#we gettin to the demon shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 1 year ago

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where we meet. (e.w.)

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

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

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

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

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

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

As a dishwasher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday.

“You comin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

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

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

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

Where were you before this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You woke up screaming.

“Girl…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t sleep at all that night.

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

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified.

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

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

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

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

You’re not fucking crazy.

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

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

… It wasn’t a complete lie, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heavy exhale left her.

“I… Something was…” she stuttered.

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale.

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was odd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family. You almost broke down.

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

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you come pick me up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened when we were at the club?”

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

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

“I… I told you what happened— “

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

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

Celeste shook her head, “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything around you went dark.

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

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

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

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

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

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

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

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

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

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

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

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love me, Ellie… right?

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred.

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

Ellie… d-do you love me?

O-Of course I do—

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

—

You were never a rebellious kid.

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

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

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

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

Started drinking.

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

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

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

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See? I can stop whenever I want.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Hm?

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

But you didn’t believe her.

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

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

… Are you fucking drunk right now?

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

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

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

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

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

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night.

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

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

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

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered.

PRESENT

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doin’ here.”

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

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

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

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

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

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you.

She knows. She knew.

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

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

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

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma’am?”

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

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

Some silence passed before you spoke.

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

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

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

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

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

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

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

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

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

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

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

It can’t be.

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!”

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

“Look at me! I love you!”

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

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

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

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

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

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

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry—

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar.

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“E-Ellie?”

Silence.

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

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!”

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

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

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

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

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

A dark chuckle left you.

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

You’re awake. And you’re angry.

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

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

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

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

You’re going fucking crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

“… What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

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

Ellie… Ellie, please…

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark.

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

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

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

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

“Miss me?”

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you.

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

What the fuck, what the fuck—

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

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

Is… Did she cut you with that?

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

“E-Ellie?”

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

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

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

What the fuck is going on…

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

Her words were hardly registering.

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

“You’ve… you’ve been looking for me?”

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

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

Other side? “… Am I dead?”

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

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

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

“… I— “

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

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

“… Why’m I here then?”

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

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly.

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

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

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

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

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

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

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

“Oh, she’s starving— “

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

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

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

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

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

… Is… Is she really…?

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

“E-Ellie, El— “

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

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

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

You missed her so fucking much.

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

“You wanna watch?”

No, no no please—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

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

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

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued.

“So much fun.”

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

“You’re a bad kisser.”

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned.

“Yes, dear?”

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

“Am… Am I…?”

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

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

“Will… Can I, can I cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

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

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

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

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

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

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

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

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

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

Ellie…

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

Ellie… please…

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

I’m so sorry…

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

I miss you so much…

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

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

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

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

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

I love you… I love you… I love you…

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

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

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

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

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you…

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

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

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

You love me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you spoke first.

You love me, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively.

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

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed.

A sad smile grew on your face.

“Almost did…”

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

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head.

I wish I hated you.

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

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

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

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

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels g-good? Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your stamina’s fucked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy?

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

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

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

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

When you wake, there’s warmth.

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

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

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

@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

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

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 7 months ago

Text

get friendshipped, idiots

Vaggie: “Alright, form up. We stick close, stick together, we get out of here as fast as we can.”

Husk: “No shit.”

Angel Dust: “Aye aye captain Vagatha!” (pulls face) “Ugh…. new guy’s barely even moved in an’ he’s already slitherin’ ‘round my head...”

Husk: “Heh.”

Angel Dust: “Slitherin’ like a hot tongue ‘round a big hard-”

Vaggie: “Wrong side morons. Get on my left.”

Husk: “You can’t see shit on your left.”

Vaggie: “Wow really. Had no idea.”

Husk: “Why the fuck put us there? I don’t want you fucking accidentally stabbing me with that fucking spear of yours.”

Vaggie: “I won’t.”

Angel Dust: “Seeing us hot dudes really that hard on your EYE, huh?”

Vaggie: “Not like that’s an issue with you two around.”

Husk: “Seriously then why the fuck. Your girlfriend always stays on your right, so that’s the safest side to be on.”

Angel Dust: “Oh honey Husk, ya know we can’t compare to smokin’ hot demon princess of hell~”

Vaggie: "Just, get on my left.”

Husk: “Tell me fucking why.”

Vaggie: “Because I’m asking nicely?”

Angel Dust: “Could’a asked it nicer, toots. Could’a said ‘please’.”

Vaggie: “Will you two idiots stop wasting time and get on my fucking left side.”

Angel Dust: “Hmmm, lemme think about it.”

Husk: “No.”

Angel Dust: “I’m with Whisky Whiskers on this one. I’m all for things goin’ in me in general- not from you though. Not when they’re pointy. Not even if it WAS a dick, honestly. Not even if it had batteries an-”

Vaggie: “Alright I get it. I don't need to get your preferred dildo size."

Angel Dust: "How 'bout the brand~?"

Vaggie: "Cállate. Charlie give me patience….”

Husk: “Don’t you mean give me fucking strength?”

Vaggie: “If my demon hell princess girlfriend gave me strength you’d both be dead.”

Angel Dust: “Ya prayin’ to her was so cute I’m gonna ignore that.”

Vaggie: “Look-”

Angel Dust: “Us lookin’ isn’t the worryin’ thing here, Vag-EYE.”

Husk: “Uragh.”

Angel Dust: “Yeah I didn’t think that one through… So toots? Ya gonna admit you don’t mind if we get shived while ya not looking?”

Vaggie: “Not wanting that is WHY I need you on my LEFT, assholes!”

Angel Dust: “Oh Puh-leeease…”

Vaggie: “Shut up.”

Husk: “Wait-”

Angel Dust: “Charlie’s not here, ya don’t have t’ pretend you care-”

Husk: “Wait a fucking second-”

Vaggie: “NO. No more waiting. We’ve wasted that second, thanks to you two. Now shut UP, form up- and get in my fucking blind spot so I can keep my good eye out for your dumb, stupid, undisciplined asses!” (growling) “Ay demonio mio… deja de estar chingando…” (yelling again) “Fall in and don’t fall behind!” (marches off)

Husk: “….”

Angel Dust: “Well fuck that. She don’t got my soul in chains. I ain’t-”

Husk: “She wants us to watch her back.”

Angel Dust: “-whHAt?”

Husk: “You fucking heard me.” (following vaggie) “Come on.”

Angel Dust: (catching up) “You’re kiddin’. She’d sooner get help from a rabid-”

Husk: “She trusts us on her shitty blind side and doesn’t want anything getting the jump on us if she can help it. You heard that, yeah?”

Angel Dust: “…. she could’a just said so.”

Husk: “Like how you always say what you fucking mean?”

Angel Dust: “Sure as sugared tits, Huskers~” (sighs) “Whatever. Charlie Puff’d kill us if anything happens to her anyway.”

Husk: “She wouldn’t. You’d still feel like shit about it.”

Angel Dust: “Whatever.”

-after-

Charlie: “What. Happened.”

Vaggie: (sitting on couch face in hands, eye covered)

Husk: (hunched over, paws over ears)

Angel Dust: (hiding his grin with all four hands)

Charlie: “Guys.” (deep breath) “I’m gonna ask again- You’re covered in blood- which ISN’T yours? Right Vaggie? Definitely not..?”

Vaggie: (nods despondently without looking up)

Charlie: “Okay.” (breathes out) “Okay, we can work with this. But. WHAT. Happened.”

Them: “….”

Charlie: "No?"

Them: "....."

Charlie: "No one is getting off this couch until I hear what happened."

Angel Dust: "Keep sayin' stuff like THAT an' I know one person who'll for SURE be gettin' off-"

Vaggie: (GROANS)

Angel Dust: "See?! SEE!!! She ain't even denying it!"

Husk: "She's planning your funeral."

Angel Dust: "Oh she's plannin' something alright."

Charlie: "If we could not change the subject, please?"

Them: "...."

Charlie: “... Angel Dust. Since you have so much to say, would you mind?”

Angel Dust: (grinning) (grinning)

Angel Dust: “…..it was fucking adorable.”

Husk & Vaggie: (scrunch down)

Charlie: “The BUCKETS OF BLOOD was adorable?”

Angel Dust: “Naw, the-”

Vaggie: "Put a cock in it."

Husk: "You fucking swore-"

Angel Dust: (stretching out across the couch across the other two) “Oh c’mon gays! This is ME we’re talkin’ about-”

Vaggie: (shoving him off) “Don’t touch me.”

Angel Dust: (draped over husk) “-even for hell, this vow of silence shit is TORTURE!”

Husk: “Your whining in my fucking ear is torture.”

Angel Dust: “I could trying moaning instead, if ya want.”

Husk: (hairball sound)

Charlie: “Vaggie. What vow of silence.”

Vaggie: “… the one… that friends should keep for each other..?”

Angel Dust: “MMMMMMRRRRGHGH.”

Charlie: "Wait. Wait- the what..?"

Husk: "The vow of shut the fuck up Angel Dust."

Angel Dust: "MRRRGHGHGH!!!"

Charlie: “Unholy shit.”

Vaggie: "Charlie I swear on my right eye we're not coving up a murder- n, not one we planned on anyway, not premeditated- it was at most a collateral killing-"

Charlie: “Not that. You called them your."

Charlie: (anime eyes) "... friends…?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “If I say ‘yes’ will you not ask any more questions about the blood.”

Charlie: (already tearing up) “Ye-ess.”

Vaggie: “Then yes. These two…” (lowers hand) (GLARES) “…. Stupid, annoying, moronic idiots are my.” (grits teeth) “FrIENdS.”

Charlie: (bursting into tears) “OH VAGGIE-! THAT’S SOOOO-”

Angel Dust: (shrieking) “THEY TRIED TAKIN’ A HIT FOR EACH OTHER!!!”

Demon Charlie: (also shrieking) “-a WHAT!?”

Vaggie: “You…. bastard…”

Husk: “We should have left him there to die.”

Angel Dust: “But ya didn’t~”

Charlie: “WHAT HIT WHERE WHAT DO YOU MEAN HIT WHO TRIED HITTING YOU DID THEY HAVE HEAVENLY STEEL WHAT IF THEY HAD HAD HEAVENLY STEEL- VAGGIE WHAT THE F-”

Angel Dust: “Welp!” (gets up)“My sexy work here is done!”

Charlie: “-WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE OUT GETTING FUCKING GROCERIES! HOW MANY TIMES-”

Vaggie: “You ruined everything, asshole.”

Charlie: “-START SENDING DAZZLE OUT WITH YOU AGAIN HOW DOES THIS KEEP-”

Angel Dust: “Correction- I’m getting YOU ruined later tonight, by HER.”

Charlie: “-WASN’T EVEN THERE TO PROTECT YOU IT HAS TO STOP-”

Angel Dust: “Enjoy the feral possessive demon smex, Vagswag~“

Vaggie: “Husk, kill him.”

Husk: “You really can’t go through a single fucking sincere moment without hiding behind sex and shit, can you?”

Vaggie: “Thank you.”

Charlie: (wrapping self around gf) “-ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY!? AND YOU, HUSK???”

Angel Dust: “They would both fo’ real rather take a knife in the chest before callin’ each other pals, but yeah, other than that they’re just our average fuck ups.”

Charlie: “A WHAT IN THE WHAT!?!?!?”

Angel Dust: “Don’t worry, Princess Charmin’. They hugged it out. It was adorable.” (grins) “I took pics.” (flounces off)

Vaggie: “…. We might need to actually kill him now.”

Husk: “Damn.”

Charlie: (slowly stands)

Charlie: “H u g g i n g . . . ?”

Vaggie & Husk: “Shit.”

Charlie: (beaming) (Looming) “Show me… The HUG..:”

Vaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: “husk quick stab me”

Husk: “fuck no I don’t want to fucking die”

Vaggie: “it’s that or hug!”

Husk: “….stab me instead.”

Charlie: (singing) “The only things getting stabbed around here~! Are all my feeeeeeeeeeels~!”

Charlie: “Oh look Angel Dust sent me the pictures!!!!”

Husk: “We’re killing him.”

Charlie: “Oooooh these would look GREAT on the hotel web site!”

Vaggie: (horror) “Charlie don’t-“

Charlie: “It can be our new FRIENDSHIP banner image!!”

Husk: (bristling) “My fucking reputation-!”

Charlie: “Annnnd done. Perfect! You two look so CUTE, jumping into each other arms like that.”

Vaggie & Husk: (clinging to each other) “NOOOOOO!!”

Charlie: “Exactly! Awww~”

-late night group chat-

charliesgirl: i hate u

AnnoDickus: Congrats toots <3 felt this whole junk heap shake from that last one <3 <3 <3

charliesgirl: fuck u

charliesgirl: do u want a bath waiting in ur room aftr work

AnnoDickus: unholy shit! was it THAT good????

charliesgirl: u were stiff af running for ur life

charliesgirl: do u even stretch

AnnoDickus: Depends~

FourLettersFluffye: do not fucking ask on what.

AnnoDickus: Dicks mostly <3

AnnoDickus: Store bought is great too btw <3 <3 <3

FourLettersFluffye: answer her fucking question.

charliesgirl: my brain needs a bath aftr every talk with u 2 i stc

AnnoDickus: XD "stc"??

charliesgirl: swer 2 charlie

charliesgirl: evry 1 else can go fuck themself

AnnoDickus: XD XD XD you are SO lesbian for her it's painful XD

FourLettersFluffye: shithead.

FourLettersFLuffy: answer her.

AnnoDickus: Yes pleeeeeeease have a hot bath waiting for me to get wet in aaaaaaaall over again~ after a hot day being wet at work~~~

charliesgirl: bubbles y/n

AnnoDickus: What the fuck kinda bath you having that's got no bubbles?????

charliesgirl: i shower y/n

AnnoDickus: Now that's just SAD

charliesgirl: bubbles roger

charliesgirl: gg

AnnoDickus: To get fucked in the shower~?

charliesgirl: gf cuddles asshol

AnnoDickus: Bet you'd be getting it again if you took /baths/ ;D

charliesgirl: charlie cuddles > sex

charliesgirl: gn

<charliesgirl> has fucked off

AnnoDickus: And with that last bit of bullshit at long last the lesbian was defeated

FourLettersFluffye: she cares. maybe fucking answer that.

AnnoDickus: Excuse you?? i did!!!! i said bubbles!!!!!!

FourLettersFluffye: no you fucking didn't.

AnnoDickus: How is cuddling better than sex anyway. Do ppl cum while cuddling? fuk no you don't!!! more of her <3 bullshit <3

FourLettersFluffye: you're so full of it.

AnnoDickus: could be so full of you instead Mr Husky~

FourLettersFluffye: go the fuck to sleep.

<FourLettersFluffye> has fucked off

AnnoDickus: IM not the one with my secret hug pics posted all over the hotel front page

AnnoDickus: Pussies!!!!

<charliesgirl> is turned on

charliesgirl: hav u thot about being real w/ him for 1 sec

AnnoDickus: THOT LMAO

charliesgirl: guevón

charliesgirl: u changed log in notif

AnnoDickus: Maaaaybe I did toots~<3

charliesgirl: fix. it.

AnnoDickus: Nah <3 <3

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #chaggie #incorrect quotes #utter silliness #the only thing worse than having angel dust as a friend is also being actual friends with him #how many memes can i fit in here #hmm #a Lot

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yumeaoka-chan · 1 month ago

Text

A Witch & Her Spider

Pairing: Hobie Brown × Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Witch! Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: flirting, pining, clingy hobie, touchy hobie, lovesick reader, lovesick hobie, cursing, no physical description of reader(besides clothing), reader is AFAB, fighting(idk why I keep writing fighting scenes), blood, gore, death(it's really not as bad as it looks I promise)

Summary: And let it be known, no harm shall come to the Spider's witch, lest the culprit be webbed and eaten whole.

A/N: Credit for the lovely banners goes to @the-shroom-garden !!! Week 4 of Octobie @the-kr8tor , let's go!!! I promise the next thing will be a little more... wholesome😭🤚 Also, Hobie calls R starlight cuz her magic looks like stars💕

“Now where did I put that night orchid…?”

“...Still workin’, starlight?”

With wide eyes and a gasp, you turn around to level your intruder with a glare. A small huff leaves your lips and you place your hands on your hips, looking up at the smirking demon before you. He chuckles softly and leans down just so that your eyes are level with his, his multiple piercings glinting under the light. His long hair moves to frame his face, gold pieces adorning it like the most beautiful of jewels. You can practically feel his cool breath fanning your rapidly heating cheeks. Piercing gold eyes bore into yours as Hobie grins at you cheekily. It makes you scoff and you turn back to rummage through your cupboard of potion ingredients.

“Jumpy tonight, aren't we? Is it because it's a full moon?” You roll your eyes before handing him a a small glowing vial, a ghost of a smile on your lips. He takes it gladly, his grin turning genuine as he slips the sleeping potion into the pocket of his trousers. The demon barging into your cottage was nothing new, of course. You'd known him since you were twelve, after all. Just a young witchling who was tasked to summon a familiar during your studies. Only to accidentally summon a very powerful, very playfully annoying demon prince instead.

Hobie had been about the same age in demon years as you around the time yet, he still towered over you like it was nothing. As you had gaped at him in awe, all he did was take a look around your home and scrunch up his nose in apparent disgust.

“Not to be rude or anythin’, but it smells like a red cap had a party with a bloody ogre in here…” His words had snapped you out of your astounded daze and you let out a loud snort of laughter before pointing to your black cauldron. Black liquid bubbled inside, smoke from the brew wafting through the air.

“Tongue of wartfrogs and toenail clippings of ogre do tend to smell like shit.” His grin had been so wide that you could see the glistening pair of fangs in his mouth.

“Awful stuff, witchling. What poor bastard is gettin’ that?” After that day, you two were inseparable. He always took time out of his day to visit you, sometimes even crashing on your sofa just so he didn't have to leave. You never liked to admit it, but you enjoyed his company. Loved it, even. It was like something in your life just clicked in place when Hobie appeared and you truly wouldn't have it any other way. The feeling of arms wrapping around your middle pulls you out of your musings, a smile flitting across your face as he drapes himself over you.

You take a moment to lean back in his arms, closing your eyes as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Hobie's locs tickle your cheeks, his cool breath fanning your neck. Slowly, you turn in his arms to face him, tilting your head back as you look at him with a teasing smile. Gold eyes gazing into yours, warm and glittering and so very beautiful. It makes your breath hitch as you take time to admire his features. You've always thought Hobie looked ethereal and otherworldly, from his sharp chiseled jawline to the way his cheekbones sat high. Even his skin held this radiant glow that made it apparent that he belonged to another world entirely.

“You're awfully clingy tonight. Afraid you'll have to find someone else to cuddle though, Hobes.” You say teasingly as you pull back just a bit. He gives you a playful pout before chuckling softly, deep voice rich and warm in your ears. You hoped you didn't look as utterly taken with him as you felt. As you always have for quite a long time now. Hobie cocks his head to the side with a fond look shining in his eyes and you mentally curse the way your heart flutters in your chest.

“And why's that, starlight? Hm?” He's too gorgeous to be looking at you like that, you think as you force yourself to pull away from his embrace. Walking towards your bubbling cauldron, you wave your hand in the air, a black cloak magically appearing on your body in a shimmer of sparkles. Hobie follows you, eyebrow raised in question at the sudden summoning of your cloak. After whispering a quiet spell, the boiling liquid settles almost instantly, steam wafting through the air.

“Like you said earlier. It's a full moon. The perfect time to go foraging for ingredients.” Grabbing a wicker basket from off the shelf of your cupboard, you're surprised to turn around and find Hobie gazing down at you with an uneasy expression on his face. Brows furrowed and lips downturned into a slight frown, he crowds you until you're almost pressed against the shelf.

“Foraging? Tonight…? You don't really have to, right?” His words make you look up at him curiously. Hobie's easy going attitude is nowhere to be seen at the moment, just barely contained worry and something else. Something you couldn't quite find the name for. Giving him a smile, you press a hand softly against his cheek to ease his worries. You try not to dwell on how he instantly nuzzles his cheek against your palm when you do so.

“Afraid so. Night Orchids and certain mushrooms are only available during the night. And having a full moon means there's more in quantity.” As you move your hand back from his face, Hobie's hand is quick to gently bracelet your wrist, careful not to scratch you with his sharp nails. He places your hand right where his heart beats and you internally squeal when he leans down until your faces are inches apart.

“Why not stay here with me, yeah”, Hobie mumbles softly, gold eyes filled with warmth and shining as bright as the glittering stars. His other hand comes up to hold your chin, tilting your face up towards his more. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips and you turn your head away, pushing lightly at his chest as you try to calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“Something really is wrong with you tonight. What's with you? I'll be fine. Gone and back before you know it, promise.” You say hurriedly, voice a shaky mumble as you wriggle your way from off of the cupboard, moving so away from him and towards the door. Hobie's quick to grab you again before you can open it, his hand softly squeezing yours with something akin to urgency. You turn around to give him an exasperated look but falter when you see the pleading look in his eyes. He's serious about not letting you go out tonight. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, his eyes suddenly widen just a bit. He tilts his head to the side with a frustrated look on his face, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his lips. Moments pass before he lets out a long groan, releasing your hand so that he can scrub at his face in frustration.

“Stupid fuckers, I swear…”, he growls lowly under his breath and that's when you understand what has happened. There are times when Hobie gets mental messages from the Hells, some from his friends and others from his family, the latter he absolutely loathes. Hobie takes a deep breath before looking down at you again, his hands reaching out to gently rest on your shoulders.

“I've gotta go, starlight. I'll be gone for only a little while, then I'll come back. Please just… stay home and wait for me. Something about tonight just seems… off.” You want to laugh at his words, but the unreadable expression on his face makes you bite the chuckle back. Once you nod your head and reassure him that you won't leave, he's off with an annoyed scowl, slipping into the beckoning portal that he's suddenly opened on the floor. As soon as the portal closes over his head, you grip your basket and slip outside. The crisp night air makes you shiver just a bit and you pull up the hood on your cloak, humming a bit as you venture further into the woods behind your cottage.

Sure, Hobie might get upset that you left anyways, but he should know by now that you do what you want. Regardless of his very adamant warnings.

“He's such a worry wart. I'm a powerful and capable young witch! I can handle myself, dammit!” You huff as you kneel down to pick the patch of glowing blue mushrooms beneath a white oak tree. You spot a couple singing purple thistles a ways ahead, storing the mushrooms inside of your basket before trudging on. As you pick and search for ingredients, the one flower you've been searching for is nowhere to be found. After several minutes of looking, you let out a loud groan of exasperation. You frown as you contemplate searching deeper into the forest, glancing back at your lit cottage in the distance. Would it truly be a good idea to go so far away when Hobie said something was off around here?

As much as you trusted Hobie, you really did need more night orchids, especially for the batch of potions that your client was coming to pick up tomorrow. Steeling your resolve, you step deeper into the thick forest, the trees so tall that it seems like they're touching the moon. The stars are hard to see in such a dense part of the woods, so you utter a small spell, a pocket size ball of light magically flickering into existence. It floats in front of you, tiny shimmering sparkles trailing after it as it slowly moves in the air. It makes your foraging a bit easier.

While you travel deeper into the woods, a sudden feeling of unease creeps up your spine. It makes goosebumps appear on your arms and your heart thud loudly in your chest, so loud you can hear it in your ears. There's something like a thick aura settling around you, stifling the air and making it harder to keep calm. Your eyes dart to and fro as you start to pick up the pace, eager to find the night orchids and hurry on home. Spotting a bundle of the flowers, you quickly gather them and place them inside of your basket, clutching it to your chest as you turn to head back home. Hobie was surely waiting for you there by now, probably upset and pouting that you left despite his warnings. The idea of him waiting up for you eases the nervousness bubbling in your stomach just a bit and you speed walk towards the cottage.

The ball of light floats in front of you as you press on. It's then that you hear the rustling of leaves nearby, making you snap your head in the direction it had come from. Narrowing your eyes, you study the bush a few feet away from you, only for your stomach to drop at the sight of a pair of glowing yellow slits for eyes. Low rumbling growls surround you, the sound making sweat drip down your back, the barking the thing to make you break out into a sprint.

Werewolves, a pack of eight of them, froth at the mouth as they chase after you. Large dripping maws snapping at your heels and cloak, howls and growls ringing through the night. You can feel the saliva of one of them dripping onto your arm and you quickly flick your wrist in its direction, vines shooting up from the ground to grip its tail and yank it back away from you. Your chest heaves as you dash towards your cottage, wicker basket swinging wildly in your grip as you try to escape the pack of werewolves. Sweat beads on your forehead and the hood of your cloak falls off your head as you zoom past the trees. Glancing back, you can see another one lunging straight for your foot, quickly shouting out a spell to make it take a mouthful of flowers instead.

A yelp leaves your lips as you feel claws yank at your cloak, pulling you back. You quickly make it disappear into a pile of shimmers with a quick swipe of your hand, making the werewolf stumble and bark angrily. Just as you spot the lit cottage in the distance, sharp teeth imbed themselves into your ankle, making your scream pierce through the night sky. Gritting your teeth, you lift your hand and shoot small bolts of fire from your fingertips, hitting the werewolf in the eyes and burning its fur. It howls and rubs it's face in the dirt as you press on. Blood oozes down your ankle and makes your shoes soggy, pain flaring up every time you press down on it. You have to suck it up, have to keep going until you were home. Hobie was waiting for you, after all. You couldn't die here.

Just as you reach the yard of your home, claws sink deeply into your shoulder and teeth into your calf, and you cry out as you're thrown onto the ground. Dirt and sweat sticks to your cheeks as you groan with pain, your head having made an impact first. Crimson drips down from your shoulder onto your dress and you press a hand there to stop the bleeding. The pack of werewolves creep slowly upon you then, sharp teeth bared and claws on full display as they lick their chops. Panting from the flaring pain and the run to your home, you lift up a hand, your palm glowing a bright white as you ready yourself for their attack. Fear makes you shake and your lips tremble as you gaze at the pack of hungry creatures. You couldn't fight off this many alone, especially in your injured state. It was like you could feel Death kissing the back of your neck as you peered at your reflection in their glistening orbs.

The front door of the cottage suddenly slams open then, a thick and ominous mist spilling from inside. It makes both you and the werewolves look on with shock and anticipation. It's eerily quiet then, not a single one of you moves. Something darts out of the opened door moments later, so lightning quick that it's like a blur. There's a hiss and a sudden whimper before one of the creatures drop dead before you. Your eyes are wide with shock and disbelief as you look up. Hobie glowers at the pack menacingly, murder gleaming in his golden eyes, his pupils now thin slits. From his jaw there now sits a frightening pair of spider-like fangs, what he uses to viciously tear off the head of another werewolf. Crimson drips down his maw as the sound of bones snapping from his fangs sounds loud in your ears, and you can do nothing but watch as he spits the head into the dirt. His lower half is now that of a spider, eight legs long and black as night as he scurries over towards another. Using two legs and his claws, he tears through the creature, ripping it clean in half, blood and gore from its insides splattering his hair. Hobie mauls through the pack with ease, a fury you've never seen before marring his frightening expression.

Only one lone werewolf remains, shivering and whimpering as it watches its pack get decimated. Tail tucked between its legs and ears drooping, it turns to quickly escape, only to let out a terrified whimper when it comes face to face with the livid Spider. Hobie's hand shoots out to grip the creature by its neck, yanking it up until it's eye level with him. The werewolf whines, its feet high off of the ground now. Hobie tilts his head again, eyes cold and boring into the creature. His voice rumbles through the night and makes even your bones shiver.

“Touch her again and I'll eat you alive. You'll feel every agonizing moment of me gorging on your body. Understand me, dog…?” His threat isn't even that. It's a promise, one that you're sure he'll keep. Not even waiting for the creature to respond, he throws it away from him, his attention now on you as he slowly transforms back into his more human form. You can hear the creature howling and scampering off but you don't pay much attention to it.

All you can see is Hobie, whose frightening and menacing appearance has all but faded, his eyes once more those gold liquid pools of warmth you love so much. He's quick to bend down and scoop you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he walks inside of your cottage. The warmth of his arms makes you nuzzle closer to him and your eyes flutter shut as he presses a tender kiss on your forehead. There's no pain as he holds you safely in his arms, his every touch soft and delicate. You let yourself drift off to sleep as he cares for you, adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion settling in your bones. Hobie's whispered words are like the sweetest of honey, the most delectable of nectar as you slip into slumber.

“I've got you, starlight. I'm here.”

#octobie #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #octobie'24 #hobie x reader #fanfic #octobie halloween #demon hobie #witchcraft #witch reader

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 months ago

Text

A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)

The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059

(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert

“What in the nine rings is that shit?”

“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.

The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.

You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”

He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”

It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.

“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.

“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”

You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”

“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”

“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.

Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.

Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.

Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.

“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”

Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.

He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.

Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.

He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.

You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.

Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.

To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you.

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”

“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”

“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”

“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”

You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.

He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.

“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”

What?

“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“

He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.

“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”

Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”

“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.

“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.

“Alastor? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”

“Sure; however I can help.”

“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”

You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.

“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”

You were going to stop breathing.

“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!”

He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”

“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”

You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”

He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…

“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”

His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”

“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”

“What is the suction for, dear?”

When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”

He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”

“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”

“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”

If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.

His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”

Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.

You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-

Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.

“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.

“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.

Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.

His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-

Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow.

He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.

“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”

“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”

You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier.

You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.

“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.”

With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.

Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #to quote the tag from ao3 #jfc what is wrong with me #my stuff <3

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intheholler · 7 months ago

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what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

#asks #appalachian culture #spooky appalachia #appalachian folklore #appalachian myth #appalachia #appalachian #txt

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devildom-moss · 11 months ago

Note

May I possibly ask for headcaons for the brothers with a MC does not speak like at all? Like Zero words unless they’re in a position where they absolutely have to talk? Sorry for late request.

First, sorry that I still have so many requests in my inbox, and I kinda disappeared for two weeks. I was feeling kinda uninspired for a bit. None of the requests were fully clicking in my brain, but I tried. I hope you'll end up seeing this and will enjoy it, anon.

Reacting to an MC who doesn't speak unless necessary headcanons (the demon brothers)

(Suggestive for some: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Belphegor)

(Warning: Belphie's last headcanon has some creepy, messed up, dubcon-ish vibes)

Word Count: +2,600

Lucifer

He gets pissed off by it for the stupidest, most irrational reasons. When he lectures and nags you, he takes your lack of response as a sign that you were ignoring him or don’t care what he has to say. If he’s just trying to chat with you, and you don’t respond verbally, he assumes you’re uninterested in him. Lucifer gets especially upset when he asks you a question and you respond non-verbally (shaking or nodding your head, shrugging, pointing) – even if you’re answering him properly. All of it hurts his pride, and he’ll huff and pout about it all day.

I know he’s like the dad of the group, but if you don’t explain why you don’t talk, he’ll be so childish about it. He might even resort to giving you the silent treatment in return.

His annoyance is eased a bit when he sees that it’s not just him you don’t talk to.

You’ll confuse the poor man so much if you’re comfortable texting him. How is he supposed to take that? So, you’ll chat with him in messages, but you won’t actually speak to him? He’ll wonder if you’re mute and just never brought it up – but he hopes not, because then he would feel like an ass for getting mad.

Assumes that you’re just nervous or scared, so he tries to interrogate you for the answer. At least he’s smart enough to ask only yes or no questions.

You’re better off just explaining to him that you don’t speak unless you have to. He won’t push for your reasoning – although he’s curious. Eventually, he figures, you’ll let him know.

It’s still frustrating from time to time after he understands that it’s just how you are, but he can appreciate the quiet.

Definitely takes advantage of it to vent to you. However, he wishes you’d stop glaring at him when he does something wrong. It’s hard to enjoy the perk of you not scolding him when you’re burning holes into him.

The closer you get, the more he wants to hear your voice. You can’t tell me this man wouldn’t try to get you alone and tease you until you spoke to him, and then say some cocky shit like “There we go. Let me hear your voice. I can be the only one you share those sounds with.” Put him in horny jail.

Mammon

He doesn’t understand you. Even if you explain that it’s just how you are – even if you had a perfectly rational explanation for why (other than just not wanting to), Mammon wouldn’t get it. “How could ya not wanna talk to me, the Great Mammon?”

He’s always chatting or arguing with someone, so the idea of just sitting silently is unsettling for him. When you’re quiet, he starts to worry about whether you’re enjoying hanging out with him, so he’ll often glance over at you, scanning your face for any hints of your feelings. And, honestly, he gets pretty good at picking up on your particular expressions and body language.

Mammon feels weird about being the only one talking, so he tends to ask permission and check in more often. “Can I bend your ear for a bit?” / “Ya mind if I talk during our movie?” / “Just lemme know if I’m gettin’ on ya nerves or somethin’. I don’t gotta talk.” If you welcome him talking to you, he’ll be overjoyed – albeit a bit over-confident. “Damn right. I knew ya couldn’t get bored of the Great Mammon.”

After the pact, he loves that you are sparing with the “stay” command. He can only imagine how bad it would be if you used it whenever he got slightly out of hand.

However, he also gets bummed that you don’t really stick up for him when his brothers are insulting him. The comfort from you holding his hand or offering him physical reassurance is nice, but sometimes he wants more.

Feels sad that he can’t hear any praise or kindness you offer him through messages directly from your lips. He might bring it up and ask you to say something nice to him – especially after a rough day. “Ya can’t blame a demon for wantin’ to hear ya say it. Just for today? Come on.”

If he gets you to say his name (or really anything at all) in private, he’ll beg you to say it again and again. He wants to savor the sound of your voice and engrave it in his mind.

Leviathan

Take the older two’s insecurity and doubt, add it up, and multiply it by 23. He assumes you hate him at first – and his first response to that is “yeah. Fair.”

He gets so consumed by self-pity that it takes him longer than it should to realize that you’re like that with everyone. You aren’t singling him out just because you hate the shut-in otaku – although he doesn’t rule out that you still might hate him.

That worry doesn’t go away until you two start texting more often. You actually seem interested in engaging with him. A part of him still thinks that it’s just wishful thinking on his end.

He needs to get confirmation that you just don’t talk unless necessary – for whatever reason. Like Lucifer, he won’t push you for a reason. He’d love for you to open up and tell him if you have one, but you don’t have to. Once he knows that, he’ll be a lot more comfortable around you.

Levi loves that you’ll just let him go on and on about his interests. He’ll even leave you lengthy voice messages and patiently wait for a response. However, his insecurity gets the better of him, and he establishes a system with you so you can get him to shut up whenever (if ever) he’s being too much for you. It’s something simple like putting both hands up during a conversation or texting a stop sign to signal that you need him to pause.

Often texts you while you’re in the same room (much to everyone’s, especially Lucifer’s, annoyance) or messages you through games. You’ve both gotten lectured by Lucifer multiple times about not having your phones out at the dinner table.

The first time he gets you to laugh out loud at one of his messages, he falls so hard. He’ll be a flustered mess and immediately get upset that he didn’t capture such a beautiful moment on video.

Satan

He notices that you don’t talk unless necessary quicker than the others, so he’s not particularly offended that you don’t speak to him.

Probably the most understanding and willing to meet you where you’re at. He won’t try to get you to talk. Instead, he’ll try to incorporate different forms of nonverbal communication with you. Satan will try to learn some sign language with you as to develop more communication options that don’t require you to speak.

He’s good about asking yes or no questions and remains patient with you while you try to communicate with him.

It feels personal to him that your feelings are taken into consideration, and you’re given the tools and time you need to express yourself. Satan still remembers all the times he wished someone had been more patient with him when he was angry or hurt.

He’ll also communicate with you via text even when you’re in the same room. It’s a win-win. You’re free to respond however you wish, and he gets to hold a secret conversation with you. It makes it easier to plot his pranks on Lucifer with you, too. Lucifer can’t overhear any plots if you two don’t speak. However, he gets incredibly shy when he’s texting you and someone points out that he has a smile on his face. He’ll blush and get all indignant. “Shut up. I was watching videos of cats.” Which is, of course, a blatant lie. If he was, he’d be trying to show the videos off while gushing about the cats.

Satan will often try to communicate with you through books. He’ll share his books with you, often leaving notes inside that you can respond to – sometimes in the margins, but often on cat-themed note cards that he tucked between pages. Also, he would 100% write letters to you. Sure, he could say that to your face or in a text, but it wouldn’t be the same.

However, sometimes, especially when he’s on the verge of a rage-induced rampage, he just wants to hear your voice. He wants to hear you comforting and soothing him as he tries to calm down. He wants to hear you praise him. He wants to hear you whisper his name.

Asmodeus

He could talk enough for the both of you. Although he probably still talks less than Levi, Asmo has enough gossip to keep you entertained for hours. He could go on and on about nothing, just spilling ideas out for you to examine.

He doesn’t get why you don’t speak to him much, and it takes him a while to realize that you’re like that with everyone. “Aww, too stunned by my beauty to speak? Go on, you can praise me if you want. I only bite if you ask me to.”

If you shake your head “no” in response to him, he’ll be so insulted. You’ll have to explain soon after because Asmo will be pouty for days if he thinks you just don’t want to talk to him, Asmodeus, the cutest being to ever grace the Devildom.

After you explain to him that you don’t talk unless necessary (and that it’s not just him you don’t talk to), he’ll perk up cheerfully. “Oh, why didn’t you just say – oh. Well, never mind that. I’m just so glad you’re not immune to my charm.”

He appreciates it when you’re willing to listen to him. Even if you don’t respond to him verbally, he feels heard. Occasionally, he’ll ask to vent to you if he knows that your one-sided conversation is mostly going to consist of complaints.

He’ll text you a lot – often including a bunch of stickers, voice messages, and videos. In part, he’s hoping one day you’ll send him a voice message or video so he can have a file of your voice saved on his D.D.D. forever.

Pushes you to talk sometimes because he worries that he puts all the weight of his stress onto you. He doesn’t understand how you get your feelings out without talking, so he’s worried about you being all pent up. If you really won’t talk, he may try to drag you along during some of his stress-relief activities (spa days, shopping sprees, and I kind of headcanon that he would box on occasion just so he can punch something).

Definitely still flirts with you. However, instead of waiting for a response, he watches your expressions. “Well, if you’re ever feeling stressed, you can talk to me. And if you still don’t want to talk, pull me to a bed, and I’ll make you moan instead.”

Beelzebub

He’s not a big talker himself, but the absolute silence from you makes him uneasy. At first, he assumed you might be more of a listener like him, but after he sees someone try to strike up a conversation (or if he tries himself), he realizes that isn’t the case.

Wonders if he makes you uncomfortable. Usually, others don’t approach him or talk to him because he’s intimidating. So, maybe that’s the case with you, too? If one of his brothers mentions that you don’t talk to them when he’s around, Beel might question if you’re afraid of all demons.

He’s surprisingly nervous when he tries to ask. He’ll bring you an offering of delicious snacks, asking if you want to share with him. (In his head, no one who offers good food should be seen as scary.) If you accept, he’ll smile and wait for you to try it before awkwardly asking, “Hey, MC, are you scared of me? Do you not like demons?”

He will be overjoyed when you shake your head “no.” “That’s a relief. But why don’t you want to talk to me or my brothers?”

You’ll probably have to find some way to explain it to him eventually. He’ll let you off if all you do in that moment is shrug, but his “oh” in response will sound so sad. He’s smart enough to send a text later, asking if messages were an okay way to communicate instead.

Once he understands that you just don’t talk, Beel’s pretty chill about it. He still likes spending time with you – especially now that he knows you don’t dislike him. You don’t have to talk to enjoy meals with him or watch movies or exercise together.

He’s the least likely to crave the sound of your voice. That isn’t to say he wouldn’t appreciate it, but communicating through messages and physical touch is plenty for him. A tight hug, holding his hand, a kiss, caressing his arm – all of it speaks to him just as sweetly.

Belphegor

It takes him longer than it should to realize you don’t talk. Partly because of this, he’s pretty chill about it at first. He likes that you don’t nag him about sleeping too much or not listening in class or dumping his chores on his brothers.

Doesn’t notice until he asks you something and you don’t speak. He would probably be using you as a pillow when he starts chatting before he drifts off to sleep. His eyes would be closed as he awaits your response. Nothing. Annoyed, he would open one eye to see why in the Devildom you’re ignoring him.

“What, not interested in talking to me?” Nod. “That’s rude – but I’ll let it go this time since you’re such a comfy pillow.” Belphie would snuggle into you. Then, it would hit him. “Have you ever spoken to me?” Shake. “Really?” Nod. “Why not?” Shrug. “You can speak, right?” Nod. Belphie would scoff and finally fall asleep.

He (thinks he) gets it: talking is such a bother sometimes. He doesn’t assume he did anything wrong, especially if you’re letting him cuddle with you.

Belphie loves napping on you in relative silence. You can still stargaze with him while he offers free lectures on the constellations.

His understanding doesn’t last long. Eventually, he hates that you don’t talk at all. He wants to hear your voice when he’s falling asleep. He wants you to call out his name when you wake him up (and in general). Messages don’t feel like enough. He wants to hear you praise him and tell him he’ll be okay. Reading comforting, affectionate words is nice, but he needs more.

He will tickle you to try to get you to talk – or at least tell him to stop. He’ll ask you whether you would be okay talking to him in a dream, and he would probably invade your dreams without permission, seeking out your voice.

Belphie’s the least understanding and somehow the most persistent. You’ll have to send him a strongly worded message (or be extra and tell him via a letter) or get one of his brothers (Beel, Satan, or Lucifer) to tell him he needs to chill.

Honestly, he’s horrible. If he has already developed feelings for you and you are okay with some forms of physical affection, he would push his luck – kissing you deeper and touching you wherever he pleases. “If you want me to stop, say it. Or just let me have my way until you’re screaming my name.” He says that, but he would probably stop at the first sign of resistance and apologize (but it’s still a pretty messed up thing to try).

A/N: Again, sorry I've been so unmotivated to write here - and kind of in general, too. I hope this came out alright and it will give me some momentum to keep working on requests. I'll see if I can get something else up this week. The thing is, some of the requests are so long that they're daunting to even start - so that might be part of it. But I'll shut up now.

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countycashew54 · 8 months ago

Text

GUYS IM WRITING FANFIC

Caught-AlastorxLucifer fic

Also please remember this is my FIRSTT attempt at writing so... if you yell at me I will cry.

Waking up after a one-night stand is rough.

Waking up after a one-night stand with the Radio Demon proved to be just as horrific, if not more. Only the difficult nature of this wake up had little focus on Alastor at all. In fact, the opposite.

See, when you wake up to your daughter and her entire hotel, residents and staff, (although that's not saying much) barging into your room while you're in bed with the man who is also trying to parent your daughter; you're bound to have an extremely, painstakingly rough morning.

"Dad we can't fin- oh. OH-wo- that is jus-... Dad is that- Alastor?" Charlie was very clearly fighting to keep her shock and disgust off of her face, with a forced smile. Whether it was from seeing her father and her hotelier in bed together or the state of unclothed said men were in remained to be seen.

"Morning Deer!" Alastor smiled, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Shit- Charlie, sweetie, this isn't what it looks like, I mean we- he-"

"NO- I mean, no need to explain dad! I am super happy to see you guys are finally…getting along! In fact, I am SO happy about it that I am going to create an activity for our patrons focused on making friendships and boundaries! You know maybe you two could be the ones to lead the activity and-" Charlie's shock-toned voice began to trail off as she was slowly walked away from the room by Vaggie, who managed to glare threateningly at them both with her one eye.

Seconds, minutes?, passed by with Alastor adjusting his hair as if nothing just occurred, while Lucifer was engaged in a reluctant stare down with Husk, Angel, Niffty, and Sir Pentious.

Angel was the one to break the standoff, a wide grin on his face.

"So I guess now I know why Smiles wasn' intrested in gettin' a sample of all o' this," a lewd gesture to his legs by one set of hands, and a scrunch of his chest fluff with the other, "when I offered huh?"

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the spider while Lucifer began to feel a golden glow coming to his cheeks, "A-and why would that be? exactly?"

"ain't it obvious? Al clearly got a kink for short kings wit' more power than he's used to, I don' fit the bill on either o' those."

"I think you will suffice to close your mouth before you end up caught in your own web, Pest." The Radio Demon's eyes had begun to darken to black as his antlers grew steadily.

"HA! He's only mad cus' I totally got it right! Huskie-baby you owe me twenty bucks!"

"Yeah, yeah let's get out of here before he decides you're his next meal," Husk had begun pushing Angel away in almost the same manner Vaggie had with Charlie.

Another moment of silence ticked by..

"Ssso-" Pentious was cut off by Lucifer's growl.

"LEAVE. please," horns and scarlet eyes flared.

As Pentious fled, Niffty awaited instruction from Alastor, who then nodded to release her from her stand still. Once she was out of the doorway Lucifer slammed the door closed with a flick of the wrist, falling back into the pillows with a groan.

Alastor had returned to his usual form, still sitting upright he glanced towards Lucifer, "well that was an entertaining start to the morning."

Lucifer ripped himself upright to glare at the man, "what part of making our little night of fun known to the entire hotel, to my daughter, was entertaining to you?"

"Why the overwhelming discomfort from all parties involved of course," He then leaned forward to whisper, "you included, my darling, you now know how much I love to watch you squirm."

Lucifer froze as the words processed through his brain and sent chills down his body. His eyes slightly crossing as he gazed at the sinner with shocked lust.

As Lucifer was processing, the demon had already stood from the bed and snapped his clothing back into pristine condition with the use of his shadows, "I do hope to see you at this morning's breakfast, the tense atmosphere that our daughter facilitates won't be the same without you, mon ange."

With a swift kiss to Lucifer's cheek the sinner was out the door, humming a radiostaticed tune that sounded vaguely from the 30's.

Lucifer stayed still for a moment, calming his body down while also wondering what had just happened. A jolt came to him when he realized, “WAIT, OUR DAUGHTER?”

Once again, please be nice to me this is my first time writing anything so I literally winged it. Hope you guys enjoyed it :,)

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #radioapple #fanfic #ao3 #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer #appleradio #angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin niffty #hazbin sir pentious #fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #the radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne

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thefreakandthehair · 2 years ago

Text

"You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin — to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours — closer than you keep it yourself." Eddie quotes at Steve, poking him in the chest. Steve watches as Eddie sways, just a tiny bit but it betrays the facade of sobriety he'd been trying to hold.

Eddie’d once had a better tolerance but he couldn’t drink throughout his recovery and everyone was finding that Eddie is a tactile, Lord of the Rings-quoting type of drunk as a result.

They’re alone in the corner of Steve’s living room, their arms wrapped one another, and it mustn’t be shocking because no one is looking their way. Only their closest friends are present and they’re left with plenty of room to touch without strange looks.

"But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo." Eddie finishes and flashes a warm smile at Steve and sure, Steve is a little less than sober himself but it’s the same smile Eddie’s been tossing him for fucking months and Steve is just tipsy enough to catch it.

“You tryin' to tell me something, Munson?” Steve asks, reaching one arm out to steady his friend. Yeah, sure, just a friend, his mind teases.

It’s been a solid six or so months since they’d been victorious against Vecna and shut down the Upside Down for good. And okay, he and Eddie have shared a bed more nights than they haven’t since then and it’s perhaps been a lot more than just friendly to Steve, but he’s learned not to make assumptions.

People don’t always feel about him the way he feels about them, and he can handle that. He can. At least, he can until Eddie starts drunkenly quoting the Lord of the Rings at him after a few shots at his New Years Eve party leading into ‘87. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of neck, absently tugging on the hair at the nape, and Steve is trying to sober up enough so he doesn’t kiss his friend and read this all wrong.

“You were Frodo, Steve. And I was Sam. And I love you.” Eddie says, giggly but genuinely with both his hands digging into Steve’s waist now. The grin is real— it touches his glossy eyes and spreads across his face easily.

And I love you bounces around like a rogue ping pong ball in Steve’s chest. Steve sees that Eddie’s drunk— he can tell from the giggle, the tight grip on his skin, the glossy eyes. And Steve is heartbroken. He’s been head over heels for the man in front of him for at least the three months, consciously at least, and here he is, reminding Steve of everything he can’t have.

“Man, don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, alright?” Steve tries to make it joking, tries to laugh and smile in the way he thinks he should because Eddie's drunk but shit, if he hasn't daydreamed about Eddie saying those words to him.

Eddie though? Well, Eddie might be drunk but goddamn it he knows Steve. And he means it. He loves Steve so much, it feels like it's trying to claw its way out of his body. He's just tipsy enough to finally tell him.

“Stevie, I do mean it. I mean okay—” Eddie readjusts his Zeppelin shirt beneath his leather jacket and stands taller, fingers threading their way through Steve’s belt loops. “I may not be completely sober but I’m like, completely fuckin' in love with you? How dumb is that?” He laughs and ducks his head against Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around back Steve's waist where this all began.

“Not dumb at all, Ed. Not dumb at all. Ball’s gonna drop soon, wanna watch it?” Steve feels Eddie's laugh against his chest where he holds Eddie tighter, suddenly afraid of beginning a new year. Eddie clings to him and Steve's brain begins a hysterical loop of questions like What if Eddie suddenly doesn't want to be this close when it's not 1986? When it's not the same year that we'd met and fought demons together? What if this fades, like everything else has?

"I dunno, do you love me? Be a hell of a way to ring in a new year, gettin' kissed by the one and only Steve Harrington!" Eddie's question throws a stick into the wheel of his looping brain, screeching it to a halt.

Steve knows this isn't the time and he knows Eddie probably won't even remember this in the morning but he does it anyways. He pulls back, takes a look around the room where all of their friends are cheering and counting down.

Robin had started the countdown at 60 seconds, just a touch too early, and they're only at 47 when Steve runs both of his shaking hands up and down the length of Eddie's arms. The last time they approach Eddie's shoulders, he keeps them there and inches closer, searching Eddie's wide, beguiled eyes for hesitation and finds none. Just finds what he always does: warmth, joy, comfort.

"39!"

"38!"

"37!"

"Ed, stop me if I've got it wrong."

"36!"

"35!"

"Definitely not wrong, Steve."

"33!"

"32!"

It's still 1986 when Steve Harrington finally kisses Eddie Munson. It's soft, gentle, close-lipped and tender without pushing for more. Eddie's fingers go numb and his toes curl in his boots, and Steve sees colors in a new way when they pull away and open their eyes.

"I do love you, Eddie." Steve says, breathless and happy in a way he hasn't been in years. He's still afraid, but even if he only gets this one moment, he's going all in for it. "So fucking much."

One palm comes up to rest on Steve's cheek, warm metal against his skin in the way of Eddie's rings. "It's not even the new year yet." He says with a laugh and a smile with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"19!"

"18!"

"Couldn't wait. I'll do it again in 1987, if you'll let me?"

"Any year, any dimension, Steve."

The countdown is getting closer and Dick Clark is yelling on the television when Steve grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him to join their friends, one arm slung over his shoulders and Eddie's around his waist. Steve gets a beaming smile and cocked eyebrow from Robin and his nod is all she needs.

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

People start pairing off, and Steve's sober enough to realize that none of this would have made sense to him just a few months prior. Robin pulls Nancy closer with the hand not holding an obnoxiously loud noisemaker, Argyle smiles meaningfully at Jonathan, and Steve finds himself being spun back to face Eddie.

"Ready?"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

It's 1987 when Eddie Munson finally kisses Steve Harrington. They don't join the chorus of Happy New Year's! around them because it's Eddie's turn to kiss Steve, and he fucking does. A little harder, a little more tongue, a bite or two when Steve returns the same eagerness and impatience. It's Eddie who breaks the kiss, lips shiny and swollen.

"Gotta good feeling about '87, Stevie. Got a really good feeling."

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st fanfic #myfic #fun fact: i wrote this in a draft on here last night while drinking and completely forgot about it until now #it's definitely not inspired by /me/ quoting lotr when i've had a couple of drinks (as several people found last night)#oops i gave eddie another personality trait <333 #alcohol tw #myblurbs

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snekwritesstuff · 9 days ago

Text

Take A Break (pt. 2 of ?)

Part 1 Here! Pairing: Doomed Polycule? I think? Word Count: 948 Warnings: Bill is once again a little shit, don't assume this is healthy yet. Otherwise, none!

hi hello we're back with this again. i have some ideas for this still but im not sure how to implement them all. anywho...enjoy!

Fiddleford was ready to wake up. As he clung to the wall behind him, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Bill in the flesh. Or at least in the…whatever he was made of. The demon's eye pierced his own, sending a bolt of anxiety through the engineer.

“Specs! Good to finally meet you, eh?” Bill said, holding out his hand and closing his eye in a smile.

Fidds could only nod, sliding down the cabin wall.

“I hear you wanna talk! Name's Bill, though you seem to already know that.” When Fidds didn't shake his hand, he brought it back with a shrug. “And you're Fiddlesticks! Gotta say, for a hick, you seem to have a pretty nice mindscape in here. But maybe that's because you've used the old memory gun a few too many times.”

“You know about the gun?” Fidds asked, voice cracking.

“Of course I know about the gun!” Bill laughed, suddenly approaching Fidds’ face. “And I know about your wife, and about your desperation for my Fordsy.”

“My–”

“Oh, don't play dumb with me, Specs, you gave him googly eyes before you left the basement. And it's almost like, and I'm spitballing here, I'm in your head.”

Fidds’ face flushed red as he turned away. “This isn’t fair, Bill. I’m tryin’ to have a civil conversation.”

Bill blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Civil? Where Fordsy is concerned? Never.”

“So you two are…Not important. Not…yeah.” Fidds sighed, bringing a hand to his face. “Look, you’re a little intimidatin’, but if you’re makin’ him happy, then I can’t complain. Just try to be mindful of ‘im. And, well, I think you and I should at least try to play nice since we both clearly care for ‘im.”

“Hm, asking something of me without giving me something in return…Not my style, Specs.” The demon tapped a finger to where his mouth would have been if he had one. Did…he have one? “Though, I do love a good deal. How ‘bout we make one?”

Fidds shook his head vigorously. “Mama raised a godly boy, and while that may be different now, I know better than to meddle in devilish voodoo.” He shuddered with a grimace. “This dream's plenty proof for me that you exist.”

Bill twirled his cane, a hand behind his head. “Fordsy likes you too, y'know.”

“Not my business. He's got his love life, I've got mine. No need to–What?”

With a laugh the demon swam in front of the engineer, his chin resting on folded hands and legs kicking behind him. “I couldn't give less of a damn if you like him, Fiddlesticks. I care because he always gets so prickly when his little hillbilly's involved. You're a smart one, but nothing like my Sixer.” His large eye inched ever closer towards Fidds. “Which makes me curious. Why does the greatest mind across every dimension care about someone as mediocre as you, when he has a god that cares about him and can boost his potential?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” The sting of those words hurt more than Fidds wanted to admit. “But I know a gamble when I see one, and I'm starin’ one head on. What is he gettin’ out of this?”

“Power beyond any mortal mind's comprehension, an expanding kingdom to rule and study as he sees fit, a life with his Muse…” The demon tapped his fingers in a counting motion. “What else could my Fordsy want? Certainly nothing you could provide.”

“Ford's not interested in power,” Fidds spat.

“Oh-ho, boy are you wrong!” Bill laughed. “All humans want power!”

“I don't–”

“Hold on, hold on, get your suspenders out of that knot! Power manifests in different ways, Fiddlesticks.” The demon jabbed a finger towards the man's glasses. “But we're getting off topic…Here's the deal. I can't physically enter your realm unless that portal's finished.”

“Good,” the engineer growled. “I don't want you anywhere near this place.”

“I mean no harm, of course, and even if I did, Ford's willing to help me. My offer to you is if you let me drive this bad boy around every once in a while, I can make sure we both get a piece of our favorite scientist.”

Fidds’ face twisted in disgust, shaking his head again. “Ford would never. And you’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’d let you use me to keep twistin’ his brain every which way.”

Bill shrugged. “Your loss, Fiddlesticks, but the offer’s always on the table! Anywho, time for me to go! Nothing matters, buy gold, bye–”

“Now hold your horses!” At Bill’s slow blink, Fidds continued. “That’s all? You come into my head, ruin my night, and-and you’re just gonna leave? I haven’t gotten a single word in! What do you really want with Ford?”

“I just told you, Specs, keep up!”

Fidds finally stood, shoving a finger in the demon’s face. “I ain’t stupid, Billy, you know exactly what I’m askin’ you!”

“And I ain’t tellin’ you!” Bill’s accent was a mockery, fueling Fidds’ bubbling rage.

“Fine then! But if you hurt him, there ain’t nothin’ in any dimension that can stop me from tearing those stupid little limbs off your stupid yellow body and feeding them to you one by one.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Fiddlesticks!” Bill patted Fidds’ head condescendingly. “You’re fun! I’ll be here more often, I think. Bye!”

As the demon disappeared, Fidds woke up with a start. He slammed a fist against his mattress and stood. Pacing the floor, he muttered to himself before sitting at his desk and drawing up blueprints for an inter-dimensional death ray that aimed only at yellow triangles.

#snekwrites #writing #gravity falls #billfiddauthor #billfiddlesford #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #bill cipher #fiddauthor #billford #fiddlebill #playing loose with plotlines and shooting from my own canon

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laughroditee · 6 months ago

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Your Ghost | Part 2 - XIII Death

Part 1 is here

CW: this story takes place after Soap's death and contains supernatural elements, tarot, mentions of death and blood

Summary: Evangeline reluctantly goes to talk to Simon about Johnny at Johnny's urging.

Mood Music:

The ghost of John MacTavish looked down at me with a serious expression. “I did. I need yer help, Evangeline. Yer the only one who can do it.”

“No,” I said.

He blinked. “‘No?’”

“No,” I repeated, my eyes a little too wide.

“Ye haven’t even heard what I want from ye.” John looked annoyed, his brows drawing down in a frown that lined his face. It made him look maybe just a little bit intimidating. Having issues with displeasing someone, who me?

“Don’t want to. Can’t.” I shook my head for extra emphasis as if I needed it. “Mm-mm.”

“Are ye always so childish?”

Oof, right in the feelings. “You want me to talk to someone, don’t you?” I accused, my finger jabbing the air at him.

“How—?”

“Knight of Swords. Air. Communication,” I explained as if this were common knowledge and a perfectly logical conclusion to reach. “You just have that very chatty air about you, and I dunno, man, I’m not about that life. I have social anxiety. I don’t play well with strangers because I’m too busy having a heart attack around them. It’s just not a strength that I have.”

John looked momentarily apologetic before despair swallowed the expression. This gave me pause. Fuck me and my Catholic guilt. “Fine! Okay, alright, I’ll hear you out, but I can’t promise you anything.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, just trying to quell the anxious jitters making my fingers shake, The Knight of Swords card dancing slightly in my grasp. I placed it back with the other two in the reading and looked up at my ghostly kinsman.

John’s examining gaze was concerned as he stood across from me. “Ye alright, lass?”

Reminding myself to take a deep breath, I simply nodded.

A single confirmation nod from John was all he gave before launching into his story. “I was a soldier in life. SAS. British special forces. We were on a mission a few months ago, chasin’ a Russian terrorist in the London tunnels. Makarov.” His eyes blazed as the memories washed through him, spitting his enemy’s name as if it were poison. “We had ‘im too. But the fucker was slippery. My captain and I got shot while we were diffusin’ a bomb.” John’s hand went to his shoulder as if to soothe the phantom wound. “Makarov was about to finish ‘im off – my captain, I mean – but I managed to get up and clap the bastard, only… I ended up gettin’ shot in the head. Killed instantly. Then Makarov buggered off.”

I listened intently to John’s story, my heart squeezing in my chest for him. “I’m so sorry, John. I… don’t know what else to say. You were really brave.”

He smirked. “A lot of good it did me. Still, Captain Price is alive, and I dunnae regret that.” His eyes seemed focused on something far away, and I waited for him to continue.

When he didn’t, I had to prompt him. “John? What is it that you want from me?”

His eyes refocused on me, his mouth set in a grim line. “I need yer help, Evangeline…. My boyfriend was there that day. One of my teammates. He’s not doin’ well.”

Shit. I blew out a long breath as if I was trying to exorcise my demons. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated uselessly. “John, I’m… probably the last person you want to go and talk to your boyfriend about your death or literally anything else. I suck at this kind of thing. I never know what to say to grieving people, even if I’ve known them forever. Words just aren’t enough.”

“Please,” he said, kneeling by the bed, his ghostly hand passing through mine as it lay on my lap, chilling me. “You’re all I have, lass.”

Despite the urgency in his voice, I was hesitant for reasons that should have been obvious. I stared down at the three cards on the bed once again, reinterpreting the reading as The Knight of Swords representing John, the Death card — for the first time in one of my readings — representing his literal death, and the Three of Swords representing his boyfriend’s subsequent heartbreak. There are always multiple ways to interpret the cards in every situation; you just have to move through it and see what fits—a little like grief.

I looked back at him with an expression of resignation on my face. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His face lit up. “So you’ll do it?”

I sighed, coming to terms with the decision I was about to make. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Sorry I called ye childish,” he said apologetically.

“Mm.”

“Yer beau’iful,” he tried again.

I gave him a grin. “Aww, how kind of you to say.”

“Yes, I am kind. Now you compliment me.”

“Why should I when you just did it yourself?”

He chuckled before his expression sobered. “Thank you, Evangeline. I cannae repay the favor you’re doin’ me.”

I looked back at him, noting how similar our eyes were. “You can owe me in the next life, how’s that?”

“Sounds like a fair deal. So, are ye gonna clean up this mess?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to clean yourself up.”

“Funny.”

I leaned down and started to gather my fallen tarot cards, picking out carpet lint and hairs occasionally as I stacked the deck.

”Y’know…,” he began, “ye make me wish I could’ve met you while I was livin’. Think we coulda been friends?”

Deck neatly in hand, I looked up at him, a warm, bittersweet feeling blossoming inside my chest. “Yeah, I think we could’ve been. Could still be.”

He laughed. “Well, bein’ friends with me is a blessing in itself.”

“I’m sure it is.”

We headed out by taxi to John’s old flat to see his boyfriend, Simon. Simon Riley. I turned the name over in my mind as we drove, wondering what kind of man he was. It was odd traveling in a car with a complete stranger, knowing that you have a ghost with you. I kept looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, paranoid that he’d be able to see John, but aside from my own awkwardness, the trip concluded uneventfully.

I stared at the door that I was supposed to be knocking on and felt immediately threatened, that familiar fight-or-flight feeling making my extremities tingle. “Shit. John, I can’t…”

“Easy. I’ll be right here; I won’t leave ye. But we have to get in and get to Simon, alright? The eejit’s blootered.”

I stared at him in confusion. “He’s what?”

John rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Drinkin’, hen. He’s right sloshed. Now get knockin’.”

Stepping toward the door, I looked at John and said, “I feel like your Scottish level just increased.” I wrapped my knuckles on the door before I lost my nerve and stepped back.

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think yer just too American to understand—“

The door flew open, revealing the personification of my Death card: an enormous man wearing a skull balaclava, no shirt, about one billion muscles, and an appropriately sized scowl. His displeasure was evident despite the mask covering his features. It radiated off of him in waves like heat, like the smell of alcohol that invaded my nostrils as it drifted out from him. Piercing dark eyes stared down at me briefly before squinting, and then he slammed the door in my face. I could hear his heavy footfalls retreating further into the flat. I looked at John, at a complete loss, and maybe with a bit of anxiety. Just a wee bit.

He sighed. “Knock again, Evangeline. He’ll answer.”

“Why do you not look convinced?”

“Because I’m not.”

“I appreciate your honesty. Is he gonna kill me?” I asked, somehow finding the nerve to knock again through my blooming dissociation. It was a genuine fear. What do I actually know about these guys? Not much. John hadn’t told me anything about Simon besides that they were both in the military. He most certainly didn’t tell me about how absofuckinglutely intimidating his man was; he looked like he could just break me in half with those dark brooding eyeballs of his, no hands necessary. My heart lurched, palpitating in my chest wildly like a canary in a proverbial coal mine.

“He won’t kill ye,” John assured me and my anxiety.

Ten beats passed. Nothing.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” John said in frustration and then disappeared through the wall of the flat. I could hear him swearing and yelling, all in vain. He emerged, raking a hand through his mohawk in irritation. When his eyes finally locked with mine, a silent plea filled them.

I didn’t like that look on John’s face; the pain and concern etched there was almost a tangible thing, and it hurt. It made me feel edgy and a bit unstable, as if the ground beneath me wasn’t as sturdy as I believed before coming out here. I stepped up and knocked again, louder, more insistent. For him.

This time, I could hear the lumbering stomps of Simon’s gait as he approached the door to the flat, and I braced myself for whatever might come. My hair sucked forward from the sudden vacuum the door caused, and I nearly expected the door to be ripped from its hinges, such was the velocity at which the door opened. I hadn’t stepped back, but Jesus, I wished that I had.

“The fuck do you want?” Simon’s voice was a low growl, his thick British accent raking across me like a physical attack.

There was that small animal voice in the back of my head as I looked up at the angry behemoth at the door, which said, with zero doubt, “You are going to die.” He braced a forearm on the doorframe, leaning in closer. My eyes widened fractionally with every millimeter that decreased between us. Shit.

“Um… A-are you Simon? Simon Riley?”

He blinked at me with unfocused eyes. He’d been drinking heavily as he reeked of alcohol, which was wonderful for me because we all know that drunk people are totally predictable. “Who’s askin’?”

My eyes flicked to John, who stood beside the door, nodding encouragingly. “M-my name is Evangeline. I’m here about John—"

“Johnny,” John — or Johnny — corrected me.

“Johnny?” I glanced at my ghostly companion, who nodded.

Simon narrowed his eyes. “The fuck you on about?”

“Look, I know this will sound crazy, but he sent me here with a message.” This was a bit of a stretch since, now that I thought about it, Johnny didn’t actually give me a message for Simon.

“So, what, you’re a bloody fortune teller?” Simon asked, his gravelly voice seething with bitter outrage.

Shit shit shit shit shit. “No, that’s not—“ I started, taking a defensive step backward, but he barreled on.

“What the fuck do you want here?”

“Johnny wanted me to—“

I had little time to react before he picked me up by my jacket lapels and slammed me against his door, the air quickly evicted from my lungs. The back of my head stung as I looked in horror at him.

“Johnny doesn’t want anything. He’s fucking dead.”

I froze under his gaze, which was both hateful and wounded, the cold rush of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream.

Johnny interjected in a panic, “The first thing I ever said to him was, ‘I’ll save you a seat, sir.’ Tell him!”

I could feel my throat starting to close up. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe.

“Shit.” Johnny rushed forward, moving through Simon, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but it was useless. Next, he passed through me, my body feeling the chill of his presence, a strange, otherworldly shiver as suddenly, my mouth moved.

“LT, let ‘er go.” The voice was mine, but the speaker was Johnny, his Scottish inflection clear in my voice.

Part 3

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #soap cod #simon riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #tarot #female oc #female original character #spirit medium #your ghost #your ghost cod fanfic #laughroditee #Spotify

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spunsugarmusings · 11 days ago

Text

"Dracula Flow" Sentence Starters

Sentence starters taken from plummcorp records' Dracula Flow series, entries 1-5. TW for profanity, drugs and alcohol, parental neglect, and sexual references. Change pronouns and tenses as necessary, and enjoy!

"This shit ain't nothin' to me, man."

"I had to do it to them, snipe."

"I'm not loyal to anybody, I'm a demon!"

"I have no loyalty for anyone, never did, never will."

"Shorty chose to be with a demon, sounds like her problem to me!"

"I have no sympathy, I live for this shit."

"Yeah, we gettin' that Pirate Bay, alien shishkebab, cordyceps money!"

"I hope them aliens are real, so that I have more things to fuck!"

"I just popped a whole garbanzo bean, fuck you mean?"

"I'm him, I been him, I will continue to be him."

They thought they could stop a demon, I'm back!"

"The zaza got me speakin' Esperanto."

"I don't even know who I am anymore, I'm gettin' too much money."

"Can you remind me who I am?"

"Get the president on the phone now, I fronted him a brick, I need my money."

"I'm moving different."

"They must have amnesia, they forgot that I'm him."

"I'm on them Broward County Tic-Tacs!"

"I don't give a fuck if I go blind, I don't need to see the price tag anyways!"

'"We're smokin' filtered crack, you stupid piece of shit!"

"I'll fuckin' kill you!"

"Call that pussy The Matrix, because I'm in this bitch and I can't get out."

"There are consequences to your crimes against Dracula!"

"I threw diamonds at the strip clubs under the Great Pyramids!"

"Tied the ops to the back of a Trackhawk and dragged 'em around the block for 24-hours."

"Motherfucker looked like a Resident Evil 5 campaign extra after we was done with him!"

"These cops are interrogating me about an ounce of weed, as if I didn't kill an Applebee's hostess two miles away."

"Reach for my neck, you'll get turned into an example!"

"I have seen the Magna Carta, I've seen the Eye of Horus, I was flippin' bricks for Mansa Musa before y'all even became a type-1 civilization!"

"They needed a stealth soldier, so I put my hands on the hibachi hot plate at Benihana and burned my fuckin fingerprints off. They will NOT find me."

"If I had a dollar for every time they said I gave a shit, I'd be broke, 'cause I don't give a shit!"

"How can I be homophobic? I blew his fucking brains out!"

"This Luger will send a Christian to Hell."

"I have no morals or belief system."

"I have no spirituality or anything that gives my life meaning or structure."

"They ask me to shoot, I do it!"

"I have no character."

"I fuck like it's for survival."

"I'm so violent and sick in the head, I can't tell if I want to kill my ops or fuck 'em!"

"Got a ruptured eardrum from having my ear to the streets for so fucking long."

"On a full moon, I'll fuck anything!"

"I'm a street creature."

"The weed will have you in purgatory, screaming for eternity."

"You will relive every key mistake you've ever made in your life, over and over and over again"

"They told me I wouldn't shake the city, so I shook that shit like a crying toddler."

"I'm a product of the gutter."

"The bugs are back."

"The worms in my head won't shut the hell up."

"They're telling me to go absolutely fucking stupid on 'em."

"I don't even need to brandish the nine!"

"Threw the opp into the particle collider, watched his ass get pulled apart into a million pieces."

"Turned his sorry ass into some data."

"I don't wanna kill them, shut up! I don't wanna kill anybody!"

"I ain't gon' lie, I'm kind of feeling myself right now, gang."

"I come from a low frequency environment, and I've only used cash my entire life."

"The only time I ever held a card was when I borrowed my cousin's Bank of America debit card to slice open a funnel cake at the county fair."

"I got the kids ears pierced at two years old and she already knows what Red Bull tastes like!"

"I even wore my nice 8 Ball jean jacket to the last court hearing!"

"I've been fully consumed by hatred, jealousy and lust."

"I can't help but get thrown into a violent trance at the slightest hint of criticism or pushback."

"My impulsive nature causes conflict at any given time."

"I wept for there were no more worlds to conquer."

"I got to where I am today through violence."

"I have no backbone, I'm loyal to whoever pays the most."

"My character is so flawed, the only time I ever stood 10 toes on anything, was on the opp's throat."

Cops wanna detain me for aggressively hitting the claw machine.

I'm trying to explain to him that we are all just atoms so he might as well let me go."

"You can't even imagine what the fuck I've been through."

"Humans will never understand their true abilities."

"Why the fuck did we kill off the Neanderthals? Those idiots could have easily worked construction and doubled our profits."

"The day I go broke will be the day hell freezes over!"

"Get your bitch ass up before I slap the dog shit out of you!"

"I can feel the fungi munching on my brain."

"The only time I feel something is when I look."

"I'm a fucking junkie cannibal, all I wanna do is sip mud and eat my ops."

#rp meme #askbox meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp memes #ask box meme #ask meme #starter sentences #sentence starters #starter prompt #dracula flow #death tw #drugs tw #sex tw #ask to tag #nsft tw

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thaywrites · 4 months ago

Text

ᯓ★ PALAYE ROYALE PROMPTS, a collection of prompts / lyrics taken from palaye royale’s songs from their album, fever dream— part one.

( mentions of possibly triggering subjects such as violence, self-harm, death, drug abuse, and more. )

✦ ETERNAL LIFE

it feels like the worst days of my life, i still drown in paradise.

i didn’t think i could sink this low.

keep me company ’til the end, does anyone else feel this alone?

my best days are my demise.

i feel pretty when i cry, i’m so ugly when i try.

hallucinations taking off, i’m playing god.

i’m holdin’ out my hands and changing everything i hate about myself.

take me far from me — my worst enemy.

i wanna crawl away into eternal life.

✦ NO LOVE IN LA

livin’ in the moonlight, lookin’ at the hills but the hills don’t shine right.

lookin’ at her nose but the shit don’t blow right.

you can change your face but the pain won’t go away.

addicted to the fame but the fame is momentarily reality.

the creeps are crawling up to the doorways, they’re dying to find out what’s inside.

the creeps are always posting their photos to show off what they’re lacking inside.

on a private jet but you can’t afford your rent.

gettin’ high with fake friends ’cause that’s all you got.

i’m late for my own premiere. maybe i should leave, my dear.

it seems to me that the demons of the city wanna keep me here.

there is no such thing as love in LA.

they’re judging me, i’m judging you. we ain’t got nothing else to do.

✦ PUNCHING BAG.

go ahead and mold me. bought me and then sold me.

i’m smiling upside down.

now i’m all used up, ready for my close up.

am i pretty underground?

i can be your barbie, i can say sorry. i can do whatever you want.

go ahead and slap me if it makes you happy.

use and abuse me till i’m gone.

go on, make my day. go get high on my mistakes.

i wake up, i’m so glad i can be your punching bag.

if you want me, come and take me. because i love the way you hate me.

heaven’s what they sold me, but now i miss the old me before i got stuck in hell.

walking down the street, just a public enemy

this is goodbye, you bled me dry.

this is goodnight, my soul has died.

i gave you my all — you built me up to fall.

✦ BROKEN

i’m trying to be the man that you wanted to see.

cause i’m tired and i’m hurt, and i always try to put you first.

but you say i’m not worth it to you — so why are you worth it to me?

you break my heart cause you’re never home, always with your friends.

i try so hard but you’re just playing games.

i needed you tonight but you got high again.

heartbreaks and mistakes with no change. how did we become this way?

the nights are long and the days won’t end.

no more love between us, let’s not pretend.

✦ FEVER DREAM

don’t look around at all the faces abound.

don’t look behind you cause we are stuck underground.

can you see the words i’m up here tryna preach?

no need to cry, you’ll never find me trying to leave.

cause i see that you’re in pain from your pale and lifeless face.

tell me how it’s fair to put a loved one underground.

follow me into this fever dream — we can be anything and everything we want to be.

✦ LINE IT UP

i’m feeling like a stranger cause i’m stuck here. living like my parents is my worst fear.

they had some kids and got lost in the suburbs, working jobs they hated made them suffer.

crashing in these secondhand motel rooms, driving cross the country ’cause i want to.

i can’t slow down because i’m scared to stand still.

i can’t go home because it feels like hell.

and i’d rather die than live my father’s life and pretend like i’m satisfied.

so line it up for me, steal away my dreams.

cause i don’t need no sleeping when i’m diving off the deep end.

why should i come back to earth when all that’s there is tears and hurt?

diving off the edge feels good, i’m finally not misunderstood.

i’d rather die than ever live my life that way.

✦ TOXIC IN YOU

i can take another hit and overdose ’til you make me sick.

you know i don’t love the shame in my brain when i put you inside my veins.

i can’t take it anymore, will i ever even make it out the door?

all this fucking and fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave.

now i’m self-medicating because i love the pain.

i keep feeling like I’m not enough but i don’t run away from you.

knock me down and twist me up until i’m all fucked up but i don’t run from you.

i guess i’ll asphyxiate — let my heart break straight in two and now i’m turning blue.

don’t know what to do. i just love the toxic in you.

my straight jacket holds me tight and says i’m okay.

locked myself in prison and then i threw away the key.

#rp memes #rp prompts #indie rp #ask meme #music starters #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #rp meme #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #palaye royale #fever dream #mine*#prompts*

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 8 months ago

Note

I’ve returned from my sketchbook quest , and here’s a drawing for dauntless-daffodil , who came up with the idea for the spear baby au.

THEM HAS COOKIE!!! ;A; <3 <3 <3 <3 SMOL WITH COOKIE!!!

AWWWWWW~

oh gods looking at that cute little innocent face i can just FEEEEEEL baby spear watching as chaggie and the hotel all stand around them hotly debating What Food Is Even Healthy For A Baby Spear Spawn Child To Be Eating

Charlie: "A cookie??"

Angel Dust: "They don' need cookies, ya useless gays, they need milk!"

Charlie: "We had cookies in the hotel??"

Vaggie: "Why would they need milk? They've got teeth already! Fangs, even!"

Angel Dust: "That ain't how nutrition an' shit WORKS toots!"

Niffty: (shakes jar full of money) "SWEAR JAR!"

Angel Dust: "Fuck. Shit." (hands over three dollars)

Charlie: "Since when are there cookies in the hotel that I don't know know about???"

Cherri: "If they've got fangs and like chewing stuff, maybe they need meat or something?"

Niffty: "OR BLOOD!!!"

Vaggie: "We are NOT-"

Angel Dust: "Ain't no baby under my watch gettin' fed steaks and BLOOD!"

Charlie: "Where did the cookie even COME from?!"

Husk: (coughs)

Charlie: "Husk! You gave them-?"

Husk: "....bar's always got snacks. And they were just. Staring at me."

Angel Dust: "Husky noooooo....!"

Vaggie: "How? I did a double sweep for undeclared cookies just two days ago- you KNOW what Charlie does to your bar if she goes snack hunting in the middle of night and actually finds something. She's like an adorable cookie gremlin."

Charlie: "Heheh!"

Husk: "Yeah well, she's not the only one allowed to like f- fffffffudging cookies. And your kid seems to take after her, so whatever."

Angel Dust: "Baby cat, that's no reason ta- oh for cryin' out loud, now what Vaggot?"

Vaggie: "...what? I didn't say anything."

Charlie: "Vaggieee, you're smiling~"

Vaggie: "Huh?"

Husk: "Like a dumb... dumb."

Niffty: "Beaming! Grinning! AS WIDE AS A SLIT THROAT-"

Cherri: "-fuck fuck fuck, shit shit, damn crap hell- here, take my money and don't fucking talk like THAT in front of the kid either, what the fuck."

Angel Dust: "Sickening."

Niffty: "Thanks!"

Angel Dust: "I meant Darth Vaggie getting all googey eye'd over her an' Charlie chip having a kid."

Charlie: "Oh so you think they're my kid too, huh?"

Angel Dust: "Are ya gonna let Vaggie raise 'em without ya?"

Charlie: "No~pe~!!!"

Angel Dust: "Then congrats on parenthood ta both of ya, it's already going to hell."

Vaggie: "Okay, uh-"

Husk: "You're gonna fffffeathering cry again."

Vaggie: "-no I'm not, I'm just glad the... my kid isn't still crying. Our kid. They, really are pretty happy with the cookie aren't they?"

Charlie: "Of course they are! It's CHOCOLATE CHIP!!"

Angel Dust: "It's not. Baby food."

Charlie: "It is if it's my baby, and they get milk to go with the cookie!"

Angel Dust: "V-gal, stop her! Use ya dang mom veto!!"

Vaggie: "Eh. Charlie was a hellborn kid and she grew up fine. I trust her."

Charlie: "AWww!!!"

Angel Dust: "Unbelievable."

Husk: "Whipped."

Vaggie: "Yeah? My kid didn't even have to say anything to get a cookie out of you, fluff boy."

Cherri: "Uh, guys.... gays...?"

Husk: "What."

Charlie & Vaggie: "What?"

Angel Dust: "Both and speaking, baby."

Cherri: "Where did..... the baby go...?"

Hotel crew: "....."

Place where baby was: (empty except for crumbs)

Spear Baby: (gone)

Vaggie: (wings bristling) "The-"

Charlie: "OUR!"

Vaggie: "Our-"

Demon Charlie: "-BABY!?"

Niffty: "MOTHER OF FUCK." (throws down swear jar) (tries throwing herself onto the broken shards but angel dust and husk grab her)

-meanwhile, elsewhere in the hotel-

Alastor: (walking quickly)

Spear Baby: (crawling after him)

Alastor: "....shoo."

Spear Baby: "Guh!"

Alastor: (nervous sweating) (walks FASTER)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #chaggie spear baby au thing #incorrect quotes #silly stuff #Alastor: here. this is yours i presume #charlie: oh thank f- ALASTOR! WHY IS MY KID HANGING OFF YOUR MICROPHONE BY THEIR TEETH??? THEY'RE NOT A F- FIDLING FISH!!#vaggie: ...are you scared of our kid?#alastor: wha-ha-ha-hy! What a marvelously strange suggestion! Don be absurd~!#vaggie: (holds kid out at them)#spear baby: (starts crying)#alastor: (static hiss) (summons husk in front of him as a living shield)#charlie: vaggie /no/. don't weaponize our child please #vaggie: (giving her the kid) (Grinning) aw babe it was only just a LITTLE bit of weaponizing them...#alastor: for the record- I was NOT scared ha HA!#husk: then why the f- fandangle am /i/ here?#alastor: (tight-lipped smile) (banishes him)#vaggie: (SMIRKS)

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zaebeecee · 4 months ago

Text

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 20/?

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Read on AO3

•••

Well, this took longer than intended. Y’all have no idea how much I love all of you and how grateful I am for your patience.

CW: implied cannibalism, electrocution, more Valentino-typical physical abuse, Stolas talking legal talk

•••

“The fuck you mean, he’s gone?”

“I mean he’s gone.” Niffty shrugged at Cherri, not sure exactly how else she should have phrased it. Cherri and Husk were both staring down at her, clearly riding the emotional high that had been building during their (inevitable) fight, and Niffty thought they both looked like they’d had a rug pulled out from underneath them. It would have been pretty funny if Niffty wasn’t feeling so concerned about Alastor. “I went to his room and he isn’t there.”

“Who’s gone?” a man’s voice called from above them. Niffty looked up to the balcony, where those two married imps were looking down at them with concern.

“Alastor, apparently,” Cherri called back.

“Alastor’s gone?” Arackniss called, from the other side of the lobby.

“For fuck’s sake, yes, Alastor is not in the building!” Husk said in a loud voice that was as close as he ever got to yelling. Niffty watched both Millie and Moxxie look back behind them as Charlie, way down the second floor hallway, yelled something muffled that Niffty couldn’t understand (but was probably a question asking if Alastor was gone).

Everyone gathered in the bar area, Charlie descending the stairs two at a time in a little leaping run that was one of the few goat-like quirks she ever showed. Once she reached the bar, Charlie held her hands out, palms down, and looked around at all of them. “What happened?”

Immediately, Cherri and Husk looked at Niffty, and everyone followed their lead. She blinked a couple of times, not used to having this level of undivided attention from people. “…uhm. Well, I— Cherri said I should keep an eye on Alastor,” she said, pointing at the other sinner.

“Yeah, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid!” Cherri said, before turning to the princess. “Blitzø and Vaggie went to take Angie’s contract to that prince. I thought it would be a good idea to make sure Alastor didn’t fuck anything up.”

“He wouldn’t—” Charlie began, almost like a reflex, before she amended, “We don’t know he’s… doing anything he shouldn’t be doing. He could be… y’know…” She trailed off under the weight of Husk’s withering stare, clearing her throat instead. “Niffty, how do you know he’s gone? Did you see him leave?”

“No,” Niffty said. “But I know he isn’t here.” She looked pointedly at Husk, who abruptly glanced away from her. “Right?”

“…” Husk closed his eyes, sighing. “…she’s right.”

Charlie looked between the two of them, her expression torn. “…okay. Okay, I’ll trust the two of you. So… if he isn’t here, where is he?”

“He’s probably goin’ to VoxTek,” Arackniss said from his perch on the corner of the bar.

Almost immediately, Charlie did a double-take, like she hadn’t even realized he was there. “…what?”

Arackniss frowned at her, folding two of his arms on his bent knees (how he was able to make crouching in a suit look badass, Niffty couldn’t understand). “When I was gettin’ Tony’s contract outta Valentino’s office, Valentino came in, mutterin’ some shit about Alastor. I dunno what he was doin’, but he got somethin’ outta his desk and made some kinda remark about darin’ the Radio Demon to ignore him now. I figure he did somethin’ to bait the guy into goin’ out there.”

Cherri looked at him. “So the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t think none of us are in a position to stop an angry overlord from pickin’ a fight with three other overlords, exceptin’ the princess here,” Arackniss allowed, nodding towards Charlie.

“That would… not be a good idea,” Charlie said, twisting her fingers together nervously. “Plus, I’m not actually allowed to interfere with overlord disputes until they start getting out of hand. Alastor has every right to fight the Vees if that’s what he wants to do, it’s how the overlord system works.”

“So we can’t do anything?” Niffty asked, staring up at Charlie and feeling the distress mounting inside her at the idea of not being able to help Alastor.

Almost immediately, Charlie knelt down and placed her hands on Niffty’s shoulders. “Hey hey hey,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s okay, Niffty, I promise we’ll think of something.”

“We need t’ wait for Blitzø t’ get back,” Millie said, looking at Moxxie. “It… it won’t take that long for Prince Stolas t’ find a loophole, will it?”

“If there is a loophole,” Moxxie said, a little pessimistically, before he added, “Of course, if Valentino wrote it himself, I don’t think that will be a problem. He seems pretty…”

“Stupid?” Arackniss supplied dryly.

“Yeah, basically.”

“If he got one of the other two to write it for him, it’ll be a bigger problem,” Husk said. “But Valentino’s vain and an idiot, I wouldn’t be surprised if his pride didn’t let him.”

Niffty sniffled, rubbing her hand underneath her nose. Read the room, Noriko. “What do we do if Prince Stolas doesn’t find anything?”

“Then we’ll figure something else out,” Charlie promised. “We aren’t just going to leave Alastor and Angel on their own. Okay?”

Niffty didn’t feel any better, but she nodded anyway. “…okay.”

As they all split off to discuss whatever their next moves were, Husk looked down at her, his frown softer than it had been. “…hey, Niff. Wanna reorganize the bar supplies?”

Niffty stared up at him, blinking. “…you never let me behind the bar.”

“Yeah, for good reason.” When he stopped there and didn’t withdraw the question, Niffty nodded hesitantly, and he waved her back. “Okay. Come on, before I change my mind.”

Niffty almost smiled as she scampered back behind the bar, ready to take Husk’s absolutely nonsensical organizational system and make it reasonable. It wasn’t a perfect distraction, but it was something, at least. And at this point, she was grateful for anything.

•••

Hell had an extremely complicated caste system, when you tried to figure out how power was distributed and what territories and domains in this place actually were. Back when Vaggie had been an exorcist, learning the intricacies of Hell’s hierarchy, she had it emphasized to her time and again that no one besides sinners were to be harmed. Because of this, she had been given only cursory information on the Hellborn that dwelt outside of the Pride ring; she knew the names of the Princes and their domains, of course, as well as what the Goetia were and the names of a few key members of their nobility. Outside of that, she had been taught very little, and as her time in Hell had been mostly devoted to doing what she could to keep Charlie out of trouble, she felt no more prepared for meeting a Goetian prince than she would have when she first arrived in this place.

Prince Stolas, Vaggie knew, was the only notable child of King Paimon and kept watch over the movements of stars and planets as his domain. It was a prophetic position, some said, or at least as close to prophetic as anything could possibly be; that kind of power made Vaggie nervous.

Blitzø didn’t seem to have that same problem.

“How do you know a Goetian prince again?”

“It’s a long fucking story,” Blitzø said unhelpfully, his eyes on the high stone wall that surrounded the property of the manor house that sat a short distance outside of Pentagram City.

“But he’s a friend of yours,” Vaggie guessed, one eyebrow raised as she watched the imp begin scaling the wall.

Blitzø made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a grunt of effort. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Uh-huh. Why aren’t we going through the gate?”

“Because,” Blitzø said, grabbing onto the top of the wall, “I am an imp, you are a nobody, and we are not supposed to be trespassing on Goetian royal grounds in the middle of the night. Besides, he’s in the middle of a divorce and his harpy of a wife might be keeping tabs on the building and I don’t wanna deal with the bullshit drama that’d follow if that’s the case.” He hauled himself up, crouching on the stone. “It’s fine, this is how I alw—shit…!” The last word came out as a squeak as he lost his balance, toppled over the wall, and landed in what sounded like some plants.

Vaggie sighed, then crouched and leaped up, landing on the top of the wall. She looked down at where Blitzø was gracelessly detangling himself from a plant that looked suspiciously like it was either trying to cuddle him or eat him. “Need help?”

“I am a very capable young woman.”

“Wonderful.” She jumped down, landing silently on the grass and waiting for him to roll out of the foliage. While he uttered a long string of curses, most of which Vaggie had never heard before, she examined the house. It was so… weird, how much even Hellborn architecture looked like shit that she could have easily seen in life. Demon or not, even she could tell this guy was absolutely loaded.

But I guess it wouldn’t be Hell if it didn’t have rich people.

Blitzø stumbled up next to her, brushing soil off of his coat. “Okay, all good. See that balcony?” he asked, pointing up and drawing her eye to a large stone platform jutting out of the wall, beyond which she could see two open doors that led into a dark room.

“…we’re not breaking into his bedroom, are we?” Vaggie asked as they darted across the lawn as quietly as they could.

“No, of course not,” Blitzø said, taking hold of the trellis and grinning at her. “The door’s open, we’re just walking in.”

Vaggie resisted the urge to groan as the imp began scaling the trellis with impressive speed. “I see why your employees always seem so pissed at you,” she hissed before she began following him up.

The bedroom beyond the balcony, while dark, looked… grand, but kind of gloomy. Vaggie thought it looked like a place you’d hole yourself up in during a bout of depression, naturally just making the depression worse. Blitzø crossed the balcony to the open doors, leaning in and knocking on the wood door frame a couple of times. “Stolas,” he hissed, knocking again. “Hey. Stols. Are you awake?”

Stols? Vaggie thought with a frown. He’s given a Goetian prince a nickname but claims they’re not friends?

From the bed, she heard a quiet groan, followed by a soft muttering, and finally a shriek as four glowing red eyes opened. “Oh my stars!!”

“Whoa!” Blitzø came a couple of steps into the room, holding his hands out. “Whoa, whoa, chill, Stolas, it’s just me!”

“Bl… Blitzy…?” a smooth and somewhat foppish tenor asked curiously, almost disbelievingly. Blitzy?? The lamps flared to life at once, and Vaggie winced, shielding her eye from the sudden light. When she opened it again, she saw an extremely tall, owl-like demon tying a silk robe closed and smoothing down the feathers on top of his head. “Whatever are you doing here? It… it isn’t—”

“It isn’t about that,” Blitzø said before Vaggie learned whatever ‘it’ was. “…oh, right. Stolas, this is Vaggie, Princess Charlie’s girlfriend or whatever.”

“Oh!” Stolas was now staring at her, his eyes wide. “I— I see— hello,” he said, brimming with awkwardness. Vaggie just nodded, feeling that awkwardness herself. “So… um… if it— if it isn’t…” He cleared his throat, then straightened himself into what seemed an attempt at a more dignified posture, the effect somewhat ruined by his robe and still-ruffled feathers. “What is it, then? It must be important, if you would come out here in the middle of the night.”

There was a lot hiding in that sentence, but Vaggie could only feel the weight of the implications; she didn’t understand the tension in the room, or why Blitzø was showing the first signs of caution that she had seen from him. His head was tilted down just slightly, though he maintained eye contact, and his tail sharply lashed behind him in quick and agitated, but brief, movements. “I need to ask you to… do something for me,” Blitzø said, after what sounded like a lot of thought.

“Of course,” Stolas said, surprise flickering across his face for a moment.

“You’re good with contracts, right?” Blitzø asked. “Fizz told me you helped Ozzie out when he had that kidnapping incident.”

Stolas stared at him for a long moment, and Vaggie thought he looked surprised… or, perhaps, like he was processing something. “…I… did provide assistance to Lord Asmodeus, yes. You require help with a contract?”

Blitzø didn’t address the obvious question—namely, why are you referring to the Prince of Lust so casually—and instead pulled out Angel’s contract from inside his coat. “I need to know if there’s a loophole in this.”

Stolas took it carefully, but he didn’t open it right away. Instead, he said, “…both of you, come with me.” He then turned, walking to the door and out of the room without bothering to make sure they were following.

Vaggie caught the way Blitzø rolled his eyes, a movement so quick she wasn’t even sure he was aware of doing it, as they both followed the Goetian prince out the door and down the hallway. The whole place felt so hollow and cold, lacking a sense of warmth that Vaggie believed was the most important thing to making a place a home. It didn’t help that all of the portraits had been covered with white cloths, as well as what looked like statuary and other decor.

Blitzø seemed to notice that, as well, and it appeared to be unusual enough for him to comment on it. “…what’s up with the fabric?”

“Hm? Oh,” Stolas said, his voice flippant and disinterested. “The household is relocating to another building.”

“…you’re moving?” Blitzø asked, surprised.

“I suppose you could call it that,” Stolas said. “This place is, after all, still technically the property of my father. With Stella gone, there is no one to object, and since Via has reached her own age of majority, it shouldn’t interfere with her affairs either.”

“…ah,” Blitzø said, like he wasn’t sure what else to say. He did, however, whisper to Vaggie, “I don’t blame him, Paimon’s a dick.” Vaggie bit down on her tongue to stifle a surprised snort of amusement, but Stolas didn’t appear to be listening anyway.

They followed him through a set of double doors and into something like a library with a planetarium model set into a recess in the ceiling, hanging low enough to dominate the upper half of the room’s visual real estate. Stolas went to the desk and sat, opening up the contract and beginning to give it a cursory once-over. It wasn’t long before he spoke again. “…ah, Blitzy, darling?”

“Mm,” Blitzø answered, his back to them as he looked around the room.

“Would you care to tell me why, precisely, it is that you are in possession of Angel Dust’s soul contract with the Vees?”

“Long story,” Blitzø said. “And I’ll explain when I have more time, but long story short, I promised the Radio Demon that I’d get you to look at it for some kind of loophole in exchange for him not eating my entrails while alive.”

Stolas opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he just stared at Blitzø’s back. When the imp didn’t continue, Vaggie spoke, drawing the prince’s attention. “Angel’s been… kidnapped isn’t really the right word,” she said. “But he’s being held at VoxTek, and that’s a really big problem for Alastor for reasons I don’t feel prepared to go into. Plus, he’s… y’know. He’s our friend. We were hoping that you might be able to find a way to get his contract… broken, or invalidated, or something so that Valentino can’t force him to stay there anymore.”

Stolas’s expression softened a little. “…I see.” He turned to the contract again, frowning faintly. “This contract is quite old. Decades. That’s… highly unusual, for a sinner soul contract.”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “…is it?” she asked. “I thought making a contract for your soul was usually permanent.”

“If a living human makes a deal with one of the less scrupled Hellborn, that isn’t uncommon,” Stolas said. “But all overlords in Pentagram City hold soul contracts. Typically, they’re comparable to indentured service; a sinner contracts their soul to an overlord in exchange for a benefit for the duration of the contract, and in exchange, the overlord becomes the sinner’s… employer, you could say. Normally, the overlord will either set a length of time or a monetary value, and the contract will be over when either the allotted time has passed or the sinner has repaid the set value.”

Vaggie frowned. “…what does Angel’s contract say?”

“Well… according to this, the value of his soul is… open for reevaluation,” Stolas said. “Which suggests that the price could be modified an indefinite number of times to prevent the contract from ending.”

Vaggie’s frown deepened. “…that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s quite an unfair contingency,” Stolas agreed. He then sighed. “You two should make yourselves comfortable. You may look at any of the books I have if you would like, but it might take me a while to locate a weak point in this text.”

“Thank you,” Vaggie said, turning away and pulling out her phone. She fired off a quick text to Charlie, letting her know that Stolas was looking for a loophole, and then wandered over to the bookshelf for want of something else to do.

It had already been a long night, and it didn’t look like it would be over any time soon.

•••

When the alarm first flared to life, Angel was asleep.

It wasn’t a sound sleep by any means. It wasn’t restful, and it certainly wasn’t peaceful. How he had managed to drift off, he wasn’t precisely sure, but his dreams were strange and obtuse and filled with odd symbolism that left him with no specific memories, only an aching sense of cold dread as he was jarred into wakefulness. For a long moment, he had no idea where he was; his first thought was his own bed, with some bizarre siren going off somewhere in the hotel, and his second thought was that he was in— someone else’s.

But the first one didn’t feel right, and even in his hazy state, he knew the second was no longer possible.

The vague scent of smoke and static burn in the air, coupled with the electric blue accent lighting cutting through the darkness, immediately set Angel right. I’m in VoxTek. But he had known that, of course, because that was where he was always going to be now. At least he had been left to his slumber on the couch, a small mercy that he was more than willing to embrace at this point.

The alarm blared again, and Angel looked up, finally fully registering what it meant; something was attacking the building. “What the fuck…?” Far below, he heard the sounds of breaking glass and screaming, and it was getting steadily closer, like whatever was happening was climbing throughout the station.

Angel didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t stay put or go seek somewhere safe, but he vaulted off the couch and bolted from the room in nothing but the sweater he had been allowed to stave off the chill. The sounds were still below him, so he headed for the stairwell, jumping down a flight at a time until it sounded close enough that he headed through the doors into the hall and down towards one of the filming studios. Angel shoved his way inside and into the huge, darkened room, dodging equipment until he reached the center and looking around quickly.

Apparently, he had come into the main newsroom, Katie Killjoy’s very particular set preferences still in place from the filming likely done earlier that evening. There was no one there now, of course, but the room was set up for the next morning, cameras still in place and sound equipment ready to be fired up. But there was nothing else, no sign of anything that was causing that much noise and panic throughout the building. It was so close, though, so Angel knew it couldn’t be far. He saw the doors on the other side of the studio, and had just started moving when he heard a loud and heavy thud against the wall.

Angel gasped, staggering backwards as whatever it was crashed against the wall again, then again, cracks appearing and plaster raining down until the entire thing broke. Angel watched a large, spindly hand reach out and grab the broken edge of the wall, sharp claws digging gouges as the hand tightened its grip and leveraged the rest of the body inside.

It was something Angel had only seen once, when Mimzy had led her loan sharks to the hotel; but back then, Alastor had only grown as large as he felt he needed to, and he had been somewhat jubilant in his violence. But the figure that clawed its way into the studio was much larger, and so, so very angry.

“…Alastor…” Angel whispered, watching as the monstrous and savage form of the Radio Demon dragged itself out of the wall and swept a camera out of its way with an impatient hand. If he stood up to his full height, his antlers would have dug into the studio’s ceiling, said antlers grown sharp and tangled like an angry bramble plant. Blood dripped from his teeth and down his chin, staining his claws and spattered all over his face and coat. His eyes looked at once sharp and completely unfocused, radio dials twitching and flicking madly against the deep black of his sclera. Angel knew that Alastor could have killed him without a thought, but that wasn’t on his mind as he ran forward. “Alastor!!”

Instantly, that giant and terrifying face swiveled on a too-flexible neck to stare at him, eyes unblinking and furious grin stretched wide enough to show rows of brilliant green stitching at the corners. He didn’t immediately strike, however, dropping onto his hands and knees as Angel approached. An animalistic noise, something between a growl and a hiss, was the only sound he made as he lowered his head to stare at the spider demon.

If Angel was sane, he would have run. Alastor was one of the most dangerous entities in the entire Pride ring, an overlord infamous for the simple rumor of devouring other overlords. But Angel knew he couldn’t have possibly been sane, because he didn’t stop until he collapsed onto his own knees right in front of the Radio Demon, breathing hard from exertion and the still-present panic waking up to the blaring alarm had caused. Alastor’s growl was a low rumble deep in his chest that felt like it shook the studio floor, and Angel slowly looked up, staring into those terrifying eyes as their dials shivered in preparation to start spinning again.

Angel was good at not letting himself think, and that was what he did as he raised two of his hands and cupped Alastor’s monstrous face as best he could. “Alastor,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. The Radio Demon’s skin felt oddly cold to the touch. “You weren’t supposed to come here.”

Alastor didn’t speak. Angel wasn’t positive he even could in his current state. His only answer was another growl, but even as the sound rumbled through the studio… slowly, gently, he leaned his head into Angel’s hand. His breath was labored and smelled like he might have eaten half of the employees downstairs, but Angel couldn’t make himself care. Tears fell freely as he stroked Alastor’s cheek, the growl turning into something closer to a purr.

Angel wanted to ask Alastor what the fuck he was doing there, what he was planning, what he was thinking, but he didn’t get the chance. Before he could open his mouth, he felt something familiar and hot and sharp around his throat just before his body was violently yanked backwards with a jerk hard enough to lift him entirely off the ground before he hit the concrete and began sliding across it as he was dragged. Immediately, the very little calm Alastor had found was gone, and he screamed, rearing up onto his feet again and flexing his claws.

Angel smelled Valentino before he felt him, the overlord seizing his hair and yanking him upwards without releasing his chain. “That worked better than I could have hoped,” Valentino said quietly, and he sounded much too smug and way too calm for someone who had the full attention of a furious Radio Demon. But Valentino didn’t run. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself.

Alastor began charging across the studio, knocking cameras and lights out of his way, sparks flying through the dark and casting brief, deep shadows across his face. Angel gasped sharply as Alastor reached out towards them, but he stopped, another scream escaping him… but this one was a shriek of pain. Beneath it, Angel heard the loud buzz of electricity and the hiss of burning flesh, and he saw flashes of electric blue light backlighting the Radio Demon in enormous flickering bursts. So strong was the surge that the sounds of electric thrumming throughout the building, always present at VoxTek, cut out with a dying whir as the entire building lost power. Angel screamed as best he could with the shackle still limiting his air intake, but he couldn’t do more than struggle against Valentino’s hold as Alastor collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud and the occasional bright spark of lingering static. Slowly, he began shrinking again, his body resuming its usual size and shape without his consciousness to maintain his shift. The emergency lights along the floors flickered and then came to life, casting their eerie blue glow across the scattered and ruined film equipment.

“Well,” Valentino said into the sudden empty silence, one that felt heavy and oppressive with the lack of any electronic noises at all around them. “That was certainly exciting.”

Footsteps echoed off the studio walls, and Angel tore his eyes from Alastor’s unresponsive form to the only source of illumination in the entire room besides the emergency lights. Vox’s face looked… passive, but annoyed, a sure sign that he was containing unbridled rage while in a public part of the building out of sheer force of habit. Behind him, Angel heard a soft and irritated murmur before a cell phone flashlight came on, Velvette following along behind him and casting around to examine the damage. “Good job on that, boys,” she observed. “So chuffed you decided to piss off the Radio Demon, we had far too much of the building intact for my liking.”

Vox didn’t look at her; his focus seemed split entirely between Alastor and Valentino. Between the glow from his face and from the floor lights, Angel could make out his arm as he reached up and flexed his hand, thick and heavy electrical cables pulling free from Alastor’s body with a sharp jerk that sent blood arcing through the air in their wake. Angel realized that must have been how Vox knocked him out; Alastor had been so enraged he hadn’t even noticed that Vox was there until the massive black cords had buried themselves into his flesh to deliver VoxTek’s entire electrical supply straight into him.

“Val,” Vox said, his voice clearly struggling to maintain its control. “What. The fuck. Did you do?”

Valentino didn’t seem bothered by Vox’s obvious rage. He released Angel’s hair, but not his chain, and the spider collapsed to the floor at Valentino’s feet as that chain kept him anchored in place. “Exactly what you wouldn’t,” he said easily. “And it worked, didn’t it? Something finally encouraged Alastor to enter VoxTek.”

Vox’s facial graphics glitched briefly as his lip curled. “We wanted him to come here,” he said, before he gestured around sharply with one thrown out hand. “We didn’t want him fucking destroying everything! We’re lucky the goddamn building didn’t collapse on top of us, Val!”

“You got what you wanted,” Valentino said with an odd air of coldness that Angel wasn’t used to hearing him use with Vox. “And look, he’s incapacitated and my pet is in one piece. Looks like we both win, doesn’t it?”

Vox looked at him, his left eye twitching a couple of times. “…you cannot comprehend how badly I want to kill you right now.”

“But you won’t,” Valentino said, yanking Angel back to his feet. “You never do.”

“Wait,” Angel pleaded, as Valentino grabbed him by the upper arm. “What are you going to do to him?!”

Vox looked at Angel as though only just registering his presence. “That isn’t your concern.”

“Fuck you!” Angel yelled, yanking against Valentino’s grip ineffectually. “I won’t let you hurt him!!”

Vox actually smirked. “I don’t think either of you are in any condition to dictate anything.”

“Alastor!!”

Valentino’s grip tightened and he pulled, throwing Angel across the room away from Alastor. He landed on his back with a sharp cry, cracking one eye open and shoving himself backwards as Valentino advanced on him. “I have been so incredibly lenient with you, amorcito,” he snarled. “But it seems you didn’t learn anything from your last punishment. I think it’s time to rectify that.”

Valentino struck him across the face so hard his lip split and his vision blurred, Angel hitting the concrete floor again. He could just see Vox using cables to lift Alastor’s body from the floor before Valentino filled his vision again, grabbing him and hauling him up, and Angel wondered if he was ever going to see Alastor again.

He wondered if he was going to see anything at all after Valentino was done with him.

•••

Vaggie had a very bad feeling.

When she had been alive, she’d tried to chalk up those bad feelings to simple Catholicism-induced superstition, always treating them like nothing even when she was well aware that ignoring those feelings always led to something terrible happening. Since dying, however, she had learned that those feelings… they weren’t something to ignore.

She had them in Hell not infrequently, of course, since… well. It was Hell. But she still knew that, even in a place like this, she couldn’t just ignore it.

Concentrating on Stolas’s book collection, fascinating as it was, proved more and more impossible as time crawled on. Vaggie turned to pacing and checking her phone at a rate of roughly twice per minute, knowing that wouldn’t help anything or make things go faster but unable to stop herself. She felt like she was about to go insane when Stolas’s voice finally broke the silence. “Miss Vaggie, was it?”

Vaggie’s head shot up and she pivoted on her heel, approaching the desk. “Yeah. Yes,” she corrected, reminding herself that she needed to be polite here no matter how impatient she was feeling.

Stolas didn’t look at her, his eyes still on the contract. “You said Angel Dust is a friend of yours, so I trust you know him quite well. You are a resident at the Hazbin Hotel, correct?” Vaggie made an affirmative noise. “And I remember hearing that Angel Dust, too, moved into that place. Your… resident celebrity.”

“Yeah,” Vaggie said with a frown. “Why?”

“How long has he lived there?”

“I… guess about… nine months, now?” Vaggie guessed. The change in the extermination schedule had thrown off everyone’s perception of time.

“And how long has it been since he was taken back to VoxTek?” Stolas asked.

“Less than two days.”

Stolas nodded, then turned the contract, pointing to part of it… particularly a word that Vaggie didn’t know. “Much of this contract contains some extremely archaic language,” Stolas said. “It seems as though, in a bid to make it as iron-clad as possible, Valentino pulled from old Goetian tradition rather than simply relying on sinner terminology.”

“What does that mean?” Vaggie asked, wishing (not for the first time) that she hadn’t dropped out of high school to work when she was a teenager.

“It means that this contract is non-standard, but this clause here is the relevant portion,” Stolas said. “The intention of this clause is that the one who holds Angel Dust’s soul contract, or Valentino himself, is the only one who can set the value of his soul. It also grants him sole right to change that value whenever he wishes. But the phrasing…” Stolas tapped the word Vaggie didn’t recognize. “This word here, aheydrun, doesn’t have a modern Hellish direct translation, but the closest approximation is ‘keeper’. However, an aheydrun is one who holds and controls a residence; its use in contracts is that it granted power, ultimately, to the master of the house in question. During the time Angel Dust lived at VoxTek, provided he resided within Valentino’s quarters, that would make Valentino the aheydrun as specified by the contract.”

Vaggie stared at him. “…but Angel is at VoxTek again.”

Stolas shook his head. “Irrelevant,” he said. “According to Goetian legal tradition, once the contracted soul has lived under a different master of the house for a period of seven black moons, the contracted power of aheydrun passes to them.”

Blitzø, who apparently had snuck up when Vaggie wasn’t looking, put his chin on Stolas’s desk. “What’s that mean in one dollar words, Stolas?”

“A black moon is another phrase for a new moon, which happens once per lunar cycle,” Stolas said. “It means that, per Angel Dust’s contract, if he has lived in the Hazbin Hotel for seven months or more, the power to determine the value of his soul has already passed from Valentino to Charlotte Morningstar. The fact that he’s no longer at the hotel won’t affect this for another seven months.”

Vaggie stared at him. “…but… but if that were true, wouldn’t… wouldn’t it already be broken? The contract, I mean.”

“If Princess Charlotte has not reevaluated his soul, no, it will have remained at whatever Valentino’s last determination was.”

Vaggie looked from Stolas to the contract. “…you mean… if Charlie says that the worth of Angel’s soul is lower than the amount of money he’s made for VoxTek through his movies…”

“The contract will end immediately.”

“…I have to go,” Vaggie said. “Can I—”

“Of course,” Stolas said, offering the contract out to her.

Vaggie reached out, but didn’t take it immediately, instead clasping Stolas’s hand in both of hers the way she had seen Charlie do to other people before. “Thank you so much,” she said to the surprised Goetia. “I have no idea how Charlie’s going to want to repay you for this, but she will. Thank you.”

“Oh, she doesn’t…!” Stolas began, but Vaggie wasn’t listening, taking the contract and bolting out of the room. She heard Blitzø yell something after her, but didn’t slow down, taking the same path back the way they had come.

She ran out onto the balcony just as Blitzø caught up with her. “Fuck, you are fast!” he complained.

“That’s nothing compared to what you’re about to see.” She looked at him. “I have to move quickly. You coming?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Then get on my back.”

“What—”

“Now, Blitzø, I don’t have time!”

The imp scrambled up onto her back; he wasn’t all that much shorter than her, being as tall as he was, but he was so light she barely felt it. “Okay, now what?”

“Now, we move,” Vaggie said. She crouched, and she barely registered Blitzø’s cry of surprise as her wings unfurled from her back and she ran for the balcony railing. She jumped, landed briefly on the stone, and launched herself up into the air.

Don’t do anything else stupid, Alastor, she thought. It isn’t just Angel. I’m doing this for you, too.

Not that she would ever say any of that to either, of course. Some lines just didn’t need crossing.

•••

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