought him the latest jason bourne novel.

it seemed that the written word had quickly become their love language, a hobby she never thought she would ever share with her significant other. he was also known to read the occasional romance novel, and wasn't shy about making that known when they shared time together in the bedroom.

but if you told anybody on the dagger squad that he had even read one single novel, jake would skin you alive. he was almost mortified when mickey found jake's well-worn copy of the godfather in his locker, but this was before mickey had admitted that he had also read the cult classic.

and when rooster caught jake listening to the audiobook version of one of the original james bond books? they swore never to speak of it again.

when he first confessed this to y/n, she had laughed. not at him, per say, but because he shared the same book taste as her grandfather.

"i've got like, a hundred pages left in the night agent, but i might have to postpone that to a later date now that reacher has arrived." jake hummed, scratching roxy behind the ears, the small dog trying to sniff the three paperbacks that he held.

"you know what that means?"

"fuck yeah i do."

and that's how they found themselves curling up next to each other on the sectional sofa, two warm mugs on the coffee table (black coffee for jake, and a caramel/whipped cream hot chocolate for y/n.) and a plush blanket from coscto.

she snuggled into jake's side, absorbing his body heat as she fluffed the blanket around them. he kissed her on the forehead as she rested her head against his shoulder, glasses perched on the edge of her nose.

true to his word, jake abandoned the night agent on the side table, cracking open his new jack reacher.

this was something that irked y/n.

jake could read three or four books at a time, his attention span and mood reading tendencies sometimes meaning that it took him six months to get through a book that should have taken four days. there was no end to the dog eared paperbacks that jake would leave lying around.

"jake?" she hummed, halfway down the first page of her book as roxy jumped onto the couch, nestling in between their bodies.

"yeah, pretty girl?" he chuckled, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. the most treasured, comforting scent had had ever encountered.

"i love you."

"more than your book boyfriends?" he teased, poking her in the side.

she laughed heartily, kepping a tight grip on her paperback as she pressed a delicate kiss to his lips, trying to keep things chaste. if she even hinted at all that she wanted jake in her bed, neither of them would be starting a book that afternoon. "of course, jackass."

"i love you too, pretty girl. i can't wait to waste the rest of my sundays reading in bed with you."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @twinkodium @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober Day 14: Knock

Words 1,700+ Summary: You hang out with some friends, and try your best to make Moon's circuits fry, apparently

Somehow, you’d managed to drag your ass out of bed after a fruitless attempt at sleeping. It was 12:00 am, the moon was out, and you were exhausted. The constant switch between night and day shifts was starting to get to you. Since the layoffs, management had assigned you way more night hours, and you didn’t want to give them an excuse to get rid of you too.

The drive to work had you so zoned out it was a miracle you hadn’t hit anyone. Your walk inside is a daze, and you only register what you’re doing when you’ve been twisting the handle to the security office for so long you realise you haven’t unlocked it.

You grumble as you dump your stuff, pulling the staff lanyard from the hook on the back of the door over your neck and checking the alarm system. Thankfully, your list of tasks was blissfully short for tonight. Clean out Chica’s room, repaint Roxy’s nails (her PAs were all out with some unspecified illness, apparently) and check up on the Staffbots in the lobby and atrium. Since the outage a few weeks ago, there’d been an increase in reports of glitches, and Fazbear wanted to minimise the bad press.

You nod to Vanessa as you leave the office, having seen her enter at the front doors. She smiles back at you, waving enthusiastically. If your memory served you right, she’d been hired about a month ago, and only worked security shifts. She seemed nice enough, but you never had the chance to exchange more than a few words with her.

“Are you on the atrium today?” you call.

“No, I’m in the tunnels tonight. Something about a glitch in the cameras? I don’t know.” She shrugs, fiddling with her badge as she tries to pin it on her shirt. “Moon’s doing the rest.”

“Have fun in the tunnels, then,” you say, and she makes a face. “I’ll be by the main stage if you need me.”

“Thanks,” she says warmly, swearing when she stabs herself. She waves you off when you offer to help, and you oblige, taking the side doors to start the night off with Chica.

When you open the doors to Rockstar Row, you know he’s already waiting. You don’t bother looking up. “Hey, Moon Man. Did you miss me?”

Moon drops down inches away from your face, hanging from the roof upside down like spiderman. The bell on the end of his hat jingles. You jump, even though you expected his arrival.

“Not at all,” he chuckles, taking delight in your momentary terror. You playfully bat at his head, crossing your arms.

“Quit it,” you say in what you hope is a stern voice, but is definitely not. His faceplate does the usual spin, smile remaining in place. “You like scaring me too much. It’s like you feed on terror.”

Moon flips in the air until he’s right side up. He brings his hands up and wiggles his fingers, making his red optics shine brighter for added effect. His voice becomes gravelly, like nails on a chalkboard. “Of course I do, my dear. I’m the boogeyma-”

“Hi!”

Moon freezes, clearly having been caught unaware despite his usual constant surveillance of his surroundings. He turns to the side slowly, looking very much like he wants to leave right now. You’d laugh if you didn’t feel bad.

Chica is standing with Roxy, the chicken waving energetically just in case you’d missed her greeting while the wolf rolls her eyes, inspecting her nails with annoyance. Clearly she wasn’t coping very well with the sudden lack of PAs.

“I thought you two would be hanging out! Roxy’s been waiting for ages and she’s getting desperate.” Chica looks to Roxy expectantly, and the latter shoves her hand in front of your face for you to inspect.

“They’re chipped from the keytar,” she huffs. “I need them repainted.”

“We got the paint and stuff all ready!” Chica chirps. “It’s in my room. I’ll clean while you do her nails.” she grabs your hand excitedly. “It’ll be like a slumber party.”

Moon is hanging awkwardly in the air, playing with the ribbons around his wrists. In some aspects, he really was like Sun. Chica gasps and looks at him.

“Oh, and you can come too, Moon! I wouldn’t want to separate you two.” She gives you a sly grin as she says this, and you shoot her a glare back. Moon is too anxious to be aware of what she’s saying, and Roxy just doesn’t care, but still.

“I…”

You give him an understanding look. “It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do.”

Chica looks much too upset for her offer to not be steeped in an ulterior motive. “No! We haven’t hung out in ages! Come on.”

“I have patrols to do,” Moon says, clearly grateful for your out. Roxy rolls her eyes.

“If the cheese head doesn’t want to see us, let him miss out.” Moon’s eye flickers black for a moment, and his grin strains. You knew him and Roxy were on… rocky terms, after watching him dump a bucket of water from Gator Golf on her head when she went searching for her bracelets one night, and when she’d flipped the light switch after trapping him in Kids Cove (it had taken you about an hour to get Sun to calm down). “Can we just get on with fixing my nails?”

You give Moon a smile. “I gotta check on the Staffbots after. See you then?”

He nods, before shooting up into the rafters and out of sight. Chica seems very disappointed, but she drags you back to her room to get started with your tasks anyway.

You pull a stool over to the vanity and begin, doing your very best not to get the paint anywhere but where it was supposed to be. It was hard, considering Roxy liked to talk with her hands when she got mad, and Chica had brought up Monty hiding her hairbrush, but you were nothing if not patient. Also, you were terrified of her, so that helped you stay steady.

Chica continues her gossip as she cleans the room, gathering trash into garbage bags and leaving them by the door. Thankfully, the trash was inedible, so she wouldn’t be sticking her beak into it tonight. “Ooh, did you guys hear that Adam got caught cheating on his wife?” Adam was a supervisor for the Staffbot production. Roxy gasps dutifully. You scrunch your eyebrows together as you maneuver the paintbrush over to a particularly tricky spot. “Yeah. She came here to meet him last night! But his wife was visiting with the kids.”

“Oh, that’s vile,” Roxy laughs.

“I know! Anyway, that’s why they closed off the car park. There’s stuff everywhere. She went off, somehow she got to the paint buckets!”

Speaking of paint, you were finally done with the last coat on Roxy’s nails. You slide her hand under the dryer and stretch. “Adam’s a bastard anyway, it’s not like this was the first time.”

“Ooh, do tell,” Chica squawks, pausing from tying up another bag (this one filled with broken crayons and old autographs they can’t legally give out anymore) to look up in excitement.

Unfortunately for her, a knock at the door cuts you off. Then another, and another increasingly annoyed one over the fact the door is not sliding open, and then a thud.

It opens automatically, as it does when there’s security cleared movement on the other side, and the three of you are greeted with Moon’s upside down face. Ah, no wonder the door didn’t register him. It scanned the floor for any movement. “You’re late,” he says shortly.

You check your Fazwatch. He was right - it was 1:30, and your shift ended at 4. You get up apologetically. “Sorry girls, I gotta run. Duty calls.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thanks for my nails,” Roxy says boredly, inspecting her new coats. Chica sighs dramatically, leaning on her trash bag.

“You’ll have to tell us everything another time,” she says seriously. You nod. Of course you would. She eyes Moon and her eyes glint cheekily. “Have you come to take them away?”

“Come to get them to work,” Moon responds curtly. “No overtime allowed.”

You walk outside, waving to the girls. “Thanks for the help, Chicken.”

“Have fun with your prince!” Chica calls, and you move out of the way of the sensor so the door slams shut on her. You turn to Moon.

“We can start-”

He cuts you off. “You look terrible.”

Wow. “Okay, rude.”

“You haven’t slept in days.” His eyes are pixelated, meaning he’s currently scanning your condition. You do your best to act like a person who gets a healthy amount of sleep, but it’s hard, because now that he’s mentioned it, your eyes are drooping. “Tell me that my sensors are wrong, and you have slept more than five hours in the past two days.”

“You’re wrong?” you try, but he’s gripping your shoulders and marching you over to the lobby doors, still suspended in the air. “Hey, I have a job to do.”

“I’ll handle it,” he says through metaphorically gritted teeth.

“Moon-”

“You are going to take a nap.”

Okay, well, you couldn’t exactly argue with that. Mainly because if you did, he’d probably tear your arms off. And a nap really did sound nice about now.

Moon guides you to the red daycare doors, then stands in front of you sternly, hunched over so that you can’t escape his gaze. “You are going to go inside. You are going to get the blankets and pillows from the cupboard. When I return, you will be asleep.”

“No overtime,” you remind him halfheartedly.

“I will clock you out. Go.” He points to the doors.

“You’re bossy,” you try, but now you’re really pushing it because you think if you say anything more he’s actually going to kill you. “Okay, okay. I’m going to bed.”

Your phone dangles in front of your face. That son of a bitch. You reach for it, but it’s tucked away into his chest cavity before you can blink. “You will get this back when you have slept.”

There’s no use arguing. You give a mocking salute. Moon opens the doors, and you walk through, not looking back until they clang shut behind you.

You yawn instantly. He was right - you needed some sleep.

[mack-writersblock]

Secrets In The Flower Garden || L. Alvez

Summary: Luke and fem!reader deny the obvious attraction between them. It isn't until a team, and Derek who was invited, get together at David Rossi's that something happens between them in the flower garden.

cw: no use of Y/N, slight off canon team (Aaron is still the BAU chief), swearing, fluff, suggestive themes, Peneople being your bestie (like she would be), pet names (you platonically call Penelope babes, Luke calls you princesa, you call Luke lover boy, Penelope platonically calls you lovely), bad spanish (google translate), mentions and slight description of a car accident, background character death, first kiss, suggestive and straight foreword themes, barely edited.

Word count: 1959

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

Luke was laughing at Penelope, she had just given him shit about being the newbie again. He looked around, trying to find you, and when he wasn't able to, he sighed.

"I'm going to head out and get Roxy from her sitter," Luke announced to Penelope, Spencer, and Derek, grabbing his jacket and heading to the door. He waved goodbye to Rossi as he passed the older man, and opened the door to see you standing there.

"Are you stalking me Alvez?" You teased as you lowered your hand, clearly about to knock.

"Nope, it's just the universe telling us we'd be perfect together," Luke shot back with a smile of his own.

"Oh, you believe in fate now?" You challenged him, remembering when he called you out for believing in fate the last time you won a game.

"Not fate, the universe."

"Well, is the universe telling you to let me inside yet?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He quickly moved to the side to let you in, watching as you slipped your shoes off and placed them next to Penelope's. You walked through the entryway and made it to the main room, Luke a few steps behind you.

"You're here, you just missed-" Spencer cut himself off at the sight of Luke behind you.

"Missed what?" You questioned, slightly tilting your head to the side.

"My amazing story about my book club!" Penelope saved Spencer from having to lie, knowing you'd be able to see through it but would never question Penelope about one of her stories. Specifically not when she was overly excited to tell you about it.

₊˚‧ ︵‿ ꒰ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ꒱ ‿︵ ‧˚₊

"We should play some games now that everyone's here!" Penelope announced, her voice extra loud to be heard over the mindless drone of the music in the background.

"What games, babes?" You ask her, moving away from Luke's side to walk over to her, hating having to scream over the music.

"I have a list of games we can play without anything and a list of games we can play but we would need things," Penelope pulled two sheets of paper out of her skirt's pockets.

"Holy shit, you have pockets in that?" JJ rushed over drawing the attention of those around her.

"I do and we have games to play," Penelope's infliction made you raise an eyebrow at her.

"What games do you have on those lists, mama?" Derek questioned Penelope before you could ask about what she meant with her tone.

"Team games! We need to split into pairs," she announced before grabbing Derek by the arm. "Dibs on this one," Penelope claimed Derek as her partner and Luke grabbed your arm.

"The universe is telling me we would be perfect partners for this," Luke told you, a joking lit to his voice.

"Careful there, Alvez or I might start believing you're only making up this universe thing."

₊˚‧ ︵‿ ꒰ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ꒱ ‿︵ ‧˚₊

The team and you had been playing games for the last hour and a half, each time you were paired with Luke. Whether it was because you two wanted to be or because no one else wanted to change partners.

"Let's take a break, I need to use the bathroom," Penelope stood up and left the group. Everyone else went to move and stretch, you stood up and went out the back door. Wanting to cool off after having to sit on Luke's lap for the last few games, your seat being confiscated as an extension of the coffee table for their last card game.

You made it off Rossi's back porch and into the flower garden and sat on one of the benches he had.

"You ok?" Luke's voice startled you, causing him to chuckle.

"Yeah, just needed some fresh air," you told him, scooting over to let him sit with you. You two sat in silence for a moment before you spoke again. "Rossi has nice flowers."

"Do you have a favorite flower?"

"Lilies, why? Did you universe tell you to ask?"

"Possibly."

"Well, Mr. I listen to the universe, are you going to ask why?" You questioned, wanting to talk about it.

"Why?" Luke indulged you.

"My best friend from high school was named Lilian but everyone called her Lily," you told him, your voice slightly reminiscent.

"Was?" Luke looked over at you but you were too busy playing with a loose thread of your shirt to notice.

"We were 19," you started, second-guessing telling him about it but decided to keep going. "We were celebrating her birthday with all our friends, 5 of us all together, driving down a dark back road when Miles, Lily's boyfriend, took his eyes off the road for only a second," you paused, pulling the thread off your shirt to wring it around your fingers. "The other car came out of nowhere, he didn't even have his headlights on. He was on the wrong side of the road and James tried to swerve into the other lane to avoid it but-" you cut yourself off with a shuddering breath. "Lily was in the passenger seat when she got hit head-on. I've always liked Lilies, but sunflowers were my favorite until she died," you looked up and blinked back the tears burning your eyes. After a beat of silence, you looked over at Luke and saw him just looking at you. "God, I'm sorry, what a way to bring down the mood, huh?"

"I'm sorry that happened, truly, I am," Luke told you and you gently shook your head.

"No, I could have just not told you about it," you reasoned.

"I asked, I wanted to know," Luke grabbed your hand and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the action.

"Think Rossi will care if I take one of his flowers?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Probably," Luke answered and you laughed.

"Come on! The man's rich, he probably pays someone to take care of it for him anyway!" You laughed, bracing yourself on Luke's shoulder as you both laughed. You two calmed down and when you did, you realized how close you two were. You froze, staying there and running your eyes over his face, gauging his reaction.

"Kiss her!" You two heard Penelope yell from the porch causing them both to look over at her. "No, don't look at me, kiss each other!" She shouted and you looked back at Luke, who was already looking at you.

"Well, you heard the universe, kiss me," you told him, a smile on your face. Luke mirrored yours with his own before gently sweeping his lips over yours. You took charge and pressed your lips to his with more assured force. The hoots and hollers from your team made you two pull away from each other, you let your head fall onto his shoulder while you laughed. "If I had known all it took was getting you out to Rossi's flower garden for you to kiss me, I would have done it a long time ago," You mused, lifting your head to look Luke in the eyes again.

"It wasn't me and the universe who made you kiss me?" Luke joked.

"Hey, no, you kissed me first. Therefore, I was right," you shot back, amusement written on your face as everyone else walked up.

"No, you kissed me first," Luke argued playfully.

"Fine, Penelope gets to take all the credit," you finalized as the aforementioned woman beamed.

"Hear that, newbie! I get the credit," Penelope laughed and you shook your head in amusement.

"I'll regret this, won't I?" You looked at the blonde who nodded at you.

₊˚‧ ︵‿ ꒰ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ꒱ ‿︵ ‧˚₊

"Good you two are here," Aaron walked out of his office as you and Luke walked into the bullpen.

"Good morning, sir!" You called up before seeing the two stacks of paper he had in his hands. "No, is that what I think that is?"

"The paperwork you and Alvez need to fill out for your relationship," Aaron disclosed and you spun around to look at Luke.

"I don't know if you're worth all that paperwork, lover boy," you joked, watching him put his hand to his heart with a smile.

"You're breaking my heart, princesa," Luke joked and you spun back around.

"I'll take the paperwork, sir," you told him, reaching up to grab it from him. You grabbed Luke's as well before turning back to face him and sat down on the top of his desk. "Fill it out because you might not be scared to file paperwork late, but I am and I'm not letting some stuffy higher-up tell me that we can't date because we didn't file the proper paperwork," you handed the paperwork to Luke.

"Whatever you want, princesa," Luke smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

"No PDA with the newbie," Penelope joked, walking over and holding a folder.

"Tell me that's not more paperwork, babes," you groaned, looking back at Luke.

"Nope, just the list of predictions I made for this year. As well as the list of bets on it," Penelope explained and you got excited.

"I forgot about that! Why's it out?"

"Luke and you both owe me $20," Penelope grabbed her list of bets and on number 6, you both bet $20 that you wouldn't end up together.

"You bet against us?" You looked over at Luke, pulling the bill out of your purse.

"You did too," Luke countered, pulling his own money out.

"Yeah because someone was talking about going on dates with women," you pointed out, narrowing your eyes.

"Well someone else, was talking about having a boyfriend," Luke narrowed his eyes at you, and you shook your head.

"I never said anything about having a boyfriend," you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes just a tad bit more.

"I overheard you and Emily talking about it," Luke challenged, his eyes narrowing a bit more too.

"Oh, I know this one!" Penelope interrupted the stare-down you and Luke were having. "Luke was talking about dates because he was trying to distract himself from his crush on you," Penelope looked from you to Luke. "And she was talking about having a boyfriend because Emily was telling lovely here, that pretending to have a boyfriend would make you jealous enough to ask her out, newbie," Penelope cleared the air and you smiled at the memory of Emily vehemently trying to get you to pretend to have a boyfriend.

"Hm, guess you're off the hook, but only because you had a crush on me," you joked, sitting down at your desk finally.

"I don't know if I should let you off the hook, you tried to make me jealous," Luke joked back, causing you to whip your head in his direction.

"Luke Alvez, you better," you threatened, holding a pen in his direction.

"Or, what, princesa," Luke raised his eyebrows at you.

"O no me voy a casa contigo y tendrás que lidiar con la situación que tendrás después de que te moleste todo el día tú solo," you told him with a smile as his eyes widened.

Or I'm not going home with you, and you'll deal with having to handle the situation you'll have after I tease you all day all by yourself

"You're forgiven," Luke held his hands up and you laughed, winking at Penelope as she left the bullpen, likely to try and figure out what you said via the security cameras and some translation app.

"Paperwork, lover boy," you reminded him, turning back to your own.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Like this story? Here's my masterlist

[llorom4nn1c]

☆🎀 What I got for Christmas! 🎀☆

I got a lot of cool stuff for Christmas, so I thought it would be fun to show some of my favourite things that I got!

☆ Bat bed sheets:

I'm so happy I got these! I've always just had boring white sheets so I'm so glad to have these now.

☆ Emily The Strange hoodie:

I don't have any Emily The Strange clothes, so getting this was really cool! I just really love the cat and skeleton design and I think it's my new favourite hoodie.

☆ Pusheen sweater plushie:

This is literally me in autumn and winter

☆ Twilight purse:

This is my new favourite bag! It's so pretty and it goes great with a lot of my outfits.

☆ Twilight shirt:

I see these kinds of shirts all the time on Depop and I've always wanted one, so I'm so glad that I finally have one. This top also goes really well with a pair of Miss Me jeans that I really like, so I've been wearing it a lot.

☆ Skelanimals Roxie plush backpack:

She's so adorable and the pink glittery collar is such a cute detail! I don't have any other Skelanimals plushies so I'm really happy with this one. I really wish Skelanimals included Roxie in stuff more because I think she's really adorable. Also, her zipper is her tail!

☆ The Witching Hour by Anne Rice:

This probably isn't that interesting to most people, but I'm just really excited to read this.

That's it, byeeee!

[busylickingsatansballs]

Climb inside of me.

Nell Jackson x reader

Summary: Nell left you, will you give her a chance to make explain herself.

Notes: it only took me an hour, it's based off of a poem.

Inspired by the song Again - Noah Cyrus and XXXTENTACION

It hurt in a way you’d never felt before when she left, like grieving a missing limb. And then she’d died that pain was multiplied to the point of suffocation.

Then one night at the Talbot you saw her swan in the same way she left and your head started to spin.

She was back. And real, not something you’d made up to ease the grief.

You jump up and head for the front door heart pounding in your ears. Disappearing without so much as a back glance.

It killed her. So she’d asked Roxy to talk to you being too much of a coward to do it herself.

Roxy raced down the next day practically begging you to go see her. No doubt Nell had asked her to but you’d refused to let yourself even be entertained by the idea.

“she wants to see you ya know”  your head was already shaking side to side before she’d finished.

“She made her choice, she can just deal with it Roxy.” You had a very that was that tone as you fixed your hair, hands smoothing over your dress.

So Roxy didn’t waste her breath asking twice.

Fingers twist the material at your side, something you only did when nervous.

She’d frozen a second, hesitated like she wanted to say more but didn’t.

Knowing you were putting on a front deep down you wanted to see her, she relayed the message anyway.

The deflated look in Nell’s eyes when you refused to see her, broke her heart.

Muttering a sorry as she patted Nell in passing.

Nell couldn’t sleep that night. No matter how much she tossed and turned, fingers twisting in the sheets the gnawing, absence never settled.

Your face wouldn’t leave her mind.

You were best friends why couldn’t you forgive her?

Or at least you used to be before she ruined everything. There was no expectation of easiness but time had made her forgetful of your stubborn nature.

She’d get you back even if it killed her.

 You’d grown up together, she wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you go twice.

You the educated daughter of a wealthy doctor and Nell the uneducated daughter of a tavern owner.

She had no idea what you even saw in her sometimes but my god did she want to be seen by you.

You’d even slept in the same bed growing up, all snuggled up close under fading candle light fingers tight around your waist and Nell tried to pretend that it didn’t mean anything.

The delicate way you brushed your fingers over her features, faces just inches apart leaning close as you whispered to avoid waking anyone.

You consumed her. Lit the spark in her chest, she burned for you.  

That burn bled into your everyday lives, she could barely contain herself when the local men tried their luck. It was met with a polite decline from yourself or Nell threatening to beat the infatuation out of any boy who mustered up the courage to try.

Nell sometimes caught herself wishing she was a boy it would make everything so easy.

She’d make a good husband. Nobody would ever hurt you, make you cry or take advantage of your kindness again.

She’d always known she wasn’t like most girls and you only made it more obvious.

The thoughts started to scare her becoming more intense as you aged. So she’d done the only thing she could and married Jackson leaving as soon as possible. He was a good man, had understood her situation. Understood he was her way out.

Understood she would never be a normal wife.

You’d been heartbroken, friends your whole lives and not even a goodbye.

One day she was there and the next gone like a ghost.

Nell Jackson had broken your heart.

Eyes darting back and forth between your notes ignoring the burn in your eyes,

Thumbs rub them blurry but Nell’s face doesn’t leave your mind.

Your stomach twists with excitement as you finish writing a possible cure for a disease you’d been working on.

She seemed to be a lot of places you were lately.

You grown suspicious, suspecting Roxy of foul play sometimes but lacked the proper evidence to accuse.

You always found an excuse to leave. She didn’t need us, didn’t need you.

You’d avoided Nell for weeks, Roxy thought it was silly you opting to drink at home throwing yourself into your work.

Couldn’t you see that they needed you? Nell needed you?

You’d see the girls in passing but not as before, it was hard and you missed them but you all needed the space you’d convince yourself to ease the guilt.

You leaned back in your office chair stretching tired limbs throwing the book to the growing pile as you enjoy the silence.

It would be dark in a few hours so you wanted to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight in peace.

You’d earned a rest. Earned a break from your inner torment even if just for a moment.

Being the towns doctors daughter, people came to you all hours for help.

 You didn’t mind of course.

You were a sweetheart and the town loved you for it, beautiful, clever and exceptionally wealthy you had it all.

Well except a husband. But who wanted one of those?

Men were loud, rough and selfish. None of which appealed to you, women were soft, warm and smelled good.

Life would be so much easier if you could marry each other.

You often caught yourself wondering what it would be like curling up next to someone soft and warm..

A shake of your head puts a stop to that train of thought.

Those thoughts were for later, when it was dark and you could pretend your hand  was possessed, working of it’s own volition under your night gown. The thoughts that clouded your mind were put there by the devil himself to torment you.

You caved every time.

Especially these last few weeks you’d find Nell’s face creeping in more.

Which only made it harder to look at her.

You’d had proposals from all sorts of men looking to marry into your family, the ones looking for love. The ones who wanted money, the ones who wanted to use your brilliance for their own selfish reasons.

You turned them all down.

 One of the few lucky enough to have parents that didn’t care much about marriage marrying for love themselves.

The knock on your door startles, bringing you back to reality. You aren’t expecting anybody but then again you suppose you never were.

You look though the peephole, squinting till Nell’s features came into focus.

You swing the door open with more force than needed, Nell blinks in surprise.

“what do you want?” you know you sound rude, you try not to care.

 Hurt flashes over her features but it’s so fleeting you could have imagined it.

“well a hello wouldn’t go a miss”  irritation brews in your chest but it’s overshadowed with the ache of missing her.

You wanted to cry, bury your head in her neck and never let go.

“if I wanted to say hello I’d have called.” You quip cheeks hot.

You turn before she can see heading back the way you came with Nell at your heels.

You think you hear her close the door behind you.

You hope she has, it was hardly the safest village.

It doesn’t take long before your back in your office sitting back at your work station.

“figured I’d save you the trouble”  she stops awkwardly in the middle of the room taking it all in.

The overwhelming rows of books, ingredients. Scribbled notes scattering the table, Nell doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many books in her life.

“that why you’re here, to say hello?” your words come out thin and pinched, you find yourself silently cringing at your own voice.

If Nell notices she doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah well, I missed ya”  her fingers tap against a jar as she stares at the contents.

Your eyes watch Nell’s frame, she moves slow eyes scanning the various bottles and jars filled with all sorts.

“your the one who left” you huff.

“didn’t feel I ‘ad a choice” she’s looking at you now eyes gazing into your own.

“a goodbye would have been nice” you mutter.

“m sorry”

 Nell continues to study your shelves and the silence stretches on.

Too long.

“don’t touch that” your across the room in seconds hand gripping her wrist tightly, alarm in your tone.

Nell jars slightly, looking at your grip on her wrist.

“It’s a paralytic.” You offer, her blank stare let’s you know she doesn’t understand so you carry on.

“you’ll be unable to move, paralysing your body and lungs eventually until you suffocate and die.”

“Cheery” Nell lowers her eyes and you realise with great embarrassment you still haven’t let go of her wrist.

Dropping her wrist you put away the deadly concoctions in sight as a precaution.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to die.” You offer lamely.

Nell’s heart sores at your words, you still cared. “I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m magic.” her joke confuses you tone awkward.

Nell knows she sounds lame but she doesn’t know what else to offer.

You meet her gaze properly, her eyes are so pretty.

“did I do something wrong?” Nell’s mind goes blank, how could you ever do anything wrong?

“Course not, why would you think that?” you grip your skirt fingers tightening and untightening. Twisting and pulling until you can’t anymore.

Nell’s grip tightens around your hand gently pulling the offending hand from your already creased skirt.

“because you never said goodbye.” and it sounds like the most childish thing in the world to be upset about.

But you are.

She pulls you in, slowly guiding you until your eye level with her chin.

You daren’t let your eyes stray further. Her hand moves to hold your own squeezing gently.

 “I didn’t want to hurt ya, I had to leave. Had to leave before I did something stupid,” and of course it makes no sense.

“Stupid? I don’t understand” you pull gently, Nell doesn’t let go.

Pushing your wrists down until she’s forced to let go you take a step back.

“Stop talking in riddles and just be honest with me.”

Her brain freezes and she finds her mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out.

And so she does the only thing that she can, she kisses you.

Her lips are soft, warm. Unskilled they work against yours urgently.

Heat shoots down your spine coiling tight in your lower belly as she pushes you gently into the bookshelf behind.

You think you hear something fall but you don’t care. She’s so soft, eager and my god does she smell good.

Gasping for air you reluctantly pull back, releasing a shaky breath foreheads pressed together.  

You think you hear here apologising but it doesn’t register.

How on earth could she be sorry for that?

“I shouldn’t have done that” it’s not an apology but close enough.

“why not?” Nell doesn’t have an answer, you didn’t seem upset which was a win. 

She steps back and you panic.

Nell doesn’t miss it, moving closer to soothe you. “hey I ain’t goin nowhere” relaxing, you nod and step closer.

“it’s going to be dark soon, you should stay.”

Nodding wordlessly, Nell finds herself hypnotised as you lead her upstairs.

Finding herself in your bedroom watching you undress for bed, Nell can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world perching on the end of your bed.

You blush turning to find her gaze already on you.

“you sleeping like that?” you gesture towards her outfit. Trousers, boots, hat and a gentleman’s coat.

Pulling off her boots and coat, she hangs her hat over your bedpost, you blow out the candle.

Pushing herself up the bed as you crawled to meet her.

Snuggling up you press your head against her chest as you both get comfortable.

Whatever happened, you had each other. You were home.

[swan2swan]

Well, well, well.

I missed this before, but we have an approximate time of the campers' arrival back on the mainland, which may narrow down the location.

Doing the research...

They have to be between Panama City and San Diego (kinda knew that), just because it would be nighttime in Panama City already (6:42 sunset = 3:42 PST, the tilted axis is interesting), and it would be nowhere near that orange in southern California.

...I'm gonna assume they're on some city in El Salvador or Guatemala. The news is breaking and broadcast at 5:00, but the interview is clearly prerecorded, so that means it was probably between 3:00 and 4:00 PST...or 5:00-6:00 CST.

They could also have been in Costa Rica, if the boat Roxie and Dave secured was just really slow. Obviously, depending on who they contacted, what route they took, whose boat it was, they could have launched from anywhere. Still, a 24-hour journey is a LONG time, even if your boat is only making 10 knots, it should make it from an island near Nublar to Costa Rica within 12 hours.

Also, Costa Rica's government is probably the one maintaining the quarantine, so...you don't want to head there.

[deadassluv]

Okay this is my last post until chaos theory s2 comes out. I’m gonna talk about things I expect to see in season 2. Dinostar love confession/argument flashback- I need an argument or love confession. I want to see Brooklynn face when Darius told her his feelings, I want to see them argue, I want to see Darius hesitating on meeting up with Brooklynn. I just need more Angst.

Sammy’s family problems explanation- I need an explanation because how in the world did that even happened? Like why aren’t her parents talking to her? That girl sacrificed herself for them, why would they stop talking to her? Is not homophobia because Sammy’s father seemed to be okay with it in the last episode of cc, and Yaz even moved in with them. I heard its because she turned vegetarian or some like that but she literally ate a corn dog with Ben so I don’t think that’s it. The most possible one is Bumpy or her parents being afraid of living in the country side. Maybe her family didn’t wanted to deal with a dinosaur. Or maybe they were too scared to keep living on the country side so they moved, and that made Sammy not want to talk to them anymore. Idk, they better explain that.

Ben’s girlfriend- I need more information about her cause I ain’t believing that yet. The way he said it was not very convincing to me. (I think he might be hiding something.) but I do hope is real though. Just imagine how funny it would be if Ben asked Yaz, Sammy, or Kenji for girlfriend advice.

The Long Run chapter but reversed- What I mean with this is instead of Yaz saving Sammy, is Sammy saving Yaz. That’s it. I need it.

More Darius and Kenji bonding- I need this y’all. I want them to talk about their times as brothers when they lived in the same house and were taking care of by the same mother. I so need this :(

Brooklynn and Handler- I want those two to at least look at each other. Badass woman should always meet another badass woman. (Not a ship)

Mae, Roxy, or Dave- I want them to at least be mentioned. I miss Mae so much.

Angel and Rabel-Please come home your parents miss you. ;(

Nublar six back together- I want them to reunite with Brooklynn so baddddd. I don’t want them to be happy though, at least not right away. I want them to be mad at her because that girl made them sufferrrrr so much and for what? Like I better see some arguing.

Handler- I just want more handler content, she’s just too good.

The new characters lore- I’m so excited for the new characters they look so good, I want a background story for them😭

That’s all…I’m so excited for this season chat, I’m waking up at 3am Thursday to at least have an hour and a half to watch the show before I have to go to school :( (I’m binging when I get home)

[ikeep-forgetting-mypass]

As much as I like matpat I am dreading when he plays ruin because this is just going to fuel his 'gregory is evil' stich which I HATE.

Like, maybe stop demonizing this 9 year old. I get it, he has committed many crimes, as he should, and destroyed the glamrocks, but they can be FIXED. THEY ARE ROBOTS. THEY CAN BE PUT TOGETHER AGAIN AND ARE EVEN STILL FUNCTIONAL EVEN AFTER BEING SHATTERED.

You know who can't be fixed if he loses an arm or an eye? GREGORY (because he isn't a robot because FUCK THAT) like???

He is a homeless kid, of course he's going to be a brutal little shit and prioritizes survival against morals, he is on the fucking streets, and the animatronics have been trying to kill him for an entire night, making him run all across the PizzaPlex. You know how fucking big that place is!?

Also, him betraying Cassie makes zero sense for multiple reasons,

1: He went through fucking hell for Freddy and he only knew him for 6 hours, like. He was willing to steal a car and live with him on the road in one ending, tries to save him in the Afton ending, carries his head around, and is shown to cry when he's disassembled, something he is only seen to do in the Bad Ending or when Freddy is ok.

HE LITERALLY COMMITS MANSLAUGHTER IN ONE ENDING FOR HIS ROBOT-DAD FOR FUCKS SAKE.

Even when Freddy is possessed by Peepaw William, instead of trying to dismantle him, he tries to save him instead, when if it was any other animatronic he wouldn't have hesitated to destroy them.

Because of what the cutouts in Roxy Raceway tell us, Gregory and Cassie have a close friendship, him being the only one to show up to her birthday and giving her a napkin to clean up her tears. When you see his missing posters, you can see Cassie is crying, and due to him being homeless, she probably made those posters herself.

(which i am sorely disappointed if no one has made an angsty thing yet c'mon guys)

(I HC them as siblings, but I guess steel wool said fuck you entropy)

So why, if he was willing to do all of that for Freddy, where it was a plot point for all of the endings, would he betray Cassie and try to kill her? It doesn't make sense to me, adding onto my other point:

2: At the end, as everyone predicted, the mimic was pretending to be Gregory this entire time. I don't know why exactly it was luring cassie, probably to kill her or something, but the mimic is a whole other rant because it brings the books explicitly and that means GGY could be canon which. Ugh.

Anyways, it's revealed again to everyone's predictions, that Gregory isn't in the PizzaPlex, which I think is a missed opportunity but that's just me. Cassie escapes the Mimic and 'gregory' says that she awakened it (Afton) and then the elevator falls.

I see people saying that Gregory killed her, but my question is how?

If he isn't anywhere in the PizzaPlex, and can only see the layout, how was he able to cut the elevator wires if not physically present? Did he teleport? Did he magically get into the mainframe and somehow break it down? No.

In conclusion, if there's an installment following this it better not have a villain Gregory or I swear to God steel wool I am able to forgive you for hello neighbor I will NOT forgive you for that

EDIT: just some more things I want to add because MatPat is playing ruin and I am fueled with dread and excitement.

I see people bringing up the books and the whole patient 46 or 42 or 420 or whichever the fuck, which is still do not get, but I don't understand most things in this franchise anyways so.

Even if the mimic and GGY are canon, I still firmly believe that gregory's actions (if he did do them) were manipulated by William/Glitchtrap, with him being mind-controlled like Vanessa. If your going to demonize him for that, then you would have to do the same thing for Vanessa, who has canonically killed enough children to fill out a newspaper as seen in the Bad Ending when it's revealed Gregory is homeless.

(I don't know how or when old willy put his hands on my boy's mind, but It is not because he is a robot because he isn't. the only reason Freddy say's he's broken is because of censorship.

(PS, please stop censoring horror franchises unless it's actually depicts idk SA, talking to you Megan Is Missing. The original line was that gregory cut himself while in the vents. you didn't need to censor that idqbnofq)

Also, for people saying that Gregory is sadistic for destroying and harvesting the animatronics....

I see your point, and I raise that he is a homeless child who probably just got out of mind-control and is now being chased around a massive mall bigger than a 10 Walmart's and Targets put together, trying to escape 3 (4 and 5 if you count sun & moon and a hell of a lot more counting the security bots and damn endos) eight to seven foot hunks of heavy metal and sharp teeth capable of and known for destroying security bots because of Pizza and Jealousy Issues (Roxy and Chica) another that's infamous for destroying fences, his own room and is rumored/thought to have destroyed another robot, and a security guard who, (in yet again deleted voice lines that should have been in the game god damnit steel wool) he saw change into a skipping bunny with a kitchen knife all trying to kill him with only one protector for 6-7 hours straight with barely a moment to breathe.

What do you expect? him to be all "I'm so sorry *cries* let's all be friends!!" NO. in a better world and in a better made game maybe we could have that, but in this world no. Maybe he's a little remorseful, but in the way you kill a bug kind of remorseful.

Also, again, homeless children who probably had to raise themselves aren't going to be the most morally aware children, of course he's going to worry about his and the one person/robot who took care of him in a while above the ones who are attempting to murder him.

[kodamaghost00]

30 Roxanne Wolf Headcanons

———————————————————[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys! You are a Technician in these scenarios!

———————————————————

Let’s begin!

She’d call you “Champ” or “Cutie”. She would call you other nicknames based on your name too.

You’re the only one who’s allowed to touch her hair and tail. Everyone knows that.

She likes watching Adult Cartoons such as Helluva boss or Hazbin Hotel.

She purrs while you cuddle her.

Her love language is being mean to you. She’ll tease you with “idiot” and “baby” just to see you get pissed off.

She’s aggressive and dominant in bed. No matter if you want to be in control.

She’s also very jealous and protective of you. If she sees you simping for anyone she’ll make you regret that by loving you all night.

Even though she LOVES to talk about herself she’d never stop you from talking about your day.

You help her often with her makeup and she also helps you out with the Parts and services stuff. Like moving around heavy boxes.

When you do maintenance on her she almost bit you once. She apologized over and over again but in the after hours you still heard her blaming herself.

She said to you once “I am the best. But you’re a close second, champ.” She smiled sweetly at you and you did the same. It was her own way of saying she loves you.

You,Chica and Roxy also have many fun memories! Since Chica is Roxy’s best friend you three love each others company.

Roxy is definitely into BDSM. She loves to see you drool over her. The desperation in your eyes turns her on badly.

There was a time before you two were close. You heard her often doubting herself. You knocked on the door to her green room “Roxy? Are you alright?” She looked at the door, hesitating to say something.

She just screamed in frustration “YES IM FINE. NOW GO AWAY!”. You stand there not wanting to go away just yet. “Look Roxy… I don’t want you to feel forced to anything but…” you had a small pause “You can always talk to me y’know?”

She was hesitant but as soon as she heard you walk away she sprinted to the door and opened it. “…Can you come in for a second…?” wich you did. She talked about her doubts while her head lays on your lap and you caressed her hair.

She has a hilarious laugh wich makes you laugh along every time.

She initiated your first kiss. She pinned you against a wall with a leg between your thighs. She looks at your lips then to your eyes. Your heart is racing. “May I?” She asks. You quickly nod and you guys kiss.

She hates it when you make her wait too long. She loves trying out other aesthetics and fashion styles. But she enjoys her original look the most.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?” You ask her as she cuddles you. “Let me think…. Yes. Definitely yes cutie~” you blush as she nuzzles her snout into your neck. She loves making playlists for you. It’s a simple thing but it means so much to her since she only does it for her loved ones.

If she ever sees you wearing her merch she’ll stand in front of you flabbergasted. Mouth gaping. Drooling. “It looks so much better on you champ…”

She loves to show you off to the others. She’ll make everyone jealous cause she’s the one who gets to love you.

Even tho she is mean to everyone she has a love for the older kiddos (9-12 years old). She enjoys pep talking them into having more self esteem.

You guys cuddle so much that you even fell asleep in her arms one time… you basically missed a whole shift-

You enjoy her overprotective attitude. Once a Karen tried to attack you and she jumped and grabbed you. Holding you close to her chest she growled at the Karen.”Back off lady.”

She fixes her hair and makeup every hour to look perfect.

In her solos on stage she always sings Rock songs.

Once you told her that you were insecure about yourself and she just looked at you in disbelief and said “You? You mean the only person who’s on my level of pretty? Nha, I don’t think you should worry about anything cutie.”

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Perfect! Now that I’ve done the main 4 I might do the other ones next? Let’s see how it goes. And once again thank you all for reading my post. Have a wonderful day/night!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ