Work Text:
The box arrived early in the morning. This time it was a plain brown box with clear tape sealing it shut. The clear plastic clung to each side of the box desperately holding it together. Aside from the frantic look of the outside, there was no identification, no name, no return address - the same as always.
The first time you received a package like this was a month after you moved into your new apartment. The doorbell had rung at exactly 6am. In your drowsy state, you opened the door and picked up the orange gift bag without giving it much thought. You opened the bag, inside it sat an apple shaped ceramic mug.
When you took out the mug from the bag, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. The sleepiness that had coated your entire body had been wiped out, replaced by an uneasy feeling. You felt like throwing the mug against the wall; maybe scream while taking a hammer to it and shattering it into a million pieces.
This was a cruel joke. You wanted to pick up the phone and ring Zayne - he was the only other person who knew what apples represented to you - to scream at him until your throat ached. Deep inside, however, you knew Zayne would never be this cruel. He was reserved, some might even think of him as cold, but he was never unkind.
You kept the red lump of ceramic on your kitchen counter. You stared at it until the alarm on your phone went off signaling the start of your morning routine.
It was only when you stepped outside that you noticed your neighbor and her babygirl. She had chubby cheeks, a full head of dark thick hair styled in two pigtails. The clips that decorated her hair were apple themed and the small bag at her hips was a honeycrisp apple with a smiling face on it. Perhaps the mug was meant for her.
But how could you explain everything that came afterwards?
The packages had started out as a monthly occurrence. Then after two months, they came biweekly. Then three times a month. Now every week, on Saturday morning at 6am, the bell rings, the man with the eerily warm eyes looks into the camera, waves at you while smiling. Even though he always wears a mask that covers the lower half of his face, you can tell he is smiling by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. Those treacherous eyes, they give you a false sense of security all the while he enters your home while you are not there. He watches you so intensely, you can feel his stare even when you’re in the middle of large crowds. He pats the camera almost as if he’s petting your head then leaves.
Just like that! As if he wasn’t even there, as if he didn’t exist at all. It pisses you off how he can just disappear physically yet you feel him all around you. It is a suffocating existence.
The box sits ominously on your porch. You try to haul it inside, but it is heavier than normal. The box is emanating a weird smell - it is not entirely unpleasant yet it tickles your nose in the wrong way. You grimace as you place the box close to your chest. He is usually very careful with your gifts. This one feels different, though. You can’t tell what you did this time to make him upset.
You place the box down on your kitchen counter. You go looking for the knife to rip open the package. He doesn’t like it when you ignore him. You are interrupted, however, by your phone ringing. You stop your search for the knife choosing to instead head to your room where the phone sits charging on the nightstand.
Your phone’s screen blinds you for a moment. It’s the cute guy from the dating app Tara made you download. You answer quickly before the call can drop.
“Hey, sweet girl,” you’ve only talked on the phone once so you aren’t used to hearing his voice, but it sends shivers down your spine regardless.
“Hi,” you give your voice a breathless effect. You try to sound effortlessly sensual for him.
“We still on for tonight, right?”
“YEs,” your voice cracks which makes him chuckle. The two of you sit on the phone without speaking for a minute.
“Okay, sweetie, I’ll see you tonight,” he goes to hang up.
“Wait!” you say too quickly. “Don’t hang up yet.”
“Okay,” he laughs softly. The two of you stay talking a bit more. It is awkward at first, but you gradually become more accepting of each other’s presence.
The weird package sits forgotten at the center of your counter.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
You slam your front door shut with a frown. You check your phone for the millionth time. No new notifications. He stood you up. The motherfucker stood you up! After you two talked for three hours this morning. He helped you pick out your outfit - a short skin tight black dress that rides up your thick thighs too easily for comfort. It is probably two sizes too small, but it makes your breast look amazing. He even picked out a fragrance from your collection - juicy apple with a sugary base note. You waisted good perfume for this date and he didn’t even show up.
The restaurant could only let you hold the table for 30 minutes without ordering food. You gave up after the third phone call went unanswered. You can never show your face at the Italian restaurant by your work place ever again. They will all know you as the idiot woman who got stood up by a blonde haired man.
You crouch in front of your door, pressing the top of your head to the wooden frame. You feel your throat tighten around an invisible lump. You squeeze your eyes shut refusing to cry for a white boy, but god damn does the sensation in your throat worsen.
One minute.
You will allow yourself one minute of crying and wallowing in despair for a stupid date with a mediocre stand in for someone you miss more than anything else in this world. You drop your phone as you sob violently into the door.
Forty more seconds.
The Andromeda trapped behind long black lashes flashes in your memory. Pale pink lips that you would always tease about being chapped before smearing your glossy lips all over them appear next. You pound your fist on the door.
Twenty seconds left.
“Any guy who makes you cry is not worth it, pipsqueak. Isn’t that what I’ve always told you?” the voice in your head is so clear. You wish you could trap it and weave it into your soul to become whole again.
With ten seconds left, you stand up. You slap yourself before wiping your black stained tears away. With five seconds left, you fix your dress that had risen to your hips. And with zero seconds remaining, you slip off your heeled boots. You pretend nothing happened. You smile at the door brightly because the last minute wasn’t real.
As you turn around to focus on your surroundings, the hairs on your arms raise up in alarm. The once unopened package sits directly in the middle of your living room. Your fluffy rug, which had once lain on the living room floor underneath the glass coffee table, was nowhere to be seen. The light from your kitchen illuminates the entry of your home slightly. The soft yellow light catches on the thick dark liquid dripping from underneath the box. A gasp threatens to make its way out of your mouth. You cover your mouth to stifle the scream of horror you want to let out. Your body starts to tremble as you start to walk towards the box.
Before you reach the bleeding box, there is a loud noise coming from your kitchen. A familiar humming song engulfs the cracks and crevices of your home. Your heart pounds in your chest; it feels like it is trying to escape, to lead you to the song of your childhood, of your safe-haven. Your feet trip over themselves trying to get over to the kitchen as fast as they can carry you. You crash against the wall sending the picture frames hanging from it to plummet to the floor.
“You’re finally here,” the voice in your head is coming from the shadow in the kitchen. The shadow is advancing towards you. “Welcome home, baby sister.”
He’s so clear to you now. His features are sharp, they no longer have that youthful glow he had when you last saw him. His hair falls softly over his forehead some strands sticking to the sweat of his skin. His lips are as you remember them - pink, the bottom one fuller than that top with its defined cupids bow. His face has splatters of blood all over it yet you can’t seem to care because he is here. Caleb is in front of you.
Alive.
Your breath hitches and you forget how to speak. Your insides tremble.
Alive. Caleb is alive.
You slap him. The echo reverberates in your head, your heart, your very soul. Your finger prints appear immediately on his pale skin. You gasp at your own actions. Caleb bites his lower lip as he side eyes you, a smile taking over his expression.
“I will let that one slide, pips,” his voice is husky and chaos glimmers in his eyes. You can’t help but feel dread take over your body.
Without much though, you start to run away from him. Your heart is pounding in your chest wildly. You make it to your glass coffee table before you feel the crushing gravity of his evol slamming you to your knees. You fall onto your chest trying with all your might to crawl away from the ghost in your kitchen. His foot steps are light behind you. Your sight becomes blurry because of the heavy gravity weighing down on you. You gasp in short breathes because that is all that he allows.
“Are you good now? Did you get it out of your system?” he crouches down next to you, his black slacks stretch across his thick muscled thighs. You whimper as he takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.
The blue and red tendrils of his power loosen around you. You gasp for hair, waves of exhaustion crash into you vapidly. You start crying at the sight of Caleb. He smiles warmly at you as his hand moves to the top of your head. He pets you lovingly. Your body goes limp from exhaustion.
Caleb shifts your body so you are lying on your back. Instead of helping you, he towers over you. His evol is crushing you again, you can only wiggle your fingers. He settles himself between your legs, one of his knees touching your cunt. The thin fabric of your underwear being your only protection from him. Caleb takes one of your hands and brings it up to him mouth. He kisses it gently while his other hand wraps around your throat. He kisses the inside of your palm before gently biting it. He squeezes the sides of your neck.
“I missed you, meimei. So very much,” Caleb whispers into the dark of your living room. The blood from the coffee table starts pooling next to you, ruining your dress. “I was so content to watch you… care for you from afar, but then you…”
He glares at you. A moment of sadness is shared between the two of you.
“You had to go and ignore the rules of our game,” he pins your hand over your head. Caleb lowers himself to your neck as the hand that was wrapped around it a second ago explores your chest. He pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breast. He cups your breast gently, the warmth of you settling on his palm. “Did you even miss me, baby sister, or did you celebrate your newly found freedom from me?”
A violent sob rips from your throat. Caleb kisses your neck. You feel his hot tongue dragging from the base of your neck to your chin. He squeezes your boob harshly, biting down on your neck. You moan when he adds pressure to the bite. Pleasure and pain mix as his teeth break the thick skin of your throat. His tongue laps at the flowing blood coming out of you.
“It hurts,” you whimper, unable to move your body. “I’m aching, gege.”
He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of bites and kisses down to your breast. Caleb’s lips wrap around your swollen nipple. His control over his evol slips and you can slightly move your body, but your hands remain pinned over your head. Involuntarily, you rock your hips against his knee. His other hand roams over your skin, ripping your dress off your body.
Caleb’s fingers slip over your tummy, finding their home inside your wet cunt. He lazily circles your clit. You buck against him trying to get him to go faster.
“Say you missed me, meimei,” he nuzzles into your chest, his eyes locking with yours. You want to burst at the seems because you did miss him. You have missed him more than anyone else in this universe. “Please.”
“I missed you more than words can convey, gege. Everyday,” you cry out as Caleb’s fingers plunge into your aching hole.
“Fuck,” his voice is laced with midnight. He curls his fingers inside you, but doesn’t move. Your gooey walls tighten around him.
“I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me cum, big brother.”
Caleb moans as he moves his fingers inside of you in a rapid, violent rhythm. Your body is pinned down by his evol, but you try thrusting your hips anyways. Caleb’s mouth latches to your nipple. He sucks your hardening bud with delight. With his thumb, Caleb gives your clit friction.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. He inserts another finger into you. Your house is filled with the sounds of your moans. The squelching sound of your messy cunt as Caleb fingers you without hesitation. His curled fingers hit your spongy core.
“Ah!” You let out a scream of pleasure as Caleb rams his fingers into you. “Fuck, Caleb! I’m going to cum!”
“Cum for me, pipsqueak. Let me see you come undone by my fingers,” he bites down on your sensitive nipples.
It sends you over the edge. A soul shattering orgasm hits you. You throw your head back, breaking through Caleb’s evol. Your back arches, your hands reaching for Caleb’s hair. You scream out. Your toes curl as Caleb makes you ride out his orgasm. His fingers stop moving inside of you, but they don’t leave you.
“Fuck,” Caleb moans deeply.
You’re crying silently. He lets go of your violated breast. Saliva clings to his lips. As he removes his fingers from inside of you, he gathers as much of your sleek juices as he can. He brings his fingers to his mouth. They drip with the evidence of your pleasure.
He slowly licks you off of him. He closes his eyes savoring your taste. “You taste divine, baby sister. Don’t ever run away from me again.”
You keep crying as you sit up. You wrap your arms around him tightly, sobbing into his chest. His warmth envelops you. You focus on his heartbeat to remind yourself that he is alive and this is real.
“Don’t ever leave me again!” you hit his shoulder. Caleb wraps his arms around you. His hand finding your hair. He nuzzles his face on your silky hair stained with blood.
“I’m here now. It’s okay. I won’t leave you again, not if I can help it.”