#So I’d have to pay for it out of my own pocket and… my pocket’s kind of small. I’m a freelance animator.

[crtter]

Now I’ve gotten many an American on this post talking about how they’ve driven longer than this (about 19h) before. Which is funny, because I never said it’s an impossible trip to make! Just one I had yet to do it myself. Bit out of the way, y’know? It’s not unheard of for a person from, say, Texas to have never been to New York to see the Statue of Liberty, is it? But it’s not like people over here don’t go on trips this long or even longer, though! It’s pretty common, actually. In fact, check this out:

We’re about the same size! You’re the big guys from the north and we’re the big guys from the south. I often say that the town I’m going to move to in the future is “a quick trip away” from the city I live in right now but it’s actually five hours away, heh.

That being said, though: We’re talking driving here, you silly goose! Bringing up planes is cheating. Of course 1000 km is nothing if you’re flying there. It’s like three hours. Barely enough time to see a movie. I’ve traveled like 11000 km by plane before (my dad lives in Saudi Arabia). In fact, I’ve been to Disney World in Florida myself! it’s the number one international travel choice for Brazilians, apparently. Warm enough so we don’t keel over and die of exposure AND Mickey’s there.

”How come you’ve never seen the Amazon rainforest if you’re from Brazil?” big country

[mrsonmyr]

let me for once

summary: y/n pays for dinner. inspired by the trend of girls paying for their stubborn boyfriends

pairing: sidney crosby x female reader

authors note: a late night blurb but I am taking Sidney requests <3

Early on in your relationship you insisted on paying for dinner and drinks. With your manicured hand reaching into your purse, you fished out your wallet, only to look up and find Sidney staring at you, utterly dumbfounded.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Paying,” you said, cheeks warming. “You’ve taken me out so many times—I want to take you out.”

Sidney’s lips curled into an amused smile as he shook his head. “You don’t need to do that. I’m taking you out, I’m paying. I always pay.”

“I know you always pay, and I appreciate it. That’s why I wanted to for once.”

His cheeks started to turn pink. “Babe, really. Put your card away.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Sidney, I’m serious.” You slid your credit card across the table next to the check.

Without missing a beat, he slid it right back to you, tucking his own card inside instead. “Here,” he said, pushing the checkbook toward you. “Use this to pay.”

You stared at him. “Sidney, I’m not paying with your card. I work, I have money, and I want to treat my boyfriend.”

“But you’re my girlfriend. You shouldn’t be paying for my dinner.” His tone was firm yet affectionate. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m taking you out. I’m paying.”

“So, if I make a reservation somewhere and take you out, then I can pay?”

“No,” he said easily. “I’d still pay.”

You folded your arms, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. “I won’t forget this, Crosby.”

With a smirk, he handed the waiter his card as they came to collect the check, leaving you shaking your head—because, of course, he wasn’t going to budge.

Years later, and it’s still the same—he never lets you pay. Gas, nails, groceries, dinner—nothing. He won’t allow it.

Tonight is no different. It’s a cozy Friday night in, and takeout is the plan.

“Do you want pizza? Wings? We could do Thai—we haven’t had that in a while,” you suggest, scrolling through your phone from your spot on the couch.

“Whatever you want, babe. I’ll eat anything,” Sid calls from the other room. And you know that to be true.

You settle on pizza from your favorite spot, confirm the order with Sid, and a few minutes later, he walks over—wallet in hand.

“It should be here in 45 minutes,” you say, locking your phone and sinking back into the cushions. You ignore the sight of your large boyfriend standing in front of you, waving his wallet like a flag.

“Are they gonna take cash at the door?” he asks, frowning slightly.

“Nope, they’ll just drop it off,” you reply, feigning innocence.

“But… how do we pay?”

“Oh, it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.” You keep your eyes on the screen. “Sit, sit. I’ll start the movie from the beginning.”

Sidney hesitates before sinking onto the couch, placing his wallet on the coffee table. “Did you pay?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Sidney groaned and threw his head back against the couch dramatically. “Why would you do that?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the small smirk threatening to form gave you away. “Because I can.”

“No, you can’t,” he shot back immediately, sitting up and turning toward you. “That’s illegal.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “It’s not illegal, Sid.”

He huffed, crossing his arms like a stubborn kid. “In this house, it is.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “It’s just pizza.”

“It’s not just pizza. It’s the principle.”

You knew this game all too well. He always insisted on paying, no matter what. But after years of him covering everything, you’d decided to sneak one in when you could.

“I think the principle is that I should be able to buy dinner for my own boyfriend every once in a while,” you countered, poking him in the side.

Sidney narrowed his eyes, but you could see the way his lips twitched, fighting a smile. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like it,” you teased, snuggling closer. “You just have to accept it.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “This isn’t over.”

You grinned, grabbing the remote. “I’d expect nothing less.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday Requests your blogs are the sole reason i visit tumblr in the first place. Thank you for feeding my dcxdp brain rot the appreciation is very much reciprocated and i’d like to humbly request a continuation for Jason’s Doll or Mr. Flavor!

After the smear campaign had been dealt with, Tim took time to carefully convince his employees that Scarecrow had somehow dosed the whole building in Fear Gas; that way, they would return to work once he gave everyone a month off with pay to "clean out the vents".

He did not want people to walk away thinking Danny the doll was by any means haunted. It would undo every last attempt to fix Jason's image, which he had carefully constructed.

In a city like Gotham, being dosed with gas was so common that no one batted an eye when Tim called them back. Many of the employees were overjoyed by the paid vacation.

The young CEO had even gone as far as to spread rumors that no one really saw the alleged doll, causing people to assume there was mass hysteria. Everyone was happier this way.

He felt like he could finally relax after weeks of meticulous planning. He went into work assuming the only stress he would experience would be the typical CEO kind.

Then Jason, needing a favor, marched into his office within the first hour.

Tim stares at the doll sitting on his office desk, feeling the blood drain from his face as his brother happily chatters.

"He usually likes to sit by windows. Don't forget to clean him with a damp, warm cloth; his clothes are machine washable." Jason said, laying out some of Danny's tea cup sets. Apparently, his brother had been shopping. "Danny usually has his tea daily at one, but if you're working, I'm sure he'll understand. He can wait."

"Jay..."Tim started feeling Danny staring into his soul. He knew a soul existed, but that didn't stop the thing from being unnerving. Was Danny made entirely of Fear Gas? "Are you sure you can't take Danny with you?"

"I want to." Jason sighed, tracing the fabric of Danny's hair. "But we aren't sure if space travel will worsen Danny's chances of recovery. Normally, I wouldn't take any jobs outside Gotham, but Roy needs help."

Danny's head jerked as if the porcelain neck of the doll had broken, the little head falling to the side, facing Jason. Familiar whispers of hell fill the air, making Tim's stomach drop.

He leans further into the plush of his office chair, wanting to get as far away from Danny as possible while Jason smiles.

"Thank you for understanding, " he tells Danny with a fondness usually reserved for lovers. Tim might have found it sweet if it had not been that he was terrified of Jason's undead boyfriend.

"Please don't leave," He whispers, uncaring how pathetic his voice sounded.

"You're going to find Tim." Jason laughs, shaking his head. "Danny says he likes you!"

Tim's eyes slid over to the doll, feeling himself jump a little when he realized he had turned in his direction. Without a sound. Without Tim, for all his training, even noticing the movement.

There was a moment when he felt like something with sharp teeth grinning at him. The sensation came from behind his left shoulder, and he jerked around, hand flying to his hidden expandable staff in his left pocket. Nothing but the cream color of his wall stares back at him.

He slowly turns back to his guest, Danny, quite suddenly right in front of him, sitting on his laptop. Its slightly watery eyes- painted with the effect- were mere inches from Tim's nose.

The sensation of being watched by a predatory grows. A whimper leaves Tim's lips against his will just as Jason checks his phone and shoulders his travel bag. "Alright, I have to head out. Artemis is on the way here to pick me up. Thanks again, Tim."

"No." He whispers, unable to look away from his own reflection in Danny's eyes. He looks petrified. "Don't leave me here with him."

"Bye, Danny. See you in two weeks." Jason grabs the doll's head in a quick one-arm hug.

A scratching wail from down the hall makes Tim nearly fall over, but Jason only blushes as he leans closer. "I love you too."

Before Tim can find the courage to throw Danny back at him, his brother is up and out the door. Soon, his office is left in utter silence as the duo observe one another.

Tim only dared move an inch once Tam knocked on his door. "Morning, Tim. You're nine o'clock is here; I sent you the required documents for the meeting, and is that a doll?"

Her voice trails off from her typical professional pitch to the one he is used to hearing when the pair reminisce about the time they ran from assassins together. It's far more casual, with just the hints of judgment that Tim can appreciate because it means she's not above calling his bullshit out.

"This...is Danny," He hears himself introduce. "Danny, this is Tam."

His PA cooks one hip, raises a brow, and gestures at the desk where the doll sits. "I thought the rumors about the haunted doll resulted from the night job misunderstanding?"

"No. I worked to cover them up."

Tam rolls the information around in her head before looking at her tablet with a wide smile. "You do not pay me enough to handle haunted dolls. I have to be in conference room 103 in five minutes. I have to check on our coffee orders."

"But Tam-"

"No." She slams the door close. The click-clack of her heels echoes as she struts away, and Tim is left staring longingly at the blurred windows of his glass doors. He looks back at Danny, who has moved again.

This time, the cold porcelain is pressing into his left cheek because Danny is suddenly there. Standing on the arm of his office chair and leaning on Tim's face.

The scream that ripped out of his throat had the security running to his office and Tam dialing the Bats in ten seconds. It didn't help that the scream had traveled through the vents, echoing into the building as every employee looked up from their cubicle with a jump.

"What was that?"

"A little girl go hurt on level seventy-four."

"Isn't that the CEO's floor?"

"Must be one of the thousands of kids the Waynes bring to those charity events."

[meinii]

“high school sweethearts”

summary: you and Sylus start dating while in high school ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

content: fluff, use of nicknames (sweetheart, my girl)

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the first time you met Sylus, you never imagined he’d become the person you couldn’t live without

he was notorious around school—sharp-witted, effortlessly cool, and somehow always at the center of every bit of mischief. teachers either loved or hated him, depending on the day. classmates admired him, feared him, or wished they were him. but you? you were different. you weren’t caught up in his reputation, nor were you particularly fazed by the smirks and cocky remarks he threw your way

maybe that’s why he liked you so much

“hey, you dropped something” Sylus had said one afternoon, just as you were packing up your things after class

you turned, only to find him standing behind you, dangling your pen between his fingers

you reached for it, but he pulled it just out of reach

“say please” he teased, red eyes glinting with amusement

“Sylus.”

he chuckled, finally placing the pen in your palm. but instead of walking away, he leaned in a little closer, watching you with the kind of intensity that made your breath catch

“you always so serious?”

“you always this annoying?”

his grin widened “only for you, sweetheart”

and from then on, Sylus had made it his personal mission to become a permanent part of your life.

dating Sylus in high school was an experience all on its own

he wasn’t the type to hide how he felt. he was bold, unashamed, and completely, utterly yours

he made sure everyone knew it too

he’d drape his blazer over your shoulders whenever you got cold, despite your protests that he needed it. he’d walk you to class, even if it meant showing up late to his own. he’d lean against your desk during lessons, whispering things in your ear just to see you flustered, all while feigning complete innocence when the teacher caught him

“pay attention, Sylus” you’d hiss under your breath

“oh, I am,” he’d murmur, lips barely inches from your ear “just not to the lesson.”

you swore he lived to tease you, to push your buttons just enough to earn that exasperated look you always gave him

but Sylus wasn’t just trouble

he was also the boy who carried your books when your bag was too heavy, the boy who sat with you on the rooftop during lunch when you needed quiet, the boy who knew exactly how you liked your coffee and brought it to you without fail before early morning exams

he was the boy who kissed you softly when no one was looking, like you were something precious

one afternoon, you found him waiting for you by the school gates, hands in his pockets, looking as effortlessly cool as ever

you raised a brow “waiting for someone?”

he smirked “yeah. my girl.”

your face heated, but you rolled your eyes, already used to his shamelessness. “and if your girl doesn’t want to walk home with you today?”

he tilted his head, stepping closer “then I’d have to convince her”

before you could react, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small paper bag, pressing it into your hands

confused, you peeked inside. your favorite pastries

you looked up at him, skeptical “bribery?”

he grinned “persuasion.”

you huffed, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “fine. but only because I’m hungry”

Sylus chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the two of you started walking “whatever you say, sweetheart”

one evening, as the two of you sat on the bleachers after school, watching the sky turn shades of pink and gold, Sylus nudged your knee with his

“ever think about the future?” he asked, gaze fixed on the horizon

you hummed “sometimes”

he was quiet for a moment, then, softer—“you think we’ll still be together?”

the question caught you off guard. Sylus rarely voiced his deeper thoughts, always covering them with smirks and teasing remarks

you turned to face him, searching his expression

“I don’t know,” you admitted honestly “but I’d like to think so”

his lips quirked up, but there was something different in his eyes. something vulnerable

he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“then I’ll make sure of it.”

Sylus was your high school sweetheart—the boy who stole your heart so effortlessly, the boy who made you laugh, who drove you crazy, who held you like you were the most important thing in the world

and years later, when you looked back, you knew

you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

41 ┆ not once but twice (0.6k words)

The day you and Jungwon were supposed to meet, you woke up sick. You didn’t come in contact with someone who was sick nor was that cold for you to catch a sickness from the weather. Still, you woke up sick.

Instead of staying home, you still went to meet with Jungwon. You didn’t want to cause trouble by cancelling last minute, so, you took your medication and went on your way.

Your eyes felt heavy as you watched the boy’s pencil move across his notebook. You were trying your hardest to pay attention, but couldn’t. Not with your head throbbing. 

“You’re so distracted. Try and focus.” He said while looking over at you who sat beside him.

“I’m trying.” You replied while attempting to forget about your incoming fever. Jungwon put his pencil down and looked over at you. You looked back at him with a puzzled expression as his hand made its way to your forehead.

“Are you sick?” He asked as you avoided his gaze. He compared your temperature to his own, his eyes slightly widening at the discovery.

“You are, aren’t you?”

You nodded at his words, embarrassed. 

“Why didn’t you stay home? It would’ve been fine.” Jungwon reassured you and began packing up your belongings. 

“It was too late. I thought I’d be fine after taking medication, but obviously, it wasn’t enough.” You explained while helping him pack.

“Sorry,” you apologized, causing him to scoff.

“It’s fine. Seriously, next time just cancel. It’s getting cold outside now, your cold could develop into the flu.”

You nodded at his words in silence. Technically, he was right. You couldn’t refute anything he had said. Jungwon smiled at your silent state, leaving him satisfied. He rose from his spot as you followed through, confused.

“Where are we going?” 

“I’m taking you home. Where else are you going to go in such a state?” He said with a raised brow. You looked around silently while nodding. Once again, he was right. The longer you stayed out, the worse your cold would have gotten.

Maybe he was truly worried about you.

He zipped up your jacket, making sure you were completely warm, which only left you more flustered than before. 

“Let’s make a stop at the convenience store first.” He insisted, leaving you with no other choice but to nod. 

The walk over wasn’t far. It was more so awkward. Your hands brushed against each other not once, but twice. 

It left you both flustered and silent. It was obvious the two of you took note of it as well.

“Wait here,” Jungwon said before running into the convenience store in haste. You stood outside quietly and observed the things around you. They were pretty. 

Pretty enough for a picture. With that said, you pulled out your mini film camera from your pocket and crouched down in front of the plants before capturing the picture.

“What are you doing?” Jungwon asked, peeking over your shoulder from behind. You flinched at his sudden presence, almost falling forward. However, his hand grabbed onto your arm, stabilizing your wobbly figure.

“Thank you,” you said while dusting off your clothes and turning to look at him.

His bangs were covering his eyes which almost made him look like a creep. Your smile and laughs left Jungwon confused as he let go of your arm. 

What was so funny?

“What?” 

“Your bangs were covering your eyes.” You explained while reaching over to push his hair out of his view.

“It looked stupid.” 

If there was one thing for sure, he definitely looked stupid right now. From the small act, he was left blushing. Jungwon looked away hoping you wouldn’t see his subtly rosy cheeks and adjusted his bangs himself until they felt right.

Surely, you caught him off guard with that.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — short little written chap of wonyn my babies 😞

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[chelseeebe]

build me up, buttercup

chapter 1 — orchid

after winding up in the dead-end town of hawkins, you start to lose faith in your dreams ever becoming a reality. not to mention the despicable boy next door who seemed to want no part in your happiness.

18+ mdni. eventual smut. grumpy, borderline mean eddie. no use of y/n!

hello! dropping this and running because i’ve been so badly inactive it hurts. this is the first part to my mechanicasshole!eddie x floristsunshine!reader that’s kinda short in hindsight, take it as an introduction, but the next part is also finished so will follow shortly, hope you enjoy idk i like it!!

༘⋆✿

a dying, otherwise desolate strip mall in buttfuck indiana was never an ideal place to set up shop. other than the tiny, family-run vietnamese restaurant, the only other shops that weren’t bordered up were your florist and the despicable garage that lingered right at the end. 

it was dark and dinghy, men with grease stains and tattoos littering their arms swaggered in and out daily. swearing and smoking as if they owned the entire town. 

in the eighteen months you’d owned lavender lane, you had never, ever seen eye to eye with the conceited prick who owned munson’s & co. 

a self-obsessed, arrogant asshole who had no business acting the way he did. 

ridiculous hair and torn jeans that’d serve better as one of the rags he kept hanging out of his back pocket. 

it’s almost too much, a show he’s putting on to prove to everyone else that he didn’t care, that being normal was beneath him. 

yuck. 

he’s stood now, horrific music blaring out of the shop, cigarette in hand, paying you no mind as your stomp over for the second time this week. 

you’d have left him alone if you hadn’t found cigarette butts littered along your doorstep. a spiteful, purposeful act no doubt. 

“what’ve i told you about smoking outside of my shop!” jaw clenched, ready to throw fists if it really came to it. 

eddie turns, already rolling his eyes, “what’ve i told you about speaking to me like that?” blowing the smoke right into your face. 

he’s repulsive. his smug little smirk makes your skin crawl, so much so you’re sure no human had ever possibly loved him before. 

“control your staff, before i have to do it for you,” sneering your reply, no words were enough to describe the utter contempt you felt for him. 

eddie’s laugh echoes, a cackle that cuts deep, “yeah? or what? what the hell are you gonna do ‘bout it, princess?” 

your brows furrow, he was only using that to taunt you. looking down on you from his dirty, cement tower. 

with your blood boiling and a rapidly declining sense of self-control, you hiss, “i’ll.. i’ll smash that bike of yours to pieces,” turning on your heel to stomp back to your own store, feeling their eyes bore into the back of your head. 

eddie whoops and they leer, making comments amongst themselves, a pathetic gaggle of school children really. 

your eyes burn, desperate not to let him see that he’d got to you. he didn’t deserve that satisfaction. 

you could pack up and go home if you really wanted, you’d maybe get one more customer between now and five, they could go without for one day. 

that’d be giving up and giving in, something you were most definitely not prepared to do at the hands of eddie. 

-

they’re still outside when you do shut up shop, talking loudly about the bar they all frequent. a grotesque shithole, you don’t doubt. 

any place that eddie munson went, trouble was guaranteed to follow. 

he was crude and uncouth, swaggering about like the world owed him something. everything you stood against as a person. 

you attempt to get out of there quickly, the bottle of pinot grigio you’d chilled before work loudly calling your name, but he has other plans. 

“hey,” he hollers as you turn the key, cursing the sky, “you joining us tonight sweetheart?” kissing the backs of his teeth, knowing full well what your answer would be. 

your lip snarls, finding it hilarious that he’d even waste the breath to ask, “i’d rather die,” monotonously and without faltering as you stride over to your car. 

they share a laugh at your expense, leering over the crumbling brick wall, “that’s your loss sweetheart,” watching as you climb in and pull away. 

who he did he think he was? 

like you’d ever degrade yourself enough to even entertain him or his pathetic friends. 

his words, and attitude for that matter, make you fume the entire way home, still grumbling to yourself as you pull into your driveway. 

the man was a narcissist, plain and simple. that was the only explanation you could conjure up on the ten minute drive. 

you try and push him out of your brain, his irritating, grating voice still niggling away in your ear. an impenetrable force that was bound to curse you forever. 

or at least until the first sip of cold wine passes your lips and eddie munson becomes but a distant memory. 

practically launching yourself on the couch, your pants strewn across the floor and a severe lack of energy to care. you press the answering machine, half-expecting silence until the all familiar warm voice rings out. 

‘hey sweetie, i was just calling to see how you were doing, but i suppose you’re busy at the shop! i hope you’re working hard and indiana is treating you well. okay, that was all. love you baby, bye.’ 

your mom, only calling to to see how her 

how could you tell her the store was failing? that three customers a day was a victory at this point? 

she’d be so ashamed, funnelling money into your move east just for you to crawl back home with nothing to show for it but a failed business and a new sworn enemy. 

there he was again. always lingering, haunting if you will. 

you’d call her back tomorrow, or another time when you had the nerve to face her.

she deserved to know, but she also deserved so much better. something you had not been able to provide for her like she had you. 

it’s not as if you’re not trying, hawkin’s was a dying town before you’d moved there and now with starcourt mall lingering on the outskirts, main street remained empty. 

why would they waste time coming to you when the mall has everything they’d ever need? 

you couldn’t believe so many people had fallen for such an obvious gimmick, the neon lights and extensive food court was everything hawkins stood against. only the people didn’t seem to think so. 

the tv comes on, a re-run of full house you’d seen a hundred times by now. but it’d do as you sipped wine for supper and planned exactly what lies you’d spin your mom tomorrow. 

-

it’s a dull, bleak morning, highly reflective of your mood. another day spent pitying eddie and pretending that the lack of footfall didn’t hurt your feelings. 

maybe an entire bottle of wine wasn’t wise, now paying the price for your greed as your head pounds all the way over to the store. 

some days you ponder if opening is even worth it, if the extra hours spent in bed would be far more beneficial than dragging yourself here. 

but then the ever-growing voices of your mom weigh in and remind you that this is your dream and if selling one bouquet a day was what you had to do to live it, then so be it. 

an envelope—the envelope, sits on the doormat when you get in, obviously slipped under the crack in the door some point this morning. all red and glaring. 

your heart sinks, knowing exactly what this meant. 

you’d failed. miserably. and now you’d have to crawl back home with your tail between your legs, begging for another chance. 

your eyes only skim the words; regret, closure, re-development, final. all daunting and without a trace of sincerity. 

glancing over at the garage where eddie stood with his steaming mug, seemingly unaffected by the news. maybe they’d decided to leave the garage open and just tear your little shop down. 

that’d be right, wouldn’t it? 

you must know, stomping over, letter in-hand to question the smug man. 

“did you get one of these?” flapping the paper about in his face, making sure he knew exactly what it was. 

his eyes narrow, prepared for an argument only to realise you’re not so angry at him today. “what? that crock of bullshit? yeah, i got one,” nodding at the crumpled piece of paper tossed on the floor, “they’d never close this place down,” so certain of himself, “i’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either sweetheart,” taking another sip. 

your brows furrow, unsurprisingly, you don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. “this isn’t a joke, eddie,” frustration seeping out of your mouth, “i think you owe it to your uncle to care, or at least pretend to,” snarling your lip, though this wasn’t your usual bickering. 

his blasé attitude wouldn’t run this time, someone had to care before they left both of you without jobs. 

his uncle is a nice man that took the time to get to know you, holding a genuine interest in your shop all until he gave it up six months back, retiring just to leave the garage to his dorky nephew. 

eddie’s gaze averts yours, shaking his head as if to dismiss you. “you done? i’ve got work to do,” folding his arms over his chest, attempting to slink off back into the dusty building. 

if he wouldn’t fight it, you would. 

you and mr. pham maybe. 

though you can’t see him putting up much of a fight either. 

trundling back over to your own depressing storefront, wasting no more breath on eddie munson. 

it’s the worst news in the world and yet, you can’t help but feel relieved. 

months of stress and fretting over bills needn’t amount to anything if they were just going to bulldoze the entire thing. 

but then, leaving without a fight would be futile, downright pathetic even. that’s not who you were, or who you were raised to be. 

mayor kline would have to listen to you, either that or you’d tie him to his chair and frankly force him to. 

you ponder asking eddie for wayne’s address, hoping to get him on your side yourself but knowing him, he’d send you on a wild goose chase around town just for the fun of it. 

you were fighting this on your own it seems. the only person left in this desolate town that cared about the little people. 

[ladylooch]

Weekends with Nico - [Nico Hischier]

Summary: Nico’s in town for the weekend and spends all of it with the love of his life.

Word Count: 5.5k

Main Trope: Established relationship; PURE fluffy fluff with our favorite fluff.

Friday

The minute my hand turns the door handle of mine and Nico’s apartment, I gasp in surprise as a glass of wine is extended from behind the door.

“Wow, look at this service. Five stars, Hischier!” I exclaim, grabbing the chilled white wine from his grasp. I joking gulp down three sips that has Nico wheezing out a laugh.

“Get it, baby!” He encourages me needlessly. I snort into the wine glass and almost choke on my next sip. Nico takes my work bag from me as I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “Was that fast enough for you? Your 'need wine ASAP' text was in all caps so I figured it was serious.”

“Perfect timing as usual.” I compliment him, then snuggle myself into his chest in a side hug. He drops a soft kiss on my lips that has my shitty day evaporating from my mind.

“I’m sorry you had a rough day.” He tells me sincerely.

“Thank you. It’s all better now.”

“The vino?”

“No, being home with you.” I insist. Nico beams back to me.

“You still okay to go out?”

“Hell yeah. Let me change, drink this up and I am ready to go.” 

“Okay.” He agrees, taking a sip of his own red wine. He pats my ass as we separate and heads back to the couch where he is catching up on a new show him and Timo started on the road together.

When I come out later in my date night outfit, Nico slides off the leather couch onto his knees. His thick eyebrows curl together dramatically as he groans.

“Good god, babe.” He shakes his head in deep appreciation. “I don’t know what I did right to get you all to myself, but I’d do it again in every lifetime.” I glide my hands over my tight jeans and busty top. I know I look good, but it tickles me to see him literally fall to his knees to worship me. Every woman deserves a Nico Hischier. But not this one. He’s mine.

“Hischier, you’re getting laid tonight. No need to lay it on this thick.” I roll my eyes at him, but the smug smirk on my face let’s him know how much I love him stroking my ego.

“Sweet, so you’re paying for dinner tonight?”

“You would never be so tacky.” Nico’s face crinkles up into a disgusted curl. 

“No. Not my style.” He says as he picks himself up off the floor.

He walks over to me, immediately stretching a big paw around my waist to dip into the back pocket of my black jeans. He pulls me flush with him then swipes his lips across mine. It’s teasing, not quite a kiss until I put my hand on the back of his neck. Then the playfulness stops and we consume the breath from each other’s lungs. His thumb extends off my jaw line to stroke my cheek as our tongues connect. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it before finally breaking away. 

“We better go now or we won’t.” I whisper, feeling dizzy from his kisses and the way he looks at me.

“We’re finishing this later.” He insists.

We absolutely are.

But before then, we head to our favorite tapas place, indulging in tostadas, shrimp skewers, chicken wings and a chicharron situation that I’ll be dreaming about until the next time we can get back there. I have a few more glasses of wine, but Nico stops because tomorrow is a game day and he hates the fuzziness of a hangover when he has to compete at such a high level. He asks if I want ice cream, but I decline, feeling too full for such a decadent dessert. 

We walk through the streets of Hoboken back to our apartment, hand in hand. Our shoulders bump as we weave through the masses of people until we get to a quieter stretch of our neighborhood. We walk by a corner bar that has the door open, letting the live music bleed out onto the street. I peak inside as we stride by then immediately stop in place. Nico’s hands stretches out as long as possible before he feels the tug of my dead weight behind him.

“What?” He asks me.

“We have to go in.”

“Why?”

“Karaoke.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“No, but it could be really good! Come on! People are just starting to get drunk. Oh! Oh! Let’s invite Timo and sign him up.” I clasp my hand over my mouth and start laughing. “He could sing Barbie Girl! He loves ABBA!”

“Yes. We must.” Nico concludes, already texting Timo. Once Timo agrees to come meet us for a drink, I go to the side stage to sign him up on the sheet. There are plenty of people before him so by the time he arrives and settles in with a drink, they’re calling him as on deck.

Timo balks at Nico in Swiss German who says something back to him that has Timo actually getting up to do the song.

“I’m not going up there alone.” He looks pointedly at me.

“Nico.” I wave to my boyfriend.

“Someone has to save the table.” Nico stretches his hands out on the table top. “And you are way drunker than me.”

“Just tell her what you told me: captain's orders.” 

“That’ll bring out a version of her you aren’t ready for, T.” Nico smirks knowingly at me while addressing his teammate. My eyes darken and my lips curl into a coy smile.

But that’s how Timo and I end up singing a terrible rendition of Barbie Girl. Serious, Swiss captain Nico Hischier is laughing so hard he is crying at Timo’s attempt to lower his voice to match the baritone of the male singer. We leave immediately after because it was so terrible I don’t know how Timo is going to show his face at Prudential Center tomorrow.

“I’m never coming out with you guys again.” Timo laughs with Nico and I as we spill out onto the sidewalk. 

“Oh come on! It wasn’t that bad!”

“We are running away in shame. What do you mean it wasn’t that bad!?” Timo chokes on a laugh, gesturing back to the open doorway. “I swear to god if I get tagged in a video on TikTok…” Nico and I collapse into giggles, barely able to keep walking as Timo hunches his shoulders and runs off in front of us. “I’m leaving you bad influences behind!” He yells then continues on towards home.

“He’s actually ditching us.” I stutter at his retreating back.

“He has a date.” Nico fills in.

“Oh! Am I getting a bestie!?”

“Maybe… I think it’s going pretty good.” 

“I think things with us are going pretty good too, friend.” I bump into his shoulder.

“That’s so sweet after two years together that you’re finally ready to call me a friend.” 

“Hey, you’re my best friend.”

Nico tosses an arm around my shoulders, bringing my head to his mouth for a smooch. 

“Let’s get you into our bed, best friend.”

But we don’t make it there.

Instead, we get greedy and hungry as we strip down in our walk-in closet. Before we can move our bodies anywhere else, we are sliding to the floor amongst our discarded clothes. Nico strokes his nose through my slick folds and has me for dessert. I stretch and arch into his face, rolling my hips into his mouth as my hand finds purchase in his long hair. My teeth pierce into my bottom lip then fall away as I come, surrendering to wave after wave of pleasure. 

Nico takes his time pulling away from me, kissing my soaked skin, leaving wet kisses up my stomach as he settles the head of his cock against my entrance. He holds my face in place as he slides in, keeping my eyes on him for the duration of his hard thrusts into me. It’s intimate, intense, and passionate as we say nothing, but match each others excited, building breaths.

“I love you.” He tells me when he sees the build crescendo on my face. I whimper my love back to him. “Go ahead, sweet girl. Come for me.” He quietly requests, biting at my bottom lip. I squeak then release, fluttering around him in heavenly pulses until he spills deep into me. 

Afterwards, Nico collects me into his arms, then deposits me into the bed before returning with the aftercare essentials of water, my sleep gummies and a washcloth. 

“I had the best night with you.” I tell him as he cleans my folds gently. His smile softens his brown eyes even more. “I love you. Can’t believe how lucky we are to have Friday nights this good.” 

“Every day with you is the best day, baby.” He replies when he finishes his diligent clean up. He covers me with the comforter then disappears into the bathroom before coming to join me in a fresh pair of underwear. He tosses a t-shirt of his my way to put on as pajamas.

His strong arms collect me into the exact place he wants me. He pins one of my legs between his big thighs, then wraps one arm around my back. His fingers draw the lazy, barely touching circles he knows make me fall asleep quickly. 

“I don’t wanna fall asleep.” I sigh out even though I’m in the midst of losing the battle. “Don’t wanna be apart.” 

“We’re never apart, baby. I’ll visit in your dreams tonight. Promise.” He says with a kiss to my nose. 

With that reassurance, and his comforting strokes, I let myself succumb to the siren whisper of sleep.

Saturday

Plump lips make a home out of mine causing me to stir from my slumber. I kiss back in half-hearted attempts until a tongue is trying to worm it’s way into my mouth. Then I breathe in deep, tossing my arms around big shoulders. Two large hands slide down my back to my thighs, pulling me into a strong, warm chest.

“Whass this?” I mumble. 

“I miss you. I want you to wake up so I can tell you how much I love you and why.” 

“Can’t we do this later?”

“I have to go to practice soon.”

“That’s not my fault. You picked this life.”

“So did you.” He chuckles as he reminds me. “All I want to do today is have coffee with you. Barely even care about the game.”

“I’m telling Timo.” Nico gasps softly.

“No, don’t.” He whines.

“Jonas too.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe even Jack.”

“Take it back.” Nico demands, halting his steps to the kitchen.

“Put me back in bed.” I challenge him, squinting my eyes. His face falls making me instantly regret giving him such a hard time.

“Baby, I really want to spend time with you this morning.”

“Okay. I’ll be your lil koala.” I hold out the vowels making his dimples re-appear. “But I do need coffee.”

“I’ve got that covered. Plus a muffin.”

On the coffee table is a latte from my favorite coffee shop and an equally delicious, double chocolate muffin. He sets me down on the couch, then hands me both before folding my legs into his lap. He rubs at my feet as we sit in comfortable silence. 

“Who do you play tonight?”

“Preds.”

“Josi!”

“Ya.” Nico nods. “Probably won’t have time to meet up with him before, so I’ll have to check in with him after the game."

“That will be fun! I can’t believe it’s already been this long since World Championships.”

“Mhm. What are you up to today?” 

“I have to do laundry. Bleh. I don’t have anything to wear to the game tonight. The girls and I are getting drinks before, so if you don’t see me at warm ups, I’m not dead. Just buzzin’.” Nico chuckles. 

“Get some dinner in you too.”

“I will, mom.” I promise. You accidentally miss a game one time and he never lets you live it down…

Nico shoves the last bite of his muffin into his mouth then mumbles, “I gotta go” through puffed out cheeks. He kisses me after he swallows then heads out the door for morning skate. 

The rest of the day is our typical game day routine. Nico comes home after eating his pre-game meal at the rink. He heads right to our bedroom to close the curtains and get his nap going. I stay in the living room until I have to shower, then I tiptoe around as best I can getting ready until he pops his head into the bathroom. 

“Can I shower?”

“Yes, please. I could use a show while I get ready.” I tease him. 

He puts on a performance for me through the glass enclosure of the shower, including putting his perfect, sudsed up butt cheeks into the glass. I cat call him from outside the shower, leaning against the counter as he rinses off. His smile is so wide, dimples prominent, he looks innocent and deliciously sexy at the same time. 

He towels off quickly as I head into our closet to change. I help him pick out his game day outfit trying to argue with him to not wear his latest white beanie. 

“What about dress shoes?” I suggest when he stuffs his feet into his designer sneakers.

“No. These are more comfortable.” 

I sigh in defeat.

“Next game day. I promise.” He assures me, kissing my cheek as he moves past to gather the necessities like wallets, keys, and chapstick. “Do you need money for tonight?” He asks me, thumbing through the cash in his wallet. He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just tosses it all on the dresser for me if I need it. Then he straps his watch to his wrist as a knock sounds on the front door, meaning Timo is here.

“Game time. Love you, babe. I’ll see you after.” He gathers me into his arms. I hug him tightly to me, getting lost in his upper body and piney scent.

“I love you. Be safe. Good luck. Show me something out there tonight, hey?”

“I always do, no?”

“Eh.” I shrug noncommittally. Nico narrows his eyes at my deliberate sass. I fold my lips inward and rush backwards as he swats at my ass.

“Have fun with the girls.” He says through a smirk. “Don’t eat any men tonight with that outfit.”

I laugh at his retreating back.

“No promises!”

He knows I’m teasing. After all, it’s his last name and number that hang on dainty gold chains around my neck at the bar later that night.

The girls and I chat and catch up. It’s been a couple weeks since we all got together and the conversation flows as well as the drinks do. We miss warm ups, but do make it in time for puck drop. Nico is in the starting line up and he does a little stick tap in my direction when he sees me in our family corner. I clap in response, making all my bracelets clang together on my wrists

“Let’s go, baby!” 

It’s a night unlike any other that we have shared together at Prudential Center. Nico scores his first NHL hat trick. When the hats start soaring through the air, I wish I could run to him. When the crowd chants his name during his post-game, on ice interview, I wish I could be in his arms, feeling the laughter in his chest and the way his heart nervously flutters at all the recognition.

But right now, I still have to share him. So instead, I cheer and chant his name too. 

Then I do it again for him privately.

A captain’s showing in our bed only.

Sunday

Our Sunday, off-day tradition is all about seeing how long we can stay in bed without having to get up. Loser has to get the other coffee when they get up. It’s not surprising that it is me this morning. I have to pee, but unlike Nico who was up buzzin’ off his game high until 2:30am, I collapsed into a worn out heap by midnight.

I tiptoe out of the room, moving quietly through the kitchen to get two cups of coffee ready. I’ll bring Nico his, knowing it will get cold. But he likes cold, old coffee- something I hate and love about him at the same time. I need it scorching hot and sweet. We can always tell who’s cup is who’s based on the color of the liquid, but sometimes to tease me, he takes a sip of mine then spits it out dramatically in the sink. “Next time just make yourself hot chocolate you pretender.” He usually says, then nips at my lips like they’re his for the taking. 

My body pulses to be back with him, so I balance our coffees in my hands then head back to our bed. Nico has stretched himself over onto my side of the mattress. His pillow is crumbled in his crossed arms, head on top, as he keeps himself as close as possible to my pillow. Even in his sleep, he waits for me, keeping space for my body to slide in next to his. I reach over to set our cups down, then fold myself into the opening of the bed.

I grab my book, sliding my bookmark out of it’s place. My glasses are slipped onto the bridge of my nose and then with my cup securely in my hand, I find myself getting lost in a new fantasy romance book. Nico stays close to me the entire time. Eventually, his head ends up on my stomach. Then his whole body rolls between my legs. My thighs practically wrap around his neck as he wiggles himself in deeper to my skin.

After I finish my coffee, my fingers find their usually home in Nico’s long hair. I scratch along his scalp, helping him drift off back to sleep until soft puffs of air tease my skin. I shove the comforter off my legs as much as possible because Nico is keeping me warm without the extra cloth. 

When my stomach growls three times in a row, Nico finally forces himself awake. His head lulls back, eyes looking up at me with their sleepy glow. The hand with my book in it falls away to the other side of the bed so I can see him completely.

“Hi sleepy.”

“Hi sunshine.” He responds with a rough coating of sleep on his voice.

Slowly, I help him wake up by rubbing at his skin. I hand him his coffee cup and he rests it on my thigh then takes a generous slurp. That seems to invigorate him because he peels himself off of me and starts to stretch his body out. 

I rub his back as he slumps forward, scrubbing at his face. The sound of his few days of stubble fills the room with his movements. Then he turns to me, eyes peaking out through small slits of his fingers. 

“I am going to take over the kitchen today to work on something. You stay here.”

“Oh okay.” I chuckle. I wasn’t planning on leaving this bed for awhile yet. And while I’m curious, I know better than to ruin a Nico surprise. It’s usually worth the wait.

After a generous morning kiss, Nico rolls out of bed for good, tugging on some fresh clothes before disappearing with a backwards hat over his hair and a swipe of his keys off the dresser in our room. Shortly after, I hear the apartment door open and close. He returns about an hour later, depositing a chicken caesar wrap into my hands from our favorite deli before shutting the door and leaving me to my book. I appreciate that because things are really starting to intensify. I know I have to finish this one today. 

It takes the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening. As I read, smells of garlic, onion and herbs float down to the bedroom. At various points in the day, Nico comes in with snacks or drinks to replenish the reading nook we’ve created on the bedside table. Each time, I’m in a different position on the bed. The one that makes him laugh the most is when he sees me with my feet on the wall above the headboard. He’s upside down when our eyes connect.

“Have you ever tried, this one!?” I joke. 

“No, but open to it.” He smirks. His lips float over mine, kissing me from above. My nose bumps the underside of his chin for a moment before he pulls away. “Checking to see if you need anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you, babe.” 

“Mhm. I’ll be ready for you in probably a half hour.”

“Okay.” I nod. That should be good timing. 

The ending of the book wrecks me because, of course my favorite supporting character dies tragically in a ball of fire trying to save his lover. I openly weep, wiping my eyes away as the book ends with a vengeful declaration of war. Book four is going to be epic and probably break my heart into more pieces than the series already has. But I have a perfect, very real man who puts those pieces back together again. 

I open the bedroom door, wiping the tears away with the sleeves of Nico’s sweatshirt on me.

“Oh no.” He pouts.

“He died! She really killed him off!”

“Is he like.. maybe seemingly dead but not?” Nico questions as he opens his arms for me to settle into.

“No, babe. He went poof.” I mimic smoke with my fingers then crash my head into his chest.

“Terrible. I’m so sorry, baby.” He kisses the top of my head gingerly. I look over at the stove, seeing my large dutch oven on one of the burners. It’s white with gold accents, a gift Nico got for me after he accidentally dropped my original dutch oven in the sink causing it to crack.

“Is that…?” I pulling away to look at his face. He beams proudly at me.

“I think I did good.”

“It smells like you did.” I murmur. “Can I see?”

“Yeah.” He nods, bringing me over to the stove. He uses a hot pad to lift the lid off and beneath it is my family’s infamous Sunday Sauce. I usually make this once a month for us, but didn’t have time to grab anything after such a long, exhausting week at work. Nico must have made the run earlier. It didn’t cross my mind, even when he handed me the wrap. My mouth salivates at the smell of everything mingling together and steaming in the warm pot. “Can’t taste it yet. I just did and it’s not ready.” 

“Okay.” 

“How about some wine while we wait?”

“Speaking my language as usual, Neeks.” I jump up onto the counter, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard then folding myself into a pretzel there as Nico pours us each a glass. While we wait for the sauce, we talk about the upcoming week. I pout about the weekend being so close to over and Nico politely reminds me that we still have tonight. He distracts me with talks of watching whatever movie I want and informs me he did get the cannolis I love so much from the Italian market. 

“You think of everything.” 

“Those long books you love so much always mean you need a lil sweet treat after.”

“Well if the bitch, affectionate, would stop killing people off…” I roll my eyes playfully. 

“Affectionate.” Nico guffaws towards the ceiling. 

“And she made him die saving the love of his life!” I swing my arms to the side exasperatedly. “How sad is that!?” My wine sloshes in my cup, a bit over and onto the counter. Nico grabs a sponge and soaks it up before it can stain anything. 

“A tragic love story. But he went out doing the honorable thing, no?”

“You would die to save me?” I say skeptically.

“Without question.” Nico shrugs his big shoulders. “Would do anything to keep you safe.” 

“I would be so mad at you. If you die, I want to die too.” Nico chuckles. “Seriously! You can't leave me here in this world alone, Nico Hischier.”

“That is so dramatic and unreasonable, even for you, my love.” He kisses my nose, then wanders over to the pot. He pulls off the heavy lid, beginning to slowly stir everything together, getting ready for another taste.

“If I died would you find someone else?” I ask him after another sip of wine.

“No.” He answers immediately.

“Good. I want you to be alone forever.” Nico snorts at my honesty.

“I hate talking about this.” He reminds me.

But I love it and my imagination runs wild on Sunday nights when I don’t want to go back to work. I do dream of throwing it all away and being Nico’s hot, trophy wife. He would support that. But we both know I would hate it, so until I burn myself out in corporate America, I’ll keep grinding and commuting in New York.

“Would you try to move on?”

“Babe.” Nico sighs, rubbing at the end of his nose with the back of his hand. He finally lifts his eyes from the sauce to mine. “I might, but I could never love anyone the way I love you.”

“Good boy. Blowie for you tonight.” 

He hits a subtle fist pump in the air as he purses his lips in his way that highlights his deep dimples.

“Ready to taste?”

“Yes, chef.” I stick my tongue out, wagging it at him. 

“Gonna give you something to stick that on later.”

“Yas, daddy.” I wrinkle my nose cutely at him, almost hissing at him in a playful banter.

“Stop it.” Nico chuckles. I don’t miss the slight adjustment to his sweatpants though.

He dips the wooden spoon into the sauce, gathering up a bite of it. He walks slightly to his left where I am curled up on the counter. He pauses there, gently blowing on the red liquid. He raises it slightly to his lips, feeling for the steam. When he is sure it’s safe, he glides it to my lips. I take a proper taste, then sigh heavenly at the depth of the sauce. The salt, garlic, and tomatoes have married with the fresh basil and if I didn’t know better, I might think Nico was part Italian with how well this has come together. 

“Outstanding. Better than mine.” I pat his butt in celebration.

“No, no, no.” Nico shakes his head immediately. “Nothing is better than yours, baby. You make it with so much love. Can’t be replicated.” He sets the spoon off to the side then turns the heat down even lower. “What kind of noodles?”

“Rigatoni!” I cheer. Nico is already pulling that box out. 

To be known is to be loved and Nico is truly the best at that.

I watch him get out a large steel pot. He heavily salts the water like I do and brings it to the stove. He turns it on, then goes back to the sauce, giving it a stir so it doesn’t sit too long and burn. My lips curl into a sweet, adoring smile. He clocks it quickly, coming over with a smirk and giving me a kiss. It’s a passionate one. I hook my legs around his waist and he pulls me off the counter. 

“You.” He brushes my lips again. “Need to get outta my kitchen or we are not going to eat dinner.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I have plans for you later that I need carbs for.” He drops me onto the couch, then tosses the throw blanket over me. “Find us something to watch.” He flicks his fingers at the TV.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

I hide my grin behind the soft blanket then do as I’m told. 

Cause I’m Nico Hischier’s good girl.

And I’m not about to disappoint him now.

Monday

Barely awake, I untangle myself from Nico’s arms to turn off the alarm on my phone. It’s quietly reminding me that although one of us gets to play hockey for fun, the other has a less exciting job to navigate back to today. Reality descends and I swear our bedroom has a cold, grayish tinge to it.

I sit on the edge of the bed, hands folded in my lap, trying to gather up the energy and willpower to get in the shower. My hair is wild and greasy. I can feel dried drool on the edge of my lip. Yet, behind me, a gorgeous Swiss captain slides himself across the bed so he can dig his face into my side. I pat his head, scratching his scalp for a few minutes. His nose rubs the outside of my thigh and he sighs as contently as a happy, jobless puppy would.

Before I get up, I lean down to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums in response. Then I peel myself from his arms for a second time already. 

He makes it harder to leave bed than it needs to be.

I take a shower, longer than I should but the warm water felt delicious and comforting. My body soap smelled extra inviting and the shampoo massage I gave to myself had me relaxing until nothing was really a priority. Thus I’m now running late, which has me crashing around our bedroom and bathroom trying to get ready quickly so I can catch my train into the city.

“Oh, fuck.” I mutter as I almost fall over putting my dress pants on. I have to grab the door to steady myself, making it slam into the wall. “Shit.”

“You good?” I hear Nico call groggily.

“Yeah.” I respond. “Babe, do you think you could get up and start some coffee for me?” I call out to him. I still have to get my make up on and finish styling my hair. 

“Mhm, of course.” He responds, sounding slightly more awake. I can hear him get out from under the comforter. He walks by the closet door, only in boxer briefs until he grabs his discarded lounge clothes from last night on the chair in the corner. Then his feet scuffle out of the room. 

In the meantime, I fly through my make up as fast as I can. My hair does not want to cooperate with a blow out. So I get it as styled as it will go and turn off my Dyson with a huff. It looks presentable enough. At least it isn’t greasy and matted down anymore. I slide on Nico’s favorite lipstick to get me a couple extra goodbye kisses, then head out to the main area to meet him. Along the way, I grab my work bag from the entry way, double checking everything is in place from Friday. I toss my keys and my wallet from my purse into it. After, I grab a few snacks from the panty and some oatmeal. 

“God damn.” Nico suddenly mutters when I lean down to the bottom level to grab the extra box of granola bars. “Your ass in those pants could send me to an early grave right now.” I giggle, looking over my shoulder at him to see his brown eyes feasting on my butt. He folds his bottom lip between his teeth as I stand back up, slowly raking his gaze up my body. “Coffee is ready.”

“Thank you so much.” I sigh happily, seeing he has already put it in my to-go cup. “You are the best.” I shake my head dramatically as I say it, then throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Love that color on you, beautiful.” He says immediately seeing my lips. We kiss hungrily in the middle of the kitchen as the world moves on with their Mondays.

“What’s the cost of the coffee?” I ask as we pull apart. My lipstick is smeared on his lips and a bit on his chin. I slide my thumb over it there, rubbing it off. Nico grabs my wrist, then works our fingers to lace together.

“A dance.”

“Oof. I don’t know that I have time for that. Rain check?”

“No. Payment must be given before you go. Those are the rules at Nico’s Coffee Hut.” I laugh, searching his incredibly smug face.

“You are so cute. But Neeks, I really have to go.”

“No, you need to dance with me. Right now.” He pulls me away from the counter. “Whatever the consequences are, I’ll take them for you.” He whispers against my lips. “Dance with me.” 

That tone, with those gorgeous brown eyes, evaporates the worries about walking in late. I bargain with myself too- it’s not like I have any meetings this morning. Nico begins to sway us gently and I give in completely.

Tucked into his arms like this is the only place I truly belong in this world.

I’ll take weekends with Nico over anything else for the rest of my life.

More hockey fics of mine are here for your enjoyment.

[pankowcrumbs]

Got That Out of Your System, Princess? x Harry Styles

MasterList

Harry Styles Masterlist

I’d like to think that I’m not the type of person who holds a grudge.

But when Harry and I had a petty little argument one of those stupid ones where neither of us could remember what we were even actually arguing about I found myself feeling a little... spiteful.

Not in a serious way. Just in a maybe I’ll cause a little chaos way.

Harry was overseas doing press interviews, and I was back home, stewing in my own irrational irritation. It wasn’t even a real fight. Something about whether or not he should’ve texted me or called me when he arrived at the hotel. I had been worried when I hadn't heard back but he was tired and It was stupid.

But still, my pride wouldn’t let me drop it.

So, I did the most ridiculous, over-the-top thing I could think of I took his credit card he gave me for emergencies and went on a spending spree from hell.

If he was going to make me feel petty, I was going to make him pay for it. Literally.

First, I strolled into a high-end boutique, the kind where the employees give you a once-over to decide whether you belong there. I had Harry Styles’ black Amex in my hand I belonged.

£50,000 later, I had bags full of entirely unnecessary designer clothes.

Then, I wandered into a car dealership and test-drove the most obnoxious luxury vehicle I could find. Sleek, fast, completely impractical.

“Would you like to discuss financing?” the salesman asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

I smiled sweetly. “Oh, no need. I’ll pay in full.”

That was another £100,000.

And finally, the pièce de résistance I bought a horse.

A real-life horse.

Do I know how to ride a horse? No.

Do I own any land or a stable? Also, no.

Did that stop me from dropping £10,000 on the most majestic looking stallion I could find? Absolutely not.

Petty? Yes.

Justified? Also yes.

By the time I got home, I was buzzing with the thrill of my absolutely ridiculous spending spree.

I had no idea how Harry was going to react. Maybe he’d be mad. Maybe he’d be so confused that he’d forget he was supposed to be annoyed at me.

Either way, I felt very pleased with myself.

Meanwhile…

Harry was finishing up an interview when his phone started vibrating relentlessly in his pocket.

He ignored it at first, but when he checked his notifications and saw five missed calls from his accountant, he knew something was up.

As soon as he was out of the studio, he called back, bracing himself for whatever financial catastrophe was awaiting him.

“Harry, mate, I have to ask are you okay?” his accountant’s voice was practically breathless with panic.

Harry frowned. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because there are outrageous charges on your account! Did you buy a £100,000 car today?”

Harry blinked. “...No.”

“Right. Did you spend £50,000 on clothes?”

Harry smirked, already catching on. “Nope.”

There was a long, exhausted sigh on the other end of the line. “And please, for the love of God, tell me you did not order a purebred racing horse.”

At that, Harry let out a loud, full-bodied laugh.

“Ahh,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’ll be my future wife throwing a tantrum.”

The accountant spluttered. “Harry, she bought a horse.”

He laughed again, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, she’s a dramatic little thing, isn’t she?”

There was a beat of silence before the accountant sighed again, utterly defeated.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

Harry grinned. “Let her charge whatever she wants.”

“You do realise she spent a ridiculous amount of money, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, still thoroughly amused. “Actually, could you sort out a stable for that damn horse while you’re at it?”

His accountant made a noise like he was about to quit on the spot.

Harry was still chuckling as he hung up and immediately dialled my number.

When my phone rang and I saw Harry’s name, I hesitated for a split second.

Then I answered.

“Got that out of your system, princess?”

I winced slightly. “You, um... noticed?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “Oh, I noticed. My accountant nearly had a heart attack.”

I bit my lip, feeling a little guilty. “I may have gone... slightly overboard.”

“Oh, slightly, yeah?” he teased, still entirely unbothered. “You spent six figures just to prove a point, love.”

I groaned, flopping onto the bed. “I was just being stubborn! You know I never spend your money, and I...I just wanted to be petty!”

“I know,” he said, warmth in his voice. “And honestly? It was hilarious.”

I blinked. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

Harry snorted. “Mad? Sweetheart, you just threw the most expensive tantrum I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s iconic.”

I let out a breathy laugh, feeling my tension ease. “I am sorry, though.”

“I know you are.”

I hesitated. “You really don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he promised. “You could’ve bought ten horses and I’d still just be here thinking about how much I love you.”

My heart fluttered at that. “I love you too.”

“Good,” he said softly. “Now, about this horse...”

I groaned. “Yeah... about that...”

“Darling, where are you even planning to keep it?”

I bit my lip. “Is your accountant’s handling that?.”

Harry laughed again, long and hard. “Of course he is.”

There was a pause before he added, “You do realise this means you’re coming horse-riding with me now, right?”

My eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Harry smirked. “Oh, you think you can just buy a horse and not ride it? Nah, love, we’re gonna be equestrian professionals by the end of this.”

I groaned, but I was smiling like an idiot. “You’re impossible.”

“And you are the most dramatic, expensive little menace I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving.”

I laughed. “That’s me.”

He chuckled again, voice low and affectionate. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be home soon.”

And just like that, everything was right again.

I sighed happily. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, my insanely expensive princess.”

Two weeks later, I found myself at a stable, standing in front of my very expensive, very large, very real horse.

Harry stood beside me, grinning from ear to ear.

“So,” he said, nudging me. “Shall we go for a ride?”

I turned to him, utterly deadpan. “I hate you.”

He just laughed, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and whispered, “Love you too, sweetheart.”

[whyyousoloudfor]

TikTok Prank.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: ????

Peaking your head into the kitchen, you see Lewis’ back is turned causing you to smile mischievously. This is perfect for the little prank you have planned for him. It’s a trend on TikTok you’ve seen girls try on their boyfriends and you thought it was hilarious, so why not try it on yours. You step into the kitchen, unlocking your phone camera before propping it up against Lewis’ water bottle that’s study enough for the phone to not tip over. You make sure the camera is angled perfect then press the record button. Lewis’ is so focused chopping up vegetables for dinner and softly singing to the music playing in the background, he barely knows what’s going on behind him. You sneak up to him and snake your arms around him from behind, your cheek pressed again his t-shirt clad back.

“Hi baby.” You say sweetly, tightening your around him, snuggling into him. He slightly jumps, startled by your actions then relaxes in your touch putting down the knife to gently grab one your hands bring it up to his soft lips. “Hi, my sweet girl.” He responds back in the same tone. He places my hand back down and resumes chopping the veggies. You bite down on your lip holding back your laughter for what you’re about to say next. In a serious tone you say, “Honey, we have to talk. I have something to tell you.” You remove arms from around him and wipe your palms down the legs of your jeans before placing them in your back pockets. He drops the knife on the counter again turning around to give you his undivided attention, his facial expression laced with concern. Looking down at your feet, you avoid looking up at him because you know if you look, you will feel bad enough to back out of the plan. Lewis takes a few steps towards you, cupping your face in his hands making you look up at him. His eyes intensely watch you as his thumbs stroke your cheekbones.

“What’s wrong, baby? You pregnant or something? Somebody died?” He pauses for a moment. “If it’s about your leftovers you had in the fridge, it wasn’t me, it was Roscoe!” You both burst out into laughter. “Poor Roscoe, it be your own dad. But no, it’s none of that.” You say, getting back into character. “Then what is it?” He says, removing his hands to grab both of your hands, intertwining y’all fingers.

“I can’t pay the mortgage this month.”

You stare up look at him waiting for his reaction. His eyes are focused to the view behind you through the large glass slide door that leads into the backyard. He stays silent for a few second, his eyes cut back to yours narrowing with his head tilted slightly. “What did you just say?”

“Babe, I can’t pay the mortgage this month. I’m sorry.”

His head jerks back and drops your hands placing a tattooed hand over his heart. He’s offended. “Angel? You? Pay a mortgage? Be so fucking for real.” You try to hold back a giggle, watching him start to pace and forth around the kitchen. You walk up to him grabbing his hand to bring him back into the camera. “Lew, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his waist again resting your chin on his chest. “Sweetheart…” he starts. “Do you even know what a mortgage looks like? Do you even know what a damn bill looks like? Don’t embarrass me, baby.” The answer to that is No. You don’t know what any of that shit looks like and you don’t want to. Lewis wouldn’t allow it anyway. He continues his rambling, “I’d rather mop the fucking ocean than let you pay any bill around me, don’t piss me off, Y/F/N.” You reach up to cover his mouth with your hands before he goes any further. You couldn’t help but break character and burst into fits of laughter.

“It’s a prank, baby! Off TikTok.” You say hunched over as you continue to laugh and point at the phone recording on the counter. Lewis looks over at the phone. He brings a hand up to his chest letting out a sigh of relief, pulling you in to him by your waist. He plants several kisses on your forehead then mumbles, “Angel, toktik almost got you knocked out.” You smile, leaning into him as you feel his lips on your skin. The prank was a success.

“I know and it was worth it, your reaction was priceless.”

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave your thoughts, comments and feedback in my inbox. I’ll even take requests.

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[7: ex’s and oh…]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: could ellie be anymore confusing?? is she even worth the headache? i mean you do have better options…. particularly a blonde who invited you to a ball….. or maybe a particular masked vigilante….?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I thought you were over Abby,” Gwen arched her brow as she held up another dress against her and looked in the full length mirror opposite where you sat.

“I-I am.. I think but.. I don’t know, Gwen, I can’t keep waiting around for Ellie to wake up,” you grumbled and shook your head at the dress Gwen was holding, “No, that colours hideous.”

“Yeah.. kinda reminds me of the dress I wore in sixth grade, remember that? I threw up all over it.. ugh, now I’m nauseous,” you giggled as you made your way over to help her look through dresses, “Hey, are you not gonna get a new dress?”

You held up a dress to Gwen, “Nah, Markus is making me one, he said something about me being free advertising, wearing one of his dresses around all those snobs will do his work some justice by bringing attention to it,” you hung the dress back up.

“Ugh, lucky…” Gwen whined and flopped back onto the couch, “Not only are you getting a dress customed made for you, you have one of the hottest girls taking you to the ball? Your life is like a fucking drama, like Gossip Girl or something.”

“Lucky isn’t what i’d call it.”

ELLIE’S POV:

Ellie bit the cap of her pen, trying desperately to pay attention to what the professor was saying but her mind was still reeling from what Jesse had told her a few days prior.

After arriving at Jesse’s apartment, he pulled up a video of another Spider-Man..? They looked very identical to Ellie but.. their suit was all black and looked almost liquid, not to mention this ‘Spidey’ looked bigger.. more threatening than her. News sources around the city were saying that Spidey had wen ‘Back to Black’ which she did appreciate the pun but it didn’t make sense at all because she had never owned a black suit previously and on top of that, this Spidey seemed to be better than her.. they were stronger, faster but at the same time.. they were rougher and seemed almost animalistic in their movements.. not to mention, they looked a little too familiar for Ellie’s taste.

“Ellie? Hellooooo?”

Ellie nearly jumped out of her skin, “Y-yeah? What’s up?”

“I said class was dismissed,” the profesor chuckled and roughly pat her on the back, causing Ellie to let out a little ‘oof.’

“Yeah, sorry.. I was distracted..”

“My dear girl, you should go back home, I’ll even extend the deadline on the final essay for you, just.. just don’t tell anyone okay? It’s really not a secret anymore but you’re by far my favourite in this class, hell, maybe even the whole school,” he chuckled and waved his hand as he made his easy down the stairs, “I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee.”

“Bye professor,” Ellie smiled softly, momentarily distracted from the dire situation at hand.

Gotta find them before things get outta hand.

YOUR POV:

Abby: Did you get your dress?

You: ya

Abby: I’ll pick you up at 8 tmrw

You: k

Abby: don’t sound so enthusiastic

You: k

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone down next to you, you so did not want to go to this stupid ball. You grumbled and sat up, knowing that you should probably get something to eat, so you tossed on your favourite Spider-Man hoodie and some warm jeans and sneakers to head downstairs. You had made a little extra this month, so you decided to treat yourself to your favourite food.

You plugged your ears with your airpods and stepped into the chilly street.

“Shoulda worn a warmer jacket,” you muttered and made your way through the somewhat empty streets, shoving your hands deep into your pockets and humming softly along to the song blasting through your headphones.

The crisp night air soothed your reeling mind, almost cleansing it of Ellie and Abby.

To get to the restaurant, you had to pass through a couple alleys… you knew you shouldn’t, you could get robbed… or worse but part of you knew that wouldn’t happen because you had your guardian angel on your side.. right?

You weaved your way through garbage bags, potholes, and dumpsters. There were a few bums here and there but most were either drunk out of their minds or poor down on their luck business men.

The echoes from your hums bounced off the walls and back to you as you walked.

Fuck, this is reckless… maybe I shouldn’t be doing this..

You shove your hands deeper into your pockets and chew on your inner cheek… this was reckless but you needed to know if he would come.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even see the approaching shadow behind you until you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. Jumping with a yelp, you spun around with a smile on your face.

“I thought you’d never sho—,” your smile is quickly wiped off your face when you come face to face with a tall gangly man, his eyes red from too much alcohol, his breath sour with beer and cigarettes, and face bloated from too many drunken nights.

“Well, here I am,” he smiles crookedly and brings a knobby hand up to his chin, rubbing at the stubble there, his beady eyes roaming over your finger, clearly sizing you up.

You feign a polite chuckle, “Sorry, I-I thought you were someone else..”

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be, sweetheart.”

Ew.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you scoff and turn around to head back down the alley.

“Come on! I’m a great actor,” his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you closer.

“Hey look, I’m not fucking interested,” you say through gritted teeth.

His smile never wavers, “Why the fuck are you acting like such a bitch?” He pulls you even closer, you can feel his vile breath against your neck and a slimy hand snaking itself around your waist.

“Get off!” you yell and stomp your foot down onto his foot before pulling your knee back up and slamming it into his balls.

The man keels over, “You fucking bitch!”

You roll your eyes, raising your leg to kick him again but quickly withdraw your leg when the man pulls out a gun. Before the man could pull the trigger he’s pushed against the wall by an… invisible force…..or..? Is that webs..? You take a step closer, your eyes peering into the darkness, making out two figures, one on top and pummeling it’s arm into the pulp on the ground, the sound of grunts and please to ‘stop’ echoeing throughthe once hum filled alleyway.

Suddenly the cries stop and you feel another hand on your shoulder, you screamed and spun around.

“Woah, woah, calm down! It’s just me, you can put that er.. uh, pepper spray away?” Spidey chuckled and nodded at your glitter bottle of pepper spray that definitely would not have worked.

“H-Holy shit!” you yell exasperatedly, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” he yelled, you totally weren’t expecting that..

“W-What are you—?”

“You could’ve been seriously hurt!” Spidey yells and puts his hands on his head, “God, are you that reckless?”

“I-I was going t-to get d-d-dinner,” you cry.

Spidey puts his hands down, letting out a sigh, “Then come on.. let’s get your dinner.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[A/N: so sorry for the delay, a sequence of events happened that prevented me from having access to this account and giving me time to write, next chapter will be longer :p]

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou @ilovewomenfr @abbyswh0r3

[oceantornadoo]

staring problem (john price x f!reader, same rank!!)

the visiting weapons specialist was droning on and on, fifteen minutes over his allotted time slot. you should have been paying attention, at least taking notes, but that was hard to do with john price’s glare seeping into the side of your face.

you chanced a side glance and there it was again, steely blue eyes tracking your every movement. his posture uptight and perfect, hands collected in front of him like a king on a throne. he was poised to strike and you dreaded it, could tell by the way his body charged up like preparing for war. like you were the mission.

“thank you for that informative presentation. we’re dismissed for the day. captain, i’d like a word.” he refused to name you under the guise of professionalism, a worse sign. you packed up your belongings as everyone left, hiding shaking hands under the table as you fiddled with your pockets.

“c’mere.” you shook your head no, instead slumping backwards in your chair, eyes trained on the ceiling. john sat back too, content to watch you let down your captain’s mask in front of only him. “captain…” “don’t captain me, john. it’s not going to work.” you scoffed. “you’ve got a staring problem, you know. thought i had something on my face the first twenty minutes of that presentation.” he hummed in thought. “come over here an’ fix it.”

you stomped over, purely out of frustration rather than flirtation. you tried to stop a good foot away, a respectful distance between two captains, but he reached out and tugged you in by your belt loop, trapping you between him and the table. he didn’t let go once he got you there, a heavy hand resting on your hip, his finger twisted in your belt loop. what an arrogant, presumptuous man.

“y’ve been avoiding me.” you tried to look down to your boots but instead made eye contact with his lap, strong thighs straining under woven fabric. what a terrible view. “i’m being a professional.” he squeezed your hip. “is tha’ what friday was? professional?”

“this isn’t very professional, john.” you whispered, almost knocking over the half-empty bottle of whiskey as you straddled him. he pulled you in closer until your pelvises kissed, his eyes dark in the moonlight of his office. “‘s alright, sweetheart, we’re off the clock.” he leaned in to kiss you but you stopped him with a hand to his chest. “no- no kissing on the lips, okay? i can’t, i’m sorry.” he frowned, then leaned in again, lips touching your neck in a sorry imitation of a first kiss.

“friday was a mistake. we were drunk and alone, right?” he moved his chair closer, your legs trapped almost uncomfortably so as he put himself in your line of sight, furrowed brow and well-trimmed beard. “we weren’t drunk, sweetheart. bit fuzzy, but not drunk.” you weren’t sure how to respond to that, arms akimbo at your sides as you planned a way out of this conversation. his free hand grabbed your own, brushing over your worn knuckles before bringing it to his face, entwining your fingers in his beard.

“i like your beard, y’know.” the admission rolled off your tongue easily like the two glasses of whiskey before it. “y’do?” you nodded solemnly. “can i tell you a secret, though?” your eyes flicked up at his, your best impression at being seductive without looking it. “can tell me anything.” his tone made you pause. it sounded like a vow, proud and unwavering. “the recruits make fun of it. they call you captain chipmunk.” he raised an eyebrow and it sent you giggling, scooting closer to him on his office couch. “‘s that why you had them running extra laps yesterday?” you bit back a smile. “maybe.”

you felt like a goddess on an altar, john your willing supplicant. your hand in his beard was like a leash, and he gave you control easily. “can’t believe y’ve got a man like me begging, sweetheart.” you scratched his jaw out of pure curiosity and were rewarded with his closed eyes, an invitation to study him without pressure. you traced his early crow’s feet, dark lashes and smile lines, a few silver hairs in his beard. “begging for what?” he opened his eyes, all blue and wanting. “another friday. another night in my office.”

“hips up, sweetheart.” you whined at loss of his warmth on yours. john laid you down on his couch, unbuttoning your pants with reverence. “up now, there we go. there’s a good girl.” he leaned into the juncture of your thighs, beard scratching you gently as he kissed your scars and stretch marks and every piece of skin in between. the sweetness of it was too much, the aching in your core too much to bear. “john, i need you.” he chuckled, callused hands tugging down your underwear. you swore he moaned, low grumbling as he kissed around your pussy, ignoring where you needed him most. “patience, baby. been waitin’ a while f’ this.”

you pulled your hand away, sitting back on the table as you folded your hands neatly in your lap. “john, i can’t. i-“ the conference room door openly suddenly, subordinate voices filling the room. you cringed inwardly at their view: the female captain spread for her male counterpart, a walking stereotype. it didn’t take a genius to guess who you were, even from the back, based on john’s presence. “out. now.” you made to leave at his command but his strong grip forced you back down, that ever present hand at your waist. the sounds of your intruders slowly faded, but you swore you could hear your name echoing through the halls. you dropped your head to your hands, practically shaking at the thought of even more rumors being spread. never mind you were a captain and worked hard to get where you were - any association with a male colleague was a hit to your reputation. you heard john stand, moving your head to his chest, a gentle hand cradling the back of your neck as he stroked the skin there.

“that’s why, john. i can’t be your captain in the daytime and the girl warming your sheets at night. there’s too much at stake for me to risk it.” he was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. you took the time to soak up the ease of his presence, probably for the last time before he rejected you, cheek pressing into the hardness of his body. warm and powerful, a honed machine capable of so much damage, wrapped in soft murmurs and even softer touches. predictably, he pulled away, untethering himself from you. you wrapped your arms around yourself, preparing for impact.

“think i started us off on the wrong foot, sweetheart.” he tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes on his. “should’ve taken you out on a date first.” wait, what? “took the coward’s way out with the whiskey. i should’ve let y’ get dolled up, nice restaurant, the nine yards.” you moved back, out of his reach again. “what are you saying, john? you’re confusing me.” his voice grew bolder. “‘m sayin’ i want you in every way, not just in my bed.” oh.

“i’m not a nonchalant person. i need a lot of attention.” he nodded. “good thing i’ve got a starin’ problem.” you frowned. “but i’m also busy. you can’t expect me to give you all my time.” he huffed. “i’m a captain too, love.” you pulled him in by the belt loop. “and im not going to put out just because of friday. i need seduction.” his hands landed on your hips again. “got years of experience f’ you.” you locked eyes again, finally without any pretense between you.

“y’ gonna give me your lips? not gonna hide again, are you, sweetheart?” you snorted. instead of answering, you tugged him down towards you, capturing his lips with your mouth. the kiss was soft and sweet until you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him into your embrace. he squeezed your hips hard, preventing you from bucking into him. “eager, are we?” you shut him up with another kiss, hard and unwielding. “i think i’m already tired of you, john. you’re very presumptuous.” he pulled you in closer, hands moving under your ass as he tugged you up. “never done with you, love.”

[b33zlebubz]

smoke | simon "ghost" riley | mdni

This was the first (scrapped) draft of a scene from Rigor Mortis, figured I'd tweak it a little and post it as its own independent thing :) enjoy

tags: marijuana usage, gender-neutral reader, sexual themes, soft simon my beloved

Simon’s not entirely sure how he got here.

You both have grown close.  Over the course of several months, maybe, and he’s been too stupid to see this coming, to pay attention to why and when he’s grown as fond of you as he has.  He always thought that maybe it was just because you felt bad for him; the lonely, dark, socially inept wanker down the hallway who’s smoke breaks just so happened to line up with around the same time you got home from work. There's no other reason you'd ever stop to talk to a bloke like him; off-putting and massive and so entirely unapproachable.

And he definitely didn’t expect this—to be standing in his usual spot smoking whenever you to appear next to him.  Still in your work uniform, looking tired and frazzled.  Tense.  Like he’d say one wrong thing and catch the brunt of your bad mood.  

He eyes you up and down.  From the rubber of your boots, stained with what Simon can only assume by the smell is coffee, all the way up your rain-soaked hoodie and exhausted countenance.  You’ve been crying, which isn’t a surprise, you hated your job and weren’t afraid to be vocal about it.  You never cried in front of him.  Denied it every time he asked.  Still, he always knew.

“Rough night?”  He asks, and you don’t reply.  Just sigh and dig into your pocket before pulling out what he can only assume is a vape.  When you join him at the railing and offer it to him, he only waves his cigarette.

“Got my own.”

“It’s weed, Simon,” you huff softly.  “I’m asking if you want to smoke with me.”

He only blinks, at first, and his first instinct is to refuse before he realizes again that oh.  He’s retired.  He can do these things, now.  It’s just a matter of whether or not he wants to.

He tentatively takes the device from your soft hand and inspects it.  Rolls the amber-colored cart between his fingers.  He’s hesitant, and he can feel you looking at him—he’s never touched the stuff.  Always kept his distance in college, not wanting to end up like his parents.  But, now, he supposes there’s worse things.

“You don’t have to,” you chime in.  “Can stick with the norm instead.  Just figured I’d offer.”

He shoots you a look before raising the device to his mouth and taking a deep inhale.  It burns, more than he expected, and he grimaces as he exhales and coughs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, love,”  he rasps, raising a fist to his mouth.

You smile and chuckle,  “what?”

“That shit’s worse than—” he coughs again.  “Cigarettes.”

“It’ll pass,” you say, taking a drag of your own, and the effects kick in immediately.  A buzzy haze over his senses that makes him suspect he’s in for a long night.

He ends up being right.

By the time the sun set over the horizon, he’s proper blasted.  Stoned.  So much so that he doesn’t think he can move, staring up at the ceiling and giggling over nothing with you for hours—something stupid on the TV.  Hell’s Kitchen, he thinks, accepting another shotgun of smoke from your soft mouth.

You seat yourself down in his lap, positioning your legs on either side of him.  He tenses, muscles tightening under you as he inhales a deep, slow, shaky breath at the gesture—sitting back against the couch.  But, still, he doesn't stop you.  He doesn't touch you.  He just…watches.  Brown, hazey eyes flicker up to your face.  There's a certain longing there, and maybe it's the weed, but he's staring at your lips.

"This okay?" You breathe, smiling, and he nods.

"Yeah," he says, voice hoarse from coughing, and his arms pull you close before he can stop himself. You're just so soft. "You're warm."

He shuts his eyes, breathing.  Listening to your laugh as he nuzzles his face into the hood of the sweater you stole from him an hour ago. It makes him smile, makes a chuckle bubble up from somewhere deep before he can stop it, and he's no longer sure if it's the smoke making him feel giddy. Lately, it felt as if you just had that effect on him.

Grounding. You've always been grounding.

"Simon," you whisper, and suddenly there's a hand cradling the side of Simon's face, under his mask.  The softness of your thumb scrapes against his stubble and finally breaks him from his daze.

"I'm listening," he replies, softly.  Muffled, as you coax his face from your shoulder to look at you.

"I want to kiss you."

The words make his heart jump, make him freeze to the couch he sits on. It takes a few seconds for his mind to shut down, to reboot and power back up to reply.

"The mask's gotta come off first, love."

Your gaze is soft. Heavy-lidded and curious as you tilt your head up at him, smiling still.

"Simon," you whisper, once more, and Simon swears the room falls away a little more with the way you giggle around his name.  "You should take it off. I wanna see."

He blinks, staring softly down at you.  He doesn't move, doesn't talk…and his blond eyebrows lower.  He lets out a breath and his grip softens.  

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, shaking his head at your antics.  “‘Suppose I’ve tortured you long enough.”

Your thumb slowly creeps up his face under the mask.  His heart still pounds, but the focus has redirected.  The walls don't close in like they usually do, threatening to crush him into oblivion.  Instead, it feels like they might've opened.  Like they don't even exist anymore.

You loop the mask over his ears and pull it off.  Simon shuts his eyes again.   In and out, he breathes, for some reason scared of your reaction.  Your thumb rubs a comforting pattern across his jaw as he opens them again.

"There's…not much to look at," he whispers, for some reason.

"Please," you scoff, tilting your head again.  Your thumb brushes past a small scar that cuts into his stubble.  He watches your hazey eyes take in the other scar under his eye, his twice-broken nose, and the lip Soap had split earlier that week in a sparring match, whenever he visited. "There's plenty to look at."

His chest fills with warmth at your compliments, enough so that he’s rendered speechless.  He hopes the way it spreads through his chest and up his face isn’t too obvious.

Slowly, your face inches closer.  Simon doesn't move, doesn't dare to—but still his heart pounds in the silence and how your touch alights every inch of his chilled skin.  

Your lips meet his.  It's soft, tender.  Sweet.  He's almost too far gone to feel it completely; how your lips migrate to the side of his mouth.  Then across his jaw.  He sighs shakily, leaning his head to give you more access as you place searing kisses down the length of his neck.  Finally at his pulse point, you nip the skin there—and Simon arches his back as a breath escapes him.  He grabs your hips for purchase, letting his head fall forwards against your shoulder—breathing, in and out. 

"Fuck…"  He hisses, dizzy from the affection.

You pause, lifting your head a little, "too much?"

"N-no,"  he breathes, grasping your hips tighter.  "Keep going.  It’s good.”

You smile against his skin, lean in, and do as you’re told.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, nude vids/pics, rape mentioned (somnophilia), gen. sexual content, Panic/Anxiety Attack, forced nudity [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin/Ghost having thoughts?? Unselfish ones?? Luke can’t stop roasting/sassing you [diary entries from Ani] [texting/letters/notes]extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 10th

I think enough time has passed. I think you’re ready to see Ghost again.

I thought it would take longer for you to recover, but as always, the little fawn in you is curious as ever. Quick to forget fear and ready for the newest challenge.

You’ve responded so well to everything. I’m very proud of you.

I’ve been keeping up with my visits, still cleaning, still watching, still following and protecting.

Now that you know of Ghost, I’ve started completing my tasks. I don’t have to leave anything halfway finished, the dishes are done everyday along with the vacuuming and dusting. I even mop twice a week.

And change the cat litter, which might I add, is disgusting. (Worth it though because I love that little menace.)

I thought for sure you’d run and tell me that you didn’t think the alarms I installed weren’t working, but you didn’t, you just repeatedly tested them yourself. It was very loud, very annoying and I know you could hear the woman down the hall banging her pots and pans together to fight back with her own noise. You didn’t care though, you just wanted to make sure the alarms worked.

They do work, I wouldn’t have installed fake ones, that would be stupid. I’m all for keeping you safe so… what’s one more safety measure?

I just know that they can also be very easily disarmed. Even through the inch and a half thick wooden door to your apartment. A piece of sheet metal (credit card sized) and my handy dandy super strength magnet works like a charm.

You’re such an odd bird. You haven’t told anyone, I don’t think it’s really even crossed your mind too much either. You’ve begun to pretend the cameras aren’t even there. You just go about your normal day to day life and occasionally squint and stare at random objects.

You never actually go check them out though. Is it all for show? I think it might be.

I think you like being watched. I bet it makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Knowing I’m always there for you?

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

Ghost will let me love you in the way that is natural and normal to me. I just hope that you’ll be willing to accept that we are one in the same.

Ghost can comfortably do all the things that I’ve been afraid to. I didn’t want to scare you, but it really was difficult not to leave you things. I’m so glad that you brought that up in your list of questions because it gave me the opportunity to act on it without you flipping out.

Do you like them? I love leaving things for you. Especially little notes.

Ghost has been kind enough to stay out of your way when I’m around, but I can resist making you squirm occasionally. Remember when I left you a note, KNOWING I’d be coming home with you later that day?

Oh babe. It was so oddly intoxicating to see the way you reacted when I got back home and pulled up the footage. You snatched up that slip of paper didn’t read it and didn’t toss it in the trash, didn’t put it in your pocket.

You shoved it in your mouth so I wouldn’t see it. Freak.

I saw it all chewed up and gross in the bathroom trash. You didn’t read it. I know you didn’t. So I’ll have to get alittle more creative.

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

For the third morning in a row you woke up to a text from your own cellphone number.

‘Sleep well deer?’

Idiot. Can’t even spell. So finally on this third day, you sent a text back and corrected him.

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

Oh great, so stalkers use emojis and he’s given you a nickname. How cute.

You laid back in your bed and tossed your phone aside, hands covering your face as you rubbed the sleep away.

The longer this went on, the more insane you felt. This wasn’t normal, of course it’s not normal. So why are you allowing it?

You could ask yourself that a million times and you’d never find an answer.

You could throw away every flower he brought you and they’d still keep coming. You could burn every piece of paper in the city and chew every pen until it’s broken beyond repair and he would still find a way to write you a note.

You could swallow every word he writes, throw it up, flush it, whatever. It’s just going to pop back up. Gross and soggy with an amendment attached and in your panty drawer.

You thought maybe it was an important one. So you read it. Quickly discovered it was semi-important, Ghost just wanted to remind you that he loved you and he was proud of you for continuing to drink your tea even though you knew it was drugged. Once you’re out of it, he’s going to set the pills out next to your birth control. So he ‘doesn’t have to fool with measurements anymore’.

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

You could ignore the trinkets, the jewelry or the pretty stones and shells. But he would just move them to a different spot and force you to eventually set it in your jewelry box along with all the others.

He’s not been bold enough to come around with Anakin in your home. The nights that Anakin sleeps over, there are no gifts, no cleaning done. No disturbances.

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

He’s left you one note at Anakin’s apartment, the first time you’d slept away from your own home in ages. Ghost had the audacity to slip a note into the pocket of your shorts while you slept in the same bed as Anakin in his apartment.

It didn’t say anything, no words, just a heart in red ink. Like he just wanted to remind you that he was there and you were his whether you wanted to be or not. Anakin or no Anakin, Ghost didn’t care.

It’s been horrible lying… omitting the truth to Anakin. Sometimes you feel like blurting it out, but something always stops you. Morbid curiosity maybe. Or maybe you just like the thrill of it, that little shiver of adrenaline you get every time he makes himself known.

It would all stop if you told Anakin. Neither would quit until he’d hunted the other man down and gotten rid of him.

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

Anakin worked tonight, so you had plans to meet up with Luke (sans his pet leech) for a late evening dinner. As much as you loved Han and appreciated everything he did for Luke, how happy he made him, you really just wanted some time alone with your best friend.

So you were thrilled to receive a text around 1:00pm from Luke:

‘Don’t be late. I’m dying to catch up babe.’

You quickly opened the message but before you finished typing, a voice message popped up in your notifications, sent from your number.

You abandoned the chat with Luke and opted to open the voice message instead.

‘I’m coming home.’ then a long pause, ‘have fun with Lukey.’

That scratchy filtered voice; you’d yet to hear it over the phone and this being the first time… it sent you right back to the very first time you watched Scream. That icy chill that snuck up the back of your neck, the tightening of your chest… you felt it now, just not because of fear.

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

“Okay, seriously what do you keep looking at?” Luke prodded, snatching your phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing it’s just-“

“My phone is on ‘do no disturb’, because I have missed my buddy, my pal, my best friend.” He paused, his pointer finger jabbing the table between your plate and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I haven’t even unlocked it! It’s just sitting there.”

“True, but the obnoxious tapping to check whatever it is you’re hoping for is getting annoying.” Honesty, brutal or not, was Luke’s love language.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in my pocket.” You agreed, holding your hand out palm up.

“No ma’am. This is mine until the check comes.” His answer was definitive, no room for argument there. “What’s so important anyway? I know Anakin is at work.”

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

“Oh? What’s so pressing at the diner?” He scoffed, “got a big shipment of ketchup coming in? Are you ‘on call’?”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes at his jab. “No and yes. I am ‘on call’ actually. Sara’s son has been sick.’

Not a total lie, he has been sick. Poor guy. But her husband was home with him and he was being well looked after.

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

“God you’re so negative sometimes.” You sighed. “Her babysitter hates vomit. If he throws up Sara will have to go home.”

“Ew.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’m eating.”

“Okay? That’s my problem how?” You said mockingly.

“Really? Like for real that’s why you keep checking your phone?”

“Yes really.” Giving him a look that screamed duh’. “Her baby sitter is the 14 year old girl that lives next door to her. Do you really suggest leaving a 14 year old in charge of a vomiting 2 year old? When that 14 year old is disgusted by puke? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

It would be a disaster, her sitter is 14. She just happens to be on vacation with her mother right now. Hence the temporary stay at home husband.

“Okay, first of all, 14? Isn’t that alittle young?”

“No? I started babysitting when I was 12.” You shrugged.

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

He slid your phone back to you and propped his chin up on his fist. Watching you check it one last time before turning on the sound and putting it in your back pocket.

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

You shot off the text to Anakin after saying your goodbye to Luke at the restaurant. You’d refused his offer to walk you home, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment building knowing that Ghost would be there.

Six minutes later he replied:

‘Good girl.🥰 let me know when you get there safe.’

‘Will do💕’

And you did, the moment you stood outside your apartment door.

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

You waited in the hall to receive his response. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of this door, and you didn’t want to chance it.

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

Your hand poised at the door knob, you inserted your key to discover your door was already unlocked. You very slowly opened the door, but saw no one in your kitchen or living room.

But your bedroom door was closed, boogie hadn’t meowed as loudly as possible and sprinted to you, demanding to be fed. He did say that they were good friends. So they both must be in your room.

Would it be wise to lock your door? The few precious seconds leaving it unlocked would save if you needed to run… no, no. Just lock it. Doorknob. Deadbolt. Chain.

‘Just stay calm’

You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag to the floor, walking quietly across the carpeted living room to pause in front of your bedroom. A soft yellow glow shone beneath the door, your lamp must be on. You could hear your tv playing something, not quite sure what it was, but it had the all too familiar cadence of a horror flick.

The audacity of this man astounded you.

When you pushed open the door, he was laying in your bed, shoes off, legs crossed at the ankles, propped against the headboard, arms behind his head. He looked like he belonged there. As big a contrast as it was… your soft, pink, feminine room and him. All black, the mask. He just looked so comfortable.

Your cat, the little traitor, was curled up on his chest. It was kind of sweet. How could such an inherently terrifying scenario seem so normal?

Ever so casually he tilted his head toward you, his right hand raising from its relaxed position to lazily give you gloved finger waggle for a wave.

“Have fun?” The filtered voice drifted over to you.

“Yes.” You answered quietly, glued to the spot.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He laughed. “I would come pick you up, but it’s illegal to move a sleeping cat.” He gestured to boogie who had still not moved from her human pillow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, eyebrows raised in an expression of awe filled shock. This was too weird. Too normal. Too scarily alluring.

Yet you found yourself at the edge of the bed, not really knowing how you got there to begin with.

“Sat you some pajamas out.” He said dismissively, the mask fixed onto the tv screen. “Figured you’d wanna change.”

“Huh.” You snorted, seeing that he had.

You expected to see one of your lacy lingerie sets. But he’d chosen something much more modest that you would’ve ever imagined. Loose, thin, stretchy fabric pajama pants, the matching cropped tank top, and fuzzy socks.

“Um. Thanks?” You said awkwardly, picking them up and turning on your heels to change in the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled.

“To the bathroom?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You can change in here.” He wasn’t offering. He was telling you.

“No way.” You shook your head. “No I’m not-“

“C’mon little doe.” The filtered voice left little room for change in tone, but you could tell from his body language that it was a challenge.

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

“Mmm… not enough. You’re letting me be here. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t mention me to anyone at all actually.” He pointed out.

“Well that’s not-“

“Hush.” He snapped, making you stall. “I’ve seen that pretty little body of yours plenty of times. What’s one more?”

“But-“ your face was so red hot that you could feel the heat spreading down your neck.

“What? I’m not gonna get up.” He said plainly. “I’m comfy right here where I can watch you.”

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this is ‘right’. But you’re letting it happen, yeah?” He said and got just a nod from you in response.

“That’s it.” He moved his arm to point two fingers at you, “get on with it sweetheart. I wanna see my girl.”

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

“Well, that’s not very fair.” Your voice shaking. “I didn’t even know you were…. I didn’t know about you!”

“That might be true.” He growled, “but it’s your fault for being so ignorant.”

“I-I don’t…” you felt like you were on the verge of a tantrum. This man was outrageous, coming into your home uninvited, being a fucking perv, acting like he owns the place, and now he’s calling you ignorant?

“Do you realize how stupid it is for you to argue with me about the morality of all this?” He asked, going back to his former relaxed state.

“You. Are allowing me to be here. You had all day to call the cops if you wanted to. But you didn’t.” That smug little bastard laughed. “I’ve been here for over two hours. You knew I’d be here when you got back.”

“That’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” He held up a finger and silenced you. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine and you will continue to be mine.”

“I don’t care that you are pretending to be appalled by the situation you are in.” His voice was even and unyielding, he was so confident in his statements.

“You know why I don’t care?” He asked, tilting his head toward you condescension oozing from every pore.

“Why?” You squeaked.

“Because I know, without a doubt, that if I were to stick my hand down your pretty pink panties; you’d be wet right now.”

How did he know what color your underwear is? Better question: why is that the first thing you thought of when there were much more pressing matters at hand?

“That’s not true.” Your voice sounded hollow.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “Show me then.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Do it. Prove to me that you’re not soaked.” He snickered.

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

“You’re not running are you? You haven’t said no, you haven’t come over here and smacked me.” He interrupted.

You stood there with your jaw dropped, you needed a dustpan and broom to sweep up your shattered facade of denial. How could you dispute that?

“Fine!” You shouted. “Fine. I’ll just change in here.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He growled. “You’re awfully bold for a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a-“

“When will you stop disagreeing with me?” He laughed. “You know it’s true. I’ve spoiled you so much that you’ve rotted to your core. You weren’t always a brat, but you are now. You like being spoiled don’t you? Being taken care of, being treated like a princess?”

“Your little boyfriend does the same thing doesn’t he?” He snickered. “Spoiled. Brat.”

“You’re just a little girl who needs a man to hold her hand.”

“You’re being mean.” You whispered, your voice breaking.

“The truth is hard to hear isn’t it little doe?” He said, his voice going back to its nonchalant, flat tone.

You couldn’t argue. He’d been right about everything and it’s difficult to argue with someone who throws fact after fact at you like he’s doing. So you took a deep breath and closed your bedroom door.

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

So you did, you turned around and began undressing, you could feel his eyes on you, soaking up the display you were crafting for him.

“Turn around.” His voice alittle quieter, the voice box crackling.

Slowly you complied, swallowing your fear and embarrassment. You kept your eyes closed, it made you feel the slightest bit better, I’m the way a kid would think ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’.

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

Behind your eyelids you swear you noticed a change in lighting, briefly, but enough to take note of. Your eyes snapped open and saw him holding up his phone.

He’d taken a picture of you.

“Ghost, no! Delete that right now!” You squealed, quickly getting dressed in your fresh pajamas.

“Cool it.” He waved you off. “Just gonna add it to my special folder just for you. See?” He turned his screen toward you and you inched forward.

He wasn’t lying. He scrolled through over one hundred images and videos, some of you in public, some nude, some of you sleeping. All in a folder titled ‘little doe’.

“These are for me.” He said simply. “They’re not going anywhere so don’t worry about that.”

“But these…” he turned the screen back to himself and tapped twice, scrolled and then tapped again before flipping it around.

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

You with your hand being held up by Ghost, your fingers buried deeply between your folds.

A short video of your pussy being lovingly stroking by a leather glove. Another of one long digit pumping into you slowly.

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“S-so you did… you did touch me?” You recoiled.

“No.” He said flatly, before you could protest he laughed.

“You loved it.” He snickered. “Never let you cum. I wanted you to be needy for me.”

“Until… until I saw you.” You whispered.

“Mhm, that’s right.” He nodded. “Took care of your poor swollen pussy properly that time.” He cooed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re sick.” You breathed out. “That’s disgusting… you-“

“Call the cops.” He said gesturing to your phone laying on the bed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call ‘em.” He snorted. “If I’m so sick and disgusting and you’re soooo horrified by my actions; call the cops. I’ll wait right here.”

“Are you gonna send those to Anakin?” Your voice wobbled as you ignored his challenge. You both knew you wouldn’t call.

“Not if you’re good.”

“Are you gonna hurt him?” You asked quietly.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” He scoffed. “I want you all to myself, but I want you to choose me. I’m not gonna go all Dexter on your boyfriend.”

“You promise?” You sniffled. “Swear it?”

“Pinky swear.” He said confidently, holding out his hand with his little finger raised.

For some reason you took it. You believed him. He hadn’t gotten up and forced you to do anything, he stayed right there the whole time. He had yet to share those pictures with Anakin. A million other twisted reasons you’d started to accept that this was becoming a new normal. A thousand other things that pushed you to believe him.

He’d only bruised your self image with his cold, hard truths about you. That’s not a crime. That’s a reality check.

“Good choice little doe!” You could practically hear the beaming smile on his face behind the plastic mask.

“Now come up here.” He patted the spot next to him. “I don’t like seeing you upset, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” You repeated in shock.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re on the verge of tears and I’ve caused it.” He said, holding out his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m not a monster.”

You hesitated before accepting his hand and climbing into bed beside him. You sat a safe distance from him at first but he lolled his head to the side in what you assumed was a dramatic eye roll and tugged you to his side in a one armed swoop.

The action had you frozen. This was it. He was gonna hurt you. You’d been naive and stupid and he was going to violate you, this time while you were conscious, you’d remember it this time.

“Relax.” He soothed, tucking you comfortably against his side, his bicep behind your head as a pillow and his gloved hand on your side in a way that was almost comforting. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, what the fuck is happening?

“No, it’s not okay. I could’ve been more gentle with my words.” His opposite hand rubbing his knuckles across your cheek lovingly.

You were quiet for a moment, debating on the course of action you should take. You were in fact very much allowing this to occur. Would it be so horrible to try and enjoy it? He was warm. He smelled nice and familiar, the cologne… you must have a subtle memory of it from all the times he’d been here while you slept. He was comfortable. He was surprisingly kind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Before you get comfy.” He spoke quietly, the voice box crackling from his low voice, “you didn’t take your pill.”

“Oh yeah you’re right.” You moved to get up, pink cheeked because once again he proved that you were in fact helpless without him.

“Don’t get up, I have it right here.” He chuckled, reaching over to the nightstand and handing you the pill packet and a thermos. “Tea.”

“Huh.” You stared at him. Gods this was so fucking weird. “Well… wow okay.” You huffed out a laugh and took your medicine with a sip of your tea.

“Tastes different.” You said, handing the packet back to him.

“Mhm. Yeah I poisoned it.” He said nonchalantly, making you almost choked on your second sip.

“You what?” You shrieked, waking up the cat who bolted from his lap.

“Aw look what you did,” he groaned gesturing to the empty space with a few stray cat hairs.

“You- are you serious?” You started to almost hyperventilate. “Should I make myself throw up?”

Why are you asked the man who poisoned you that? Like he’d tell you.

“No, that would be a waste of good tea.” He snorted. “I put cinnamon in it you idiot.”

“What?”

“Cinnamon.” He repeated. “It’s just cinnamon. It was a joke.”

“That’s not fucking funny!” You shouted, smacking his shoulder.

“Ive already told you once.” His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw firmly. “Do not. Raise. Your voice. At me.” He growled.

“I believe you meant to say ‘ha-ha, ghost that was funny. you got me!’” He snickered and released your jaw, soothing you with his hand now gently raking through your hair.

You were stunned. Absolutely shook by his quick turnaround, this should be terrifying. This man can be so gentle one moment and the next he’s speaking to you like he’s ordering you to lay down at the guillotine. It wasn’t terrifying in the right way. Not the type of fear you should be feeling at his unpredictable actions.

You weren’t scared of him at all. But yourself? Yes. Who is this girl? Why is she… why do you like this? It’s scary because you’re not scared. It’s horrifying because you want more. It’s terrifying because you’re morbidly curious about what he’d do if you acted out again.

You shook your head and picked your jaw off the floor, deciding the best course of action was to just tuck yourself back under his arm and watch whatever movie he had paused when you entered the room.

Might as well. You’ve already come this far.

Date

August 14th

When you woke up the next morning Ghost was gone. Your home was devoid of any trace of him, no note, no gift, no messages. Nothing.

He had hardly moved while you sat with him, the only consistent movement was the gentle twist and twirl of one long lock of your hair around his finger. It was repetitive and soothing, just like the calming rise and fall of his chest.

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

You could’ve turned on him at any moment. Ripped off his mask and saw who he was, grabbed your lamp and wacked him with it. Punched him in the nuts and ran.

But, to be fair, he could’ve done the same to you. Yet you stayed there, albeit anxious and on high alert for majority of the time spent with him. Despite the fact that you knew he carried a weapon, even though you were well aware of what he’d been doing to you all this time, even after he’d manhandled your face when you smarted off to him.

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

Either way, it was wrong and you knew that. You intentionally got naked in front of another man, while he laid on the bed your boyfriend so sweetly makes love to you in. You fell asleep in the arms of this man. Not just *any* other man, the one who has been stalking you relentlessly for months.

You’ve cheated on Anakin. If he knew, it would crush him. It would break apart his big, soft, velveteen heart. Your betrayal would rip a hole right through the middle and slice up the fabric so badly it couldn’t be sewn back up without ending up smaller, weaker, and deformed.

What could you do? Was there anything to do? Telling him to his face… the thought of it soured your stomach so badly you thought you might form an ulcer.

Telling Ghost to fuck off and leave you alone wasn’t an option either. No matter what you did, the precautions you put in place; he would find you. Not only would he find you, but he wouldn’t allow Anakin the privilege of breathing anymore.

You couldn’t tell Luke. He’d lecture you until your ears bled while he dragged you to the nearest police station. Then Luke would be in danger, Anakin would know, and Ghost would still be your problem. And if Luke didn’t believe you, he’d ship you off to the long term care loony bin.

Your sister? Of course you couldn’t tell her either. She has her own family. Ghost already knows where she lives, he’s told you so.

He knows everything about you. Your family tree, your friends list, your schedule, your medical information, banking account, he has complete access to your home, your phone…

You are a canary in a cage and he is a cat pawing at you through the metal bars.

It’s only a matter of time before one of those claws nicks you. A feather or two might come loose, open up a weak spot on your frail body. The next swipe might draw blood, maybe it won’t. Or maybe he’ll be lucky enough to bat you to the bottom of the cage.

It’s hard enough to escape when there’s someone always watching. When there’s a lock on the door. But to attempt to flee with broken wings? You couldn’t hobble your way to safety anyway. Bird cages don’t have doors at the bottom, they’re halfway up. They don’t have horizontal bars. You can’t climb.

You are stuck.

It’s up to you if you want to be trapped there intact, or if you’d rather wallow at the bottom in pain.

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

Ghost said he wouldn’t hurt him, but how long will that last? How long until he gets tired of waiting? Should you ask Ghost again? Just to make sure? Make him sign a fucking contract?

Maybe it would be best if-

“Sweetheart?” Anakin whispered softly, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s going on? I’ve been standing here for almost a minute.”

Anakin was here.

“What?” You whispered back, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of your surroundings.

The diner. You were at The Bluebird. You were working. A glance to the clock told you that you’d been here for over two hours, a quick scan of the tables and the counter proved that you hadn’t neglected any customers. Your notepad and pen were in your hand, there was money in the tip jar.

Anakin was here.

“Hey, c’mere.” His voice soft and concerned.

He gently took the pad and pen from your hands, put an arm around your shoulder and held your hand as he led you through the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, Anakin was well known to everyone at the Bluebird due to his frequent visits to see you. He often walked with you out through the kitchen to sit on the curb with you while you took a break and he smoked a cigarette.

“Vigo, I’m taking her out back.” He said quietly, speaking to the dishwasher.

“I was about to call you man.” He spoke back in a hushed voice. “She’s been actin’ like that since she got here.”

“Yeah? Well next time don’t wait to call.” Anakin grumbled, scowling at your coworker.

The heat of the afternoon sun soothed over your skin, making you painfully aware of the cold sweat lacing the back of your neck. You blinked and it felt like it was the first time you’d closed your eyes in hours. Your mouth was dry, your teeth felt cold and your brain might’ve been better described as soup.

Anakin sat down on the curb and pulled you down with him. Placing you sideways between his legs, your arms immediately threw themselves around his neck and you curled up into him.

“Jesus baby.” He whispered, the wind getting knocked out of him at your aggressive tackle.

“An-” You started to sob before you even finished his name.

“W-what’s wrong?” You could feel his heart beat quicken beneath you, hear it pounding in his chest. He was feeling real, true panic.

“Hey, hey talk to me. Breathe.” He tried to soothe you by petting your hair, rocking you gently, kissing your forehead… anything, anything he could think of and nothing was working.

You were sobbing so loudly that Anakin was glad there wasn’t a back parking lot. If someone wanted to see where this horrible wailing was coming from they’d have to walk all the way around back, thankfully most people didn’t care enough to do such a thing.

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

The back door creaked open and you could hardly hear the conversation over your own tears.

“Anakin!” Vigo whisper shouted. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do this!” His voice angrily gritting through his teeth. “What happened today?”

“Nothin’ man! I dunno!” Vigo squeaked raising up his hands in surrender. “She just clocked in like that, no cryin’ though. She’s hardly said a word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Anakin grunted, “I’m her emergency contact for a reason you idiot.”

“Hey? Don’t get mad at me!” Vigo scoffed. “I figured she was in a funk because of you, why would I call if I thought it was boyfriend troubles?”

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckin’-“ Anakin took a breath to regulate himself, one arm firmly holding you while the other was wildly gesturing as he spoke. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“No?”

“Are you stupid? God just fuck- go back inside before you end up crying on the ground too.” He snapped at him, huffing as the back door shut behind a quickly retreating Vigo.

“Sorry baby, I’m sorry,” He whispered, petting your head and squeezing you tightly. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help did it?”

“N-not really.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“She speaks.” He gasped, “want me to yell at him some more? I’ll do it just say the word-“

“Anakin-“ you snorted, wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. “Aw shit sorry.”

“You think I’m worried about alittle snot?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’d lick it out of your nose like a cow if you’d let me. C’mere I’ll prove it.”

He stuck out his tongue and flicked it at you, chasing your face as you squirmed away from him. Despite to horrible ache in your lungs and the scratchy feeling in your throat, Anakin had a way of making everything better. Even if it was accomplished by making a fool of himself.

You laughed in spite of trying to catch your breath, fighting those awkward stalled inhales with a the goofy little giggle only he could force out of you. He relented finally when you gave up struggling, opting for a kiss on the tip of your nose rather than his tongue up your nostril.

“Wanna talk to me now?” He asked quietly, his playful attitude tucked away and replaced with seriousness.

“I don’t know Ani.” You sighed, feeling horribly conflicted. “I just want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He said, not leaving room for argument. “But I’m not letting you get up until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Please? Please I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your eyes already filling back up with tears.

“It’s nothing really! It’s okay.” You pleaded with him, “I’m just… I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff and it’s all overwhelming.”

“That’s not okay, don’t say it’s okay. You just wailed like a banshee.” He said sternly. “Talk, let me help.”

“I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, “Im going nuts. I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it without you thinking I’m insane.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice cracking with pain. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“W-what if hypothetically…” you whispered. “It’s only hypothetical okay?”

“Okay. Imaginary scenario, let’s hear it.” He nodded solemnly.

“Hypothetically, if I was having… nightmares of someone being in my house. What would you say.” You whispered.

“Hypothetical nightmares?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well… I’d suggest that maybe you… go to therapy? See if you can find the root of the problem.”

Therapy? To find the root of the problem? That would work if you didn’t already know where to find the problem: in your apartment at any given moment. Hell, he was probably there right now.

“Are you having these dreams because of that night at the bar?” He asked softly, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. “You know we didn’t see anyone put anything in your drink. No one left at the same time as you but your friends.”

“Now like I said before, just because we didn’t see it on camera… it doesn’t mean that no one slipped something in your drink. Stuff like that unfortunately happens all the time.” He sighed.

“I know.” You nodded, your eyes wet and sad, you knew you weren’t drugged there. You were drugged in the security of your own home. “I know, I think maybe I was just alittle more tipsy than I thought I don’t-“

“Hey, no… it’s okay.” He soothed you. “I believe you.”

“But there was no one who followed you home from the bar. I can say that with 100% certainty okay?” He said sternly.

“Ani but-“

“Look at me.” He said sharply, his voice turning soft again immediately after. “No one followed you home. I watched that video a hundred times over from every angle possible. No one else left the bar until about 17 minutes after you and your friends left.”

“Now don’t get upset baby okay? Listen I know, I know that it scared you shitless.” He said in a pained way, his face not quite matching his tone of voice like he was having a hard time trying to decide how to respond.

“Which is perfectly valid. It’s totally okay to be terrified if you saw something like that.” He soothed you, squeezing your upper arms. “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, I would never say that. If you say that you saw something, I believe you.”

“But, just because you saw it… doesn’t mean that it was truly there. Those kind of drugs can really fuck with your head baby.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes and hiding against his chest again.

Gods… this man. He really was one of a kind, not just any man or person in general for that matter, would respond so well to such a strange temporary delusion. Your past boyfriends would’ve run for the hills. But not Anakin. It was clear he wasn’t deterred easily, he was your personal emotional support pet leech.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable like this with someone you hadn’t known for very long. After this conversation you thought maybe it would be okay to tell Anakin the truth about it all. He’d handle it perfectly well wouldn’t he?

But, you can’t risk putting him in harms way. You wouldn’t know if Anakin would be safe without first speaking to Ghost. If Anakin was your pet leech… Ghost was the the neighborhood street dog who’d decided your porch was the safest place to sleep. Who would be heartless enough to kick the poor thing out without a proper meal first?

That’s the problem with strays. Give them a scrap and they’ll love you for life.

Diary Entry: August 14th

Jesus baby I’m sorry. I thought things went well last night, I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I really didn’t. I guess you weren’t ready to see Ghost after all.

That’s my fault, I apologize. I should have known better.

It’s just… you seemed kind of excited for it you know? I thought we had a good time. Was the stripping down in front of me what freaked you out so much? Or seeing the pictures? I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have, that was too far, too fast.

I see now that I made a mistake and I plan to rectify it as soon as possible. I’m going to give you a choice, one that I really don’t want to give you. But I will for the sake of your sanity.

I’ve been selfish for too long.

I’ve not truly considered your feelings on the situation, I’ve taken your response at face value and never attempted to dig farther than that. It won’t happen again I can assure you of that. Ghost will still be Ghost, but perhaps just a bit more considerate of your opinions and boundaries.

You must understand though, it’s hard to deal with this for me too. I know it’s not fair to compare our separate sides of the situation like this, but it’s true. It’s painful to watch you get so upset over something I’ve done, knowing I can’t really resolve the issue. I don’t know how to help, or fix this.

I’ve dug myself into a hole. A Pit if you will.

How could you ever forgive me now? After all this time that I have been so stupidly self-centered… I imagine it would be unlikely that you could find it in your immensely kind soul to forgive and forget my transgressions.

Maybe not though? I do see you as a godly entity, my own personal deity. If I leave enough at the altar, bow at your feet for long enough, serve you unconditionally… maybe then you would see that I have discovered the error of my ways. You could see that I am truthful in my pursuit of repentance.

Date

August 15th

Anakin drove to the opposite side of the city to purchase your apology gifts from Ghost. He knew well enough that Luke never had a set schedule, Han was always at the gym and you were at book club. There was limited space in time and even smaller proximity of location for him to safely collect the supplies he needed.

If someone saw him buying a dozen red roses and told you about it without his knowledge… well there goes Ghost. It’d be real hard to explain that away.

So he went to the florist, chose the most beautiful bouquet he could find and tucked it away in a large brown bag with tissue paper over the top so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise the petals.

He strolled down the side walk to another small mom and pop store, just to browse through stationary and cards. Ghost needs to be alittle more classy in his opinion. Maybe if his notes are on nice paper and written in plain black ink… that could ease the discomfort of it. It’s probably not super welcoming to find a ripped scrap of paper with red ink scrawled on it now that he’s come to think of it.

It was amusing to him before, but after your display of emotion, he’s feeling guilty. Very, very guilty. There was no reason to go the extra mile on stupid little things like that.

So, pretty grey paper and matching envelopes join the bouquet.

Now he just has to find something else. It can’t be chocolate or something generic. It has to be something meaningful. Something thoughtful to solidify the sentiment behind his offer for you. Something that will push you to make the right decision.

——————————————————————————

Anakin walked into your apartment, and went straight to your bedroom, it was time for Ghost to set up his apology present.

The big red bouquet was carefully placed in the center of your bed along with the pretty stationary propped against it. Your name carefully and neatly written in **black ink** on the envelope.

Your other gift, had turned into two. A small black box accompanying a short and squat black gift bag with grey tissue paper.

He was proud of his staged display, so proud that he couldn’t wait for you to see it. He was itching for you to get home, he needed to know what you’d choose. He was dying to see your pretty face light up with joy at his thoughtfulness.

So against his better judgement, he snapped a picture of himself standing at your bedside. The photo taken from a high angle to capture just the corner of your red rose bouquet, with himself taking up majority of the frame. His mask tilted to the side and his free hand held up a gloved peace sign.

He’d wait to send it.

He wanted to see your face when the message came through.

Anakin was prepared to be patient, but he didn’t have to be patient for long. He got the notification that there was movement out front of the building, he pulled up the live feed from the stairwell camera on his laptop and excitedly jolted up out of his seat before sitting back down quickly to scoot his seat back up to the table.

He rubbed his hands together and practically combusted from the inside when he confirmed it was you. His fingers moved quickly to send the text message and just as he thought you would, you paused and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a bit of panic and maybe a bit of excitement. But mostly, Anakin was saddened to see fear. You were scared, but so brave as he watched you sprint up the steps. He shook his head and let out a deep breath, pulling up the split screen of all the cameras in your home.

You burst through the front door and slammed it shut, tossing your bag aside. Anakin turned up the volume just a bit and immediately realized that was a mistake because you yelled directly underneath the kitchen camera. The audio crackled as you shouted out for Ghost, Anakin realized then that you must think he’s still inside your home.

‘Just missed me.’ He texted quickly, watching you check your phone quickly and let out a sigh of relief as you muttered under your breath.

He thought you might text back, but why would you when you knew he was watching at that very moment?

“Hey!” You said, spinning in place, your eyes darting around to scan the room. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you!”

You rushed over to the living room window and down to the alley below, then up the fire escape, your gaze traveling over to the next building’s roof.

‘You won’t see me unless I want you to.’ He texted back.

“Jesus.” You muttered, rubbing your wrist anxiously. “I guess you want me to go to my room huh?”

‘Yes please.’

“Fine.” You sighed, kicking off your shoes as you walked over to the bedroom door, flinging it open quickly just incase he was still hiding out.

Your eyes drew to the center of your bed, the roses, the bag and box, the envelope. If the situation weren’t so strange you might consider this a romantic gesture. But it’s not, it’s not romantic and you shouldn’t want to open the gifts and sniff the pretty, sweet smelling flowers. You should want to call the police and have them haul the shit off for evidence.

“What’s all this for?” You asked alittle quieter than before, holding up your phone to read the text as it came through almost instantly as you knew that it would.

‘Letter.’

“Letter? That’s all?” You scoffed, “you did all this for a letter?”

‘It’s important.’ The response came quickly, followed by a second in rapid succession. ‘Gifts first.’

“Okay… alright. Gifts first.” You sighed, pulling your hand back from where it was inches away from the grey envelope.

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

Tag-List:

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x reader - everybody’s favourite

Sorry for requesting something so soon after my Wanda ask... But all I can think of is like Hotchkiss with reader who just absolutely spoils him and jack because their like a CEO or something and want them to have the best. And one day they send Hotch to work with a gift for Spencer after a hard case (maybe a book he's been looking for but can't find). So the team get a little jealous and want to meet her. - @azeal-peal 💜

Looking at your phone, you smiled at your lock screen and went back to looking at the people you were sat in a meeting with.

“How about we take a small break?” You asked.

“Your boyfriend calling?” Someone chuckled.

You laughed softly, standing up as you grabbed your phone.

“Actually my boyfriend is here, and we’re in no rush to finish this project, I trust you all. Go take a few hours, we’ll meet back just after lunch.”

Everybody seemed happy with this arrangement, and you quickly tidied a few of the papers away, setting them aside and picked up your papers.

Heading to your office, you set them on the desk, then walked back outside, making your way across the office.

You saw him before he saw you, and you grinned from ear to ear as you walked closer.

“Hello sweetheart.” You greeted.

Hotch turned around, a smile gracing his face as he saw you.

He opened his arms and you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him wrap his own around you and you pulled him down for a kiss.

Letting him go after a minute, you played with the hairs on the base of his neck.

“I just got back, Jack is at school so I thought I’d come see if you’re free.”

“I’m always free for you my darling.”

Hotch chuckled a little bit, letting go of you he held his hand out and you took it, letting him lead you back to his office.

He gathered your phone, your keys and your wallet for you, putting them into the pockets of his blazer, then held out his arm.

You looped your arm with his, making your way down to the parking lot.

“I was thinking about jacks trip, and I want to get him some new clothes for it, oh and a new suit for you, we have an appointment with the tailor.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it. So, suck it up and tell me about your case.”

Hotch nodded, opening the car door for you, and you got in.

When he was in the drivers side, he began to tell you about the case on the way to the tailors.

He explained how hard the case was for Reid, and what had happened, the fact that Reece had been hurt, and he’s really struggling with the fact he was hurt.

You listened carefully as he talked.

“The poor kid has it hard.” You sighed.

“I know, but honestly he’s one of the best agents we have, if not the best agent. I just wish there was some way to boost his confidence in himself.” Hotch sighed.

“Give it time, I imagine life has been hard for him because of how smart he is, and we know this world isn’t too kind to people who are different. Just keep supporting him Aaron and let him know you’re there for him.”

You guided your boyfriend into the tailors and over to the man who was waiting for him.

While they were measuring up a new suit, you were flicking through some others, looking at the colours and designs, then you made your way over to the accessories.

You found a nice, though expensive watch in the glass case.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” Another man asked.

“Absolutely, though I was wondering if you have something a little less flashy and more work appropriate. My boyfriend wouldn’t be able to wear this to work.”

The man nodded his head, pulling out some watches.

“Some of these are more expensive due to their unique design, but they would be more appropriate for a working environment if you didn’t want it to be easily damaged.”

You looked through them, and you looked at a pure gold one, small intricate designs carved into the links of the watch.

“I like this, I’ll get this one. He’s currently getting a new suit fitted so I’d like to wait for that before paying, I’ll probably get him a few more ties as well. Something that says professional, but can be used for formal meals and such as well.”

He nodded.

“We have a few I think you’ll like them.”

You carried on picking some stuff up for Hotch, then waited by the counter for him, also getting yourself a new watch since you wanted a change.

When Hotch had his new suit fitted, it was brought over and he stood next to you.

“(Y/N) no, you can’t. This is all too much and it has to be expensive.”

You grinned a little bit, handing over your bank card.

“Oops, too late.”

He sighed, giving you a small smile as he shook his head and he leant forward, kissing your forehead.

“You’re too good for me…” he whispered.

“I’d say it’s the other way around sweetheart, oh, and before you go to work tomorrow I have something for you to take it.”

You never told Hotch what it was, but you did go pick it up later on that night before heading back home.

Jack was happily trying on all of his clothes, and you handed the box to Hotch with the instructions to give it to Reid first thing in the morning.

And he did, when he got to the office he waited for Reid and made his way over.

“(Y/N) wanted you to have this.”

He set the box on the desk and Reid furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Oh? The mysterious rich partner has a gift for the pretty boy?” Emily asked.

They all walked over to watch as Reid opened it.

He set the lid to the box aside, and he picked up the note that was neatly placed on the top.

“What’s it say?” Rossi asked.

“It says to always believe in myself.”

He set the note aside and picked up the very old book.

“It’s a first edition of a Russian novel I’ve been looking for…” he whispered.

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” Garcia gasped.

“Damn, that must’ve cost a lot.” Morgan whistled.

They all nodded in agreement and Hotch just chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

“They don’t care about cost, to (Y/N) they just want everybody to have the best.”

“Seriously Hotch, we have to meet them this isn’t fair.” JJ laughed.

Everybody immediately started asking him and begging him to be able to meet you.

They’d all heard about you, they knew about you from being the CEO of a large company, they’d seen photos of you and seen interviews of you thanks to Garica.

But they hadn’t had the chance to meet you, and they wanted to meet you, finally get to see the person who keeps gifting them all expensive gifts

[schlattschlut]

Do I have to do everything for you? Schlatt x charlie x reader smut

-

Schlatt catches you staring at Charlie gives you an opening, when you’re too scared to take it, Schlatt does it for you.

aka Schlatt showing Charlie how to treat you right

Cw: smut, threesome f/m/m, degradation, Schlatt is over your bullshit tbh

Wc: 2,882

-

Schlatt and I were monogamous, or so I thought. I never looked at another man once we got together; But then he introduced me to Charlie and as much as I loved my boyfriend, it was hard not to look at Charlie.

I didn’t think it was possible to find another person who could treat me as well as Schlatt does until I met Charlie and he started holding doors for me, making my favorite drink when I don’t feel well, letting me complain to him about my issues that were definitely superficial but he always made me feel valid in my drama. Not to mention that he was just gorgeous, even before he took off his glasses and changed his hair, I would catch myself eyeing him up in discord calls.

This being the first time I’d been near Charlie in person, I didn’t realize how obvious my staring was until Schlatt called it out.

“Enough.” Schlatt’s voice pulls me from my daydreams. He slams his notebook down in front of him, the two of us had been sitting at the kitchen table, working on our own things in silence; Schlatt stands from his spot, rounding the table to stand next to me.

“What?” I ask sheepishly, my cheeks heating up as he towers over me.

“You know what.” Schlatt bites back, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning down to speak lowly into my ear, “You’ve been staring at Charlie for 20 minutes.”

My eyes widen at his words, shocked he had caught me and equally shocked he didn’t seem that mad.

“I wasn’t- I don’t think-“ I stumble over my words, trying to find the right excuse to get me out of this.

Schlatt remains silent for a moment, his head now next to mine, looking in the direction I was facing. In my line of view was Charlie, standing at the sink washing dishes after we had all eaten, oblivious to anything around him as he focused intently. I couldn’t help it, seeing Charlie wearing an apron he insisted on putting on, caught up in his own world. Schlatt had caught me red handed, watching the man in front of me do a simple task, while half paying attention to the book in front of me.

Schlatt huffs, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “You can fuck him.” He says confidently, causing me to whip my head around to look at him.

“Excuse me?” I ask, standing from my chair to face him.

“You heard me.” He grumbles, “You can fuck him, but you have to be the one to tell him.” Schlatt smirks proudly, knowing just how difficult initiating those conversations was for me.

I scoff, crossing my arms and glaring at him. “That is a wild way to make an accusation.”

Schlatt laughs, genuinely finding it funny I thought he thought I was cheating, “It’s not an accusation, toots… honestly it’s more of an order.” He shrugs.

I feel my brain shut down as he continues to speak, it was rare for him to speak in such a serious tone for so long without breaking character; I was starting to believe him.

“I can fuck him, because you’ll let me?” I clarify, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Schlatt shakes his head, his laugh becoming even dryer as time went on. “No, sweetheart. I know you want to fuck him, so I’m letting you.”

Though he explains it, I still don’t understand. He wanted me to fuck Charlie? Was this some sick way of breaking up with me?

The worry in my eyes must’ve been visible to Schlatt as he spoke up again, “Listen, if you can manage to tell Charlie your feelings… You can sleep with him, no strings attached or whatever.”

I breathe deeply, making sure to think over my next words before saying them, in case I say the wrong thing and this all goes south. “Why does my boyfriend want me to fuck one of his best friends so bad?” I tilt my head to look at him.

Schlatt huffs again, clearly annoyed I wasn’t just accepting what he was saying. “You and Charlie have been ogling each other for how long? And I don’t feel threatened by him so…” He shrugs, “Fuck him, if you want.”

-

I dropped the conversation there, knowing we’d be going in circles for hours if it continued.

But the thought never left my mind as a few days pass, I spend the pondering Schlatts offer, wondering how I could possibly ever bring that up to Charlie. I watched Charlie every day as he moved around the rented air bnb, slapping Schlatt on the arm every time he catches me and makes kissy noises.

After at least 36 hours of deep thought, I came to the conclusion that I should at least talk to Charlie, it couldn’t possibly hurt to casually mention it, right?

So one night, after everyone else had gone to bed or home while Schlatt and I snuggled into a corner of the couch and Charlie puttered around in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and putting things away.

I lean away from Schlatt, looking between him and the open door to the kitchen. I bite my cheek anxiously before I stand from his lap, kissing him quickly and slipping off towards the kitchen where Charlie was standing over the sink, humming to a song in his head as he scrubbed a plate.

“Hey.” I said softly, making Charlie jump and almost drop the plate in his hand. He sets the plate down safely and turns to look at me, his chest rising heavily as he worked to catch his breath.

“Jesus, you always do that.” Charlie states, splashing me with some of the soapy water.

I gasp, dodging as much of the water as I can. “I can’t help that you’re jumpy!” I laugh, finally looking up at him. My cheeks blush as I realize he’s wearing my favorite sweater of his, the black and white one that fit him so well.

He rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Did you need something?” He asks.

I nod, gulping nervously as he unknowingly put his biceps on display, reminding me how strong he was.

“Yeah, I…” I start to speak, fully ready to admit my feelings to him, having a speech planned and everything. Yet now it seemed like I couldn’t talk at all, no words coming out as I panicked.

Charlie looks at me with concern but before he can ask if i’m okay, I turn around and exit the kitchen, ignoring Schlatt who stands from the couch to try and comfort me as I make my way to our shared room and flop down on the bed, my face burning up with embarrassment.

I had figured someone would follow me, likely Schlatt, to either confront or comfort me. I secretly prayed no one did and they allowed me to sulk in peace.

Thankfully, my wishes are granted as no one even knocks on the door, though I can hear them all bustling around the house as I lay in bed. I keep my face flat against the mattress, replaying the conversation in my head a thousand times. Realizing all the cool things I could’ve said, instead of choking and running away.

At least an hour, maybe two, passes before I hear from anyone. I sit by myself, debating if I should be brave and leave the room or stay inside with my own thoughts.

Though it seems Schlatt decides for me, as I nervously fiddle with the edge of the blanket, I hear a knock at the door and the sound of the knob turning slowly. Schlatt sticks his head in, seeing me sat on the bed, he opens the door fully and invites himself in.

He stands at the foot of the bed, his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth lightly, “Hi.” He states.

“Hi.” I reply, “What can I do for you?” I ask, tilting my head in question.

Schlatt clears his throat, running his hand through his hair as he stares at the wall behind me. “So,” He starts, which is usually a bad sign, meaning he had formed an idea.

“Oh god.” I mutter. Schlatt sticks his hands out in defense.

“Hear me out, would you? Just give me a chance.” He pauses, waiting to see if I’ll interrupt him again before continuing. “Okay, so… I know that whole conversation with Charlie kind of crashed and burned.”

I wince as he brings it up, the memory still too fresh in my mind.

“However!” He continues, “I might have talked to him about it…” He almost mumbles the last part.

My jaw drops, “Schlatt!” I scold, my cheeks heating up with a new found embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, okay, but you’re really bad at talking to people.” He replies. I cross my arms and huff, knowing he’s right. I allow him to continue, “He’s down if you are.”

He said it so quickly I almost missed it, but I didn’t and my heart fell to my stomach as I processed his words.

“He is?” I ask in slight disbelief, not entirely trusting Schlatt to not be pulling my leg.

He only nods, stepping away from the bed and back towards the door, opening it and ushering someone in; revealing Charlie who had clearly been waiting close by.

My blush gets stronger as everything starts to unfold, realizing that Charlie was in fact interested in this and my boyfriend had been the one to tell him. I wasn’t sure if I should be angry or grateful because I would’ve never talked to him on my own.

I shift to sit on my knees, watching them both closely. Schlatt had his eyes focused on Charlie, who was staring at me.

“Well?” Schlatt asks expectantly, waiting for Charlie to make a move.

Charlie head snaps from me to Schlatt, he blinks repeatedly as he processes what to say and do. “I- Uh-“ Charlie stumbles over his own words, his heart beating against his chest and his pants starting to strain were making it hard to focus.

Schlatts expression drops from expectant to annoyed. He and Charlie had discussed this prior and Charlie swore not to chicken out, that if I was in so was he. But now he stood next to the bed, nervously shifting his weight back and forth. Schlatt waits another moment before groaning. “Do I have to do everything for you two?” He questions, grabbing my ankle and yanking me down the bed towards him.

I squeak as he does, now laying on my back with Schlatt between my legs. He holds both my knees in his hands, pressing them into his sides. He looks up at Charlie again, pointing to the ground next to him. “Stand here.” He commands and Charlie immediately follows the order, standing where Schlatt told him.

My heart races, I swear it’s going to burst out of my chest. They’re both looking down at me, making me feel incredibly small. I shift uncomfortably as they stare me down, Schlatt chuckling.

“Well, since you seem to be struggling, I’ll fuck her first.” Schlatt says to Charlie, unfazed by the way Charlie’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. Schlatt then looks at me, slapping my thigh roughly to get my attention on him. “That alright with you, sweetheart?” He asks.

I nod frantically, growing more impatient by the second. Schlatt knew I would be okay with it, but he just had to play it up for Charlie just a bit.

Schlatt grows even more impatient as Charlie and I stay quiet. He slips his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down and off my legs. His pants go next, pooling around his ankles as he pulled me even closer to him.

I catch Schlatt looking at Charlie, tracking his movements and ensuring he had his full attention on us. My eyes are locked on Schlatt as my hands grip the sides of his shirt nervously.

He leans forward, shushing me softly and pushing his hips into mine, stretching me out slowly as I whine softly. Once he’s fully seated, he leans back and smiles at Charlie, grabbing the back of his neck and bringing him closer, “See.” Schlatt says, “This is what you’re supposed to do.”

Charlie laughs awkwardly, his palm pressing against the front of his jeans as Schlatt holds him close to us.

I whine at Schlatt, tugging on his shirt. “Don’t be mean.” I mumble, trying to defend Charlie. Schlatt just scoffs, pulling almost all the way out before slamming his hips into mine again, effectively shutting off my brain for a moment.

He turns to Charlie again, “You watching?” He asked lowly. Charlie keeps his eyes trained on us nervously, unsure exactly where to look.

Schlatt grunts and his hips start to move quicker, his length stretching me further each time, his head falling back as he tried to remind Charlie to keep his eyes on us. I reach forward, grabbing the front of Charlie’s shirt and pulling him closer until he was kneeling on the bed next to me.

Schlatts hands are roaming the expanse of my legs, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin; a stark contrast to the way his hips slam against mine. He’s groaning softly, losing control more and more with each thrust.

“Your turn.” He grunts to Charlie, gesturing for him to take his pants off. Charlie stutters for a moment, losing his confidence as both of us watched him. Schlatt glares at him, looping his fingers into Charlie’s belt loop and tugging him even closer. His hands leave my body momentarily as he unzips Charlie’s jeans for him; pushing them down his thighs. “Fuck my girlfriend, bro.” Schlatt says, almost casually as he slips out of me, stepping aside for Charlie to take his place. He grabs Charlie’s shoulder, tugging him to stand in the position he was just in.

Charlie stares down at me nervously; I smile softly at him, leaning on my elbows and running my hands down his chest. “C’mon, Charlie…” I murmur teasingly. “I want you to fuck me.”

I see Charlie’s eyes darken at the words, as if he’s suddenly come to terms with the situation and is finally ready to play. “I’ll fuck you, princess.” Charlie mutters, grabbing himself by the base, nudging his tip against my clit a few times before pushing in slowly. I can’t help but mewl at the feeling of him. He didn’t have the length that Schlatt did, but he matched him in girth and my body couldn’t seem to get enough.

My head lolls to the side as Charlie takes a second to catch his breath, I watch Schlatt as he takes his own length in his hand, pumping it slowly; running his thumb over the tip and using the precum as lubricant. Schlatts free hand runs along my calf, down to my thigh as his eyes focus on where Charlie and I connect. “Move.” Schlatt commands Charlie.

Charlie’s head turns to look at Schlatt, his daze clearing again as his starts to move his hips, whimpers and moans fall past his lips quietly. “So tight…” Charlie whines, “God you feel good…” He groans out.

Schlatt chuckles, sliding his hand over my thigh to press his thumb against my clit. I gasp, squeezing around Charlie; causing his hips to stutter as he falls forward slightly.

I know Schlatt is enjoying this just as much as Charlie, if not more. His thumb moved over my clit quickly, clearly trying to bring me closer to the edge as Charlie’s moans only got more frequent.

“Shit, Charlie.” Schlatt laughs, his hand pumping over his cock faster, “You might actually make her come.”

I nod frantically in agreement, my eyes closing as my climax approached quickly, “Please Charlie,” I whine, opening my eyes just enough to see him panting over me. “Wanna come for you…” I beg.

His hips speed up, his hands pressing my hips into the mattress to keep me from moving as he seems to chase his own pleasure at the same time.

“Come, you slut.” Schlatt orders, taking his hand off himself long enough to slap my inner thigh. The feeling of both men against me starts to make my brain feel fuzzy, my release slowly building until I couldn’t stop myself from coming; my vision turning white and my breathing heavy as it washes over me.

I squeeze around Charlie again, hearing him gasp and his hips stuttering as his own release spills into me, slowly leaking down onto the sheets below. The sight alone is enough for Schlatt, he grunts and I feel his come dripping down the side of my leg as he whispers praises towards us both.

Schlatts free hand steadies him against the mattress before he gives in and falls down next to me, still catching his breath. Charlie follows suit, pulling out of me with a whine before climbing into bed next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Was that so fucking hard?” Schlatt grunts out, “I’m not doing it for you next time.”