#but ended up on the opposite side of the lake

[tjerra14]

have a bit of Lake™ from today's bike ride

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[letsgetrowdy43]

Love on the lake—

Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Request: 🐞 Quinn isn't usually a touchy person but when he gets with the reader he is all over her "Never figured you for this much of a cuddler."

Warnings/notes: It's a cold start, couldn't quite think of a better intro so please ignore that!

End of summer celebration!!

One of Quinn's hands gently held her hips flush to him as he steered the boat, a grin on his face as her hands placed themselves over his on the steering wheel. "You're doing really good," he mumbled into her ear, followed by a kiss on her freckled cheek right before he explained the importance of the water markings. Her back pressed against his toned chest as he taught her how to steer the boat, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she nodded at his instructions before he removed her hands and let her take control.

His hands began to roam her sides, sending goosebumps down her warm skin as he began playing with the little red bows on the hips of her bikini bottoms which gained a groan from his brothers in the background who had been tortured with Quinn's affection towards his girlfriend since she arrived in Michigan earlier in the week.

Sometimes, it was as if his brothers ceased to exist the moment she appeared. This, of course, led to many agonizing moments for his younger siblings.

Quinn wasn’t usually one for public displays of affection, especially not around his family. But now as he sat with his girlfriend prettily on his lap in the captain's chair of the boat, his arm wrapped securely around her, he couldn’t help himself.

He was completely, unabashedly, all over her, and he didn’t care who saw it.

Jack and Luke, who were both sprawled out on the opposite side of the boat, couldn’t help but notice the giddiness that seemed to occupy Quinn's demeanour. Jack shot his older brother a look, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief at his shameless roaming hands.

“Never figured you for this much of a cuddler, Q-ball,” he teased his tone light but with that signature smirk Quinn knew all too well, all the while his girlfriend's face broke out a red flush. Luke chimed in, nudging Jack with his elbow. “Yeah, who knew Quinn had a soft side? What happened to your mysterious act?”

Quinn rolled his eyes but couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as the girl leaned further into his hold, face buried in his neck as she hid the slight embarrassment of being caught.

Normally, Quinn might have been a little annoyed at their jabs, but today he was too content to care. “You guys are just jealous,” he shot back, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on her thigh.

She laughed softly, tilting her head to look at him with a smile that made his heart do that weird fluttery thing it always did when she was around. “I didn’t realize I was dating such a softie,” she teased, her voice full of affection and a little sultry as she dipped down to press a kiss to his lips, eliciting a cry of agony from his little brothers. "You changed me for the better I fear," he said lowly as he looked up and waved off at the boat passing by.

Jack leaned back, folding his arms behind his head as he shot Quinn a knowing look. “Man, you’re in deep,” he said with a laugh. "It's pretty sad,” Luke agreed, chuckling as he shook his head before ridding himself of his shirt and diving into the lake.

He looked down at her, the warmth in his chest growing as she smiled back at him. No words were needed—just a simple look that solidified the unspoken connection between them, something that resembled love that ran deeper than anything words could convey.

The day got hotter as the laughter and playful banter of his brothers echoed around them. But for Quinn, all that mattered was the girl in his arms, the way she fit so perfectly against him, and the simple, undeniable fact that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

And as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water, Quinn leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his brothers’ teasing forgotten. He was content, truly happy, in a way he hadn’t expected. And even though this wasn’t typical for him, he found that he loved every minute of it.

Because with her, being a little out of character felt like the most natural thing in the world.

-

-

-

[lexaknoxville]

𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧

“𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲” - 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗗𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆

pairing(s) | Luke Castellan x reader

summary | Luke’s rough days always end up with you, him, and a blunt by the lake. This time your emotions the weed gets the better of you both, leading to a shift in your friendship

warnings | smoking, cussing, making out, suggestive content!

based on THIS request!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! MASTERLIST!

—————————————————————————————

“I’m sorry for dragging you out here like this.”

Luke says breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the two of you. The only words spoken back and forth in the last fifteen or so minutes was the occasional “thanks” while passing the blunt.

“What do you mean? You know I would never pass up the opportunity to smoke.” You said with a light giggle. You knew exactly what he meant, and you knew what you truly wanted to say.

“I know I know, I just feel like shit for always dragging you out in the middle of the night, just because I’m being whiny.”

“Luke come on, you know I don’t care. And you’re not whiny.” You could’ve said more, been more reassuring, comforted him, but you knew if you kept talking you would end up spilling all of the shit you’ve tried so hard to keep bottled up.

So you kept your mouth shut, because we all know It’s not smart to tell your best friend that he’s the only reason you come back to camp every year. its not smart to tell him that you would come out barefoot in the snow just to make sure he’s ok, and it’s definitely not smart to tell your best friend that you’re in love with him.

So you stayed quiet.

He leant over and knocked your shoulders together, dragging you out of your thoughts. Looking over towards him with a smile, you went to ask if he was ok before he interrupted you.

“You cold? Pretty sure I can hear your teeth jittering from over here y/n.” He laughed out. You genuinely hadn’t even noticed you were freezing, so caught up thinking about him and all the things you couldn’t say.

“Honestly yeah, a little”

“Come here.” He said in his usual sweet tone, reaching over to pull you closer to his side.

As soon as his hands were on you your face heated up, and as much as your mind was telling you to pull away you just couldn’t. Everything about it was so undeniably him. The smoke surrounding you guys, the smell of his cologne, him pressed up against your side, the gentle brush of his fingers on your leg.

It was all so him.

Finally working up the courage to face him, you realized just how close the two of you were. If he had moved even an inch closer your nose would be touching his.

“Y/n/n, can I kiss you?”

God, you didn’t know if it was the nickname, the weed, or just your borderline obsessive crush on him, but you almost passed out then and there.

“Please” you almost begged. Any other time you would’ve been embarrassed, but you just didn’t have it in you at the moment.

That was all it took for him to lean forward and finally put his lips to yours. He brought his hands up to your face as you kissed. His hands were gentle and soft, the complete opposite of the almost erratic way he was kissing you.

His hands dropped from your face down to your waist, pulling you softly into his lap. Throwing your legs over his thighs, it finally clicked that you were making out with Luke Castellan. The boy who caught the eyes of all the girls at camp, the best swordsman, and your best friend.

You slowly carded your fingers through his hair, gently tugging once you got close to the scalp. A low groan ripped out of him, and you knew in that moment that you would never hear anything better.

It could be the weed, or the way he’s kissing you so deeply, but your mind was almost in a haze. The only thing that held your focus was Luke. The feeling of his hands on your hips, slowly rocking you back and forth against him. The way he smelt, the softness of his hair, the warmth radiating from his body, the feeling of his abs when you ran your hands up his shirt, the low whines he was letting out.

After several minutes, and finally getting your thoughts back under control, you realized It was all too much. This was moving way too fast and you’d be damned if you messed this all up by fucking your best friend in the woods.

“Luke, Luke baby we need to stop.” You said between kisses, slowly pulling back from him. Still placed in his lap, with his hands on your hips, he slowly nodded. “You’re right. It’s way too cold out here and we’re gonna end up getting caught.”

Words aside, neither of you made any effort to move.

Luke stayed quiet for a moment before bursting into laugher. “just so you know, I wanted to do that for a long time. Now that I finally have, you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me.”

All you could do was laugh. “Please Castellan, we both know I would never try to get rid of you.”

I HOPE THIS WAS OK!!! I HAVENT WRITTEN IN A WHILE SO GIVE ME A BREAK LMAO.

SEND IN REQUESTS! LOVE YALL 🤗

@lexaknoxville

[emilybeemartin]

Just to tie in my two themes this month----

Additional notes, because poll options apparently limit their characters:

Frodo finds great peace in watching the tides rise and fall throughout each day. He attends all the ranger programs on birds and seashells and fills pages with sketches and poetry.

Sam meticulously selects postcards in the gift shop for each of his friends and spends a whole morning writing and addressing them. He also buys Junior Ranger hats for his kids and a variety of Appalachian jams for Rosie.

Park rangers launch a Missing Person search for Aragorn when they realize his car's been parked at Avalanche Creek for three days. The search runs for almost a week before he comes strolling out the opposite side of the park, supporting one of the SAR techs who twisted an ankle during the search.

Legolas is first drawn to Olympic for the towering, mossy temperate rainforests, but the ground goes out from under him when he steps onto Second Beach for the first time. He spends an entire day watching the light and tides shift on the sea stacks, and he leaves feeling both full and hollow, like a bell that's just been rung.

Mammoth is only Gimli's first stop on a cavern tour, followed by Jewel and Wind Caves and Carlsbad Caverns. Wind Cave is his favorite for the unusual formations. He makes an obnoxious tween boy cry in Carlsbad for breaking off a speleothem.

Boromir is on a tour of military parks. He asks so many questions to the intern working the info station at Fort Sumter the kid has to go find the park historian. His favorite site is Vicksburg because that place was buckwild, though he silently judges one of the reenactors for his clumsy handling of a black powder rifle.

Merry also makes stops in Jurassic and Dinosaur National Monuments. He watches every park video, takes selfies in front of all the fossil exhibits, and earns his Junior Ranger badge at each one. He buys a keychain for Pippin.

Pippin actually gets four citations, mostly for trying to stick his hands in mud pots. He doesn't mean anything by it---he's just so delighted and curious about the bizarre landscape. He winds up with several thermal burns and dumps a king's ransom in the donation box on his last day.

Gandalf gets dinged by rangers for not paying the $5 fee for Trunk Bay, but he acts senile until they eventually decide to drop it. He gets postcards from everyone and responds to none of them.

Faramir and Eowyn are traveling together and do many of the same hikes and rides, but they do have some different preferences off-trail. Eowyn drags Faramir to a rodeo and the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole, and he goads her into Ranger Shelton Johnson's living history programs on the Buffalo Soldiers in Yosemite.

Eomer is bike-packing on his sport cruiser motorcycle. He goes to Roosevelt south unit for the wild horse herds but ends up spending half a day watching a prairie dog town. He takes 400 photos of them, mostly blurry, and texts them to Eowyn.

[specshroom]

hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Sixteen: 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, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, straight up murder, gun/knife violence, drug use GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, all may not apply]

Info: Ghost is too pleased with you over something he really shouldn’t be. You say things, his feelings get hurt. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

The cool, end of summer winds blew over the bushes you crouched behind. The conversation between Ghost and Adam could be heard in choppy bits, mostly Adam’s side of the dialogue. His pained voice and sharp yelp carried loud and clear over to you. As you heard him shouting for his friends, you couldn’t help but pop your head up despite Ghost’s strict instructions to do the opposite. You couldn’t just ignore the possibility that a group of men might be charging at him any moment now. If you could help, even just a little bit, you would. Though it seemed to be an unneccesary fear, scanning the area quickly you noticed that the yard was devoid of any movement and the living room light in the cabin had been turned out. They’d abandoned their friend, no doubt barricading themselves inside the cabin at that very moment. Thinking quickly, you knew they all probably had their phones on them. If they hadn’t already called the cops, they would be calling them soon. 

Pulling out your phone, you hid it behind your jacket sleeve, turning the brightness down. Once you’d wriggled around enough to safely switch it on and do some quick googling, you discovered that unfortunately for anyone in the area, the average police response time was about forty five minutes. But, as you looked up the county maps, along with the address to your cabin… you realized it might take them much longer to arrive. The lake sat directly on the county line, the county to the left had a police department fifty seven minutes away. While the one on the right had a department closer, yet inaccessible during certain hours. 

A draw bridge along the river rose up and lowered manually, monitored twenty-four hours round the clock, seven days a week. It took five whole minutes to open, five whole minutes to close, and however long it took a large boat to chug along through the gap. If it were you, being tormented by Ghost and a boat was stopping help from getting to you… well, rightfully you’d be livid. Though you found yourself lacking the sympathy you should be experiencing for these boys. Of course they were horrible people, but violence wasn’t usually appealing to you in the least bit. You’d much rather Ghost confiscate their phones and drop them off anonymously at the police department on your way back to the city. Whatever they’ve done, there’s bound to be a shred of evidence on at least one of their cellphones. 

You might’ve yelled out to suggest it, but you realized that would be very unwise considering you’d already broken your promise to keep your head down. So you stayed down, your phone now shoved back into your pocket with a timer set to vibrate in thirty minutes. You took a moment to strategize in the event that you needed to get the hell out of dodge at the first sign of flashing lights. 

“Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!” Adam’s shrill voice rang out through the moonlit nightscape. Once again, unable to help yourself, you popped your head up, parting the leaves and twigs to peer through. You could barely make out a struggling figure on the ground, the large truck was obstructing most of the view, only allowing you to see beneath the vehicle.

You heard the unmistakable sound of metal singing, a sharp, shrill *schinggg*, followed by a shock-delayed roar of pain. The sounds weren’t quite right, the scream was in its place, but the blade and the squelch were in the wrong spots. You hadn’t heard the blade go in, you were only hearing it come out. You waited for a wet thud, but never heard one. Just rustling of clothes, Ghost’s unintelligible grumbling and footsteps heading away from you. Two sets of footsteps.

He hadn’t hurt him so badly that he couldn’t walk, just enough that he would be lightheaded from the blood loss within the next half hour. Adam stumbled in front of Ghost who directed his jerky, uncoordinated movements by his grip on the back of Adam’s shirt. You lost sight of them when their footsteps changed from soft thuds to louder *clunks*, they must’ve reached the porch.

“Say ‘Hi’ Adam.” Ghost shoved him toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Adam struggle to comprehend his simple order. “Can you fucking knock at least?”

“Shit, I guess.” Adam shook his head and cleared his throat, his arms still ziptied behind his back. He tapped the bottom of the door with his sneaker, kicking just loud enough for those inside to hear. “Hey! Brandon! Zach? Zachary! Zach I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door I’ll deny your membership!”

They could hear hushed, frantic voices behind the door as his frat brothers tried to decide their course of action. Adam was getting impatient, kicking at the door handle forcefully in hopes to break it off and gain entry by force. 

“Here, I’ll give it a try buddy.” Ghost said, patting his shoulder before gripping him by the hair and bashing his forehead into the solid redwood door. “It’s rude to leave a guest at the door!” Ghost shouted ‘knocking’ on the door repeatedly with the side of Adam’s head.

“Fuck! Open the fuckin’ door!” Adam breathed in short, shallow inhales as if he might hyperventilate from the stress. His lungs starting to constrict and make his face turn red, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as his breathing became labored.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Ghost asked with a slight laugh, “Breathing in all that frat boy bullshit caught up to you?” 

“I-I have asthma.” He wheezed, choosing to save his breath instead of wasting it by feeding into Ghost’s deliberate emotional jab. 

“Are you gonna die if you don't get it?” Ghost asked annoyedly, seemingly miffed that he wasn’t able to get a real reaction out of him.

“M-may… maybe.” He coughed, dry and raspy, from deep in his throat. Adam was instinctively trying to reach up to hold his neck, unable to because of the zip ties, realizing he couldn’t only made things worse. Being denied the simple instinctive human reaction caused his panic to flare up into a frenzy, the formerly sure footed, bull headed, asshole was reduced to a scared kid on his knees, choking on air as he fought against his own body to breathe.

“Shit.” Ghost sighed and rapped on the window with his leathered knuckles. “For real guys, get this little shit his inhaler. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust the window.” He yelled, smacking at the glass with his palm. 

“You come in first!” A voice from behind the door shouted as the doorknob jiggled loosely, practically hanging by a thread from the beating Adam had given it.

“Sure.” Ghost called out, certainly not planning to follow that demand. He grabbed Adam by his shoulders and lifted him up. Forcing him to stand on his own two feet before shouting for them to open the door again.

The door slowly opened just a crack, a fist holding a long knife used to filet fish lashed out wildly, aiming at everything and nothing at the same time. Ghost was thankful for his quick reflexes, as much as he wanted to ensure these guys didn’t live to see the morning sun, he promised he’d only scare them. So, he pulled Adam back and kicked the wrist connected to the hand holding the knife, causing the wielder to drop it with a hiss of pain. Ghost stomped on the blade, drawing his foot backward to slide it out of the way and out of reach.

“Great job, almost stabbed your buddy here.” He grunted, hefting Adam up and pushing him forward. “Somebody catch him, get him his inhaler.” He said in a firm voice, expecting nothing but compliance. 

Adam fell to his knees and a lamp flickered on before illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue, allowing Ghost to see what was waiting for him behind the door. What he saw made him laugh out loud: the couch flipped on its side, the kitchen table pushed against the couch as some kind of make shift ‘fort’ and four guys with pots and pans for weapons. 

“Where’s Gordon? Didn’t realize I was walking in to Hell’s Kitchen.” He chuckled, flipping out both his knives, making sure to flick Adam’s blood at his closest frat brother, just for fun.

“What do you want man? Why? His inhaler?” The youngest and most meek of the group, Zachary spoke up, “If you’re gonna kill us why get him his inhaler?”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?” He laughed, wiping the leftover blood on his jeans. “Get the guy his inhaler, please.” He gritted out.

“Alright.” Wyatt nodded, coming out from beneath the kitchen table, he warily made his way to one of the bedrooms and returned quickly with Adam’s rescue inhaler. 

“Great job,” Ghost rubbed the two blades together in a crisscross motion before turning one toward Zach. “Get me everyone’s phones… keys too.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded quickly, tossing his own phone on the floor at Ghost’s feet. “Brandon, please.” He breathed out, thrusting out his hand impatiently when his friend didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I’m not giving that psycho my goddamn phone!” He yelled, shoving Zachary away from him.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Ghost growled, stomping over to yank Zachary back to his feet after scooping up his phone from the floor. “Hand it over, like I said, I’m not gonna kill you. Just do what I say and I’ll leave.”

“Th-thanks?” Zachary scrambled back out of Ghosts grip, giving him Wyatts phone before he joined Adam and his other friend on the floor.

“Mhm.” Ghost nodded over his shoulder at him, watching him move to regroup with his friends. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun around, only getting clipped on the shoulder by the cast iron skillet Brandon was holding over his head as if preparing to bring it down on him again.

“Goddamnit!” Ghost yelled, rolling his shoulder and feeling the muscles pinch uncomfortably. Holding both knives in a back handed grip allowed him to swing them closed quickly, holding them in his palms tightly as he wound up to punch Brandon. “Tryin’ to be civil here.” He growled, connecting his fist to brandon’s chin in an upper cut hard enough to make Rocky cry.

His target dropped the skillet and it clamored to the ground in a loud crash, followed by the fool who thought it would be a good idea to hit Ghost with a frying pan. Once Brandon was on his knees, his mouth bloodied and split open, Ghost crouched in front of him and held his hand out. Instead of receiving Brandon's phone, Ghost was kindly gifted a spray of bloody spit over the white of his mask. He breathed in and let out a tired sigh, standing up he brought his knee up quickly and aimed at the same spot, this time getting a bigger, louder reaction from Brandon. 

The yowl Brandon let out was ear piercing, with shaking hands he tossed his phone to Ghost and cupped his palm beneath his chin, spitting out globs of blood and something… meaty.

“Yuh mad meh bighth ma tong ov.” He looked up at Ghost, a sniveling mess of red saliva and sobs, holding up his hand where he held the tip of his tongue in his palm.

“I didn’t make you do that. You made a stupid choice and you got a shitty result.” Ghost scoffed, and shouted to Zach, the easiest to deal with out of them all, he was the most impressionable. “Go put this on ice.” He gestured to the hunk of flesh dismissively, groaning in frustration when he heard very loud, very messy, alcohol tainted vomiting coming from the right of him. 

“You fuckin’ serious?” He half laughed, half barked. Shaking his head, he snatched the tongue and walked to the kitchen, thankful that all the cabins here had a practically identical floor plan. Muttering to himself he grabbed a clean solo cup and filled it with ice from the fridge, dropping the flesh into the cup and returning to thrust it into Brandons hand.

“Don’t lose it, they can sew that shit back on.” He sighed, gathering up the phones he took a seat in one of the kitchen table chairs, facing the group to keep an eye on them

“Not a single one of you called the cops?” He laughed, scrolling through call history on two phones at once. “Why’s that?” 

“W-”

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.” Adam coughed, glaring at Zachary.

“Let the boy speak.” Ghost waved off Adam, taking on the torch of authority over the group for the time being.

“I- well,” Zach swallowed hard, it was clear that the kid was in over his head. This wasn’t his normal friend group, he stuck out like a sore thumb, he was the lackey and being the lackey of the group is just about as well paying as being a doormat. “Adam, I have to. You know I have to.”

“No you don’t!” He lunged toward Zachary, with how they were all acting Ghost was almost positive if he left now they’d all end up killing each other anyway.

“Shut up.” Ghost barked, making a frisbee from one of the cellphones, catching Adam in the outer corner of his already bruised left eye. He hissed in pain, but gave no more complaints.

“Go on.” Ghost nodded to Zach, standing up so he could spin his chair around and straddle it, using the backrest to lean against comfortably as he listened.

“We didn’t rent this cabin.” Zachary spat out quickly, looking pale in the face as Adam smacked him in the back of the head, muttering something about ‘stupid freshies’.

“That’s it?” Ghost laughed, smacking both hands on his knees, rubbing his leather palms against his jeans.

“We broke in, it’s not ours.” Zachary nodded frantically, hoping the quicker he spilled his guts, the quicker the ordeal would be over with. “I’m supposed to be gettin-”

“Inducted into the frat, I know, I heard.” Ghost sighed, standing up and grabbing the back of Zachary’s shirt. “Look, take a good look. Do these idiots seem like the kind of people you want to be spending everyday of your life with for the foreseeable future?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, hands shaking with tremors of anxiety.

“Good choice. Did you drive here?” Ghost asked, getting a nod in response. “Great, it’s your car right?”

“Yes.” Zach nodded again, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with his ‘friends’. Ghost pulled out the phones, letting Zachary take his.

“Now, before you leave I want you to make a quick little post and send a few emails, okay?” Ghost said, pointing to the cellphone screen. “Can I trust you to do that Zach?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He nodded, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve airdropped a bunch of screenshots from their phones. Email them to the Dean and the head of your frat house. Probably should take a good look at them yourself. You should know what you were about to agree to partake in.” Ghost said, kicking his boot straight into Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to tackle him. “That’s enough!”

Ghost shoved him to the ground, wrestling with him until he could get his hands behind his back. Busy with the wad of zipties he was pulling from his pockets, he didn’t notice Adam had recovered enough to join in on the scuffle. Just as he was pulling the ziptie around Wyatts wrists, Adam’s foot landed on top of Ghost, connecting with the back of his neck. A blinding pain rippled through Ghost, so quickly, so intensely that a wave of nausea washed over him like a tsunami. He felt green as he rolled off of Wyatt and out from under Adam who still had his heel on his shoulder. Ghost stood up, stumbling to his feet he forced himself to swallow the bile that crept up his esophagus. While Adam fell to the floor, unable to catch himself due to his restraints.

Ghost saw nothing but crimson red when he caught his balance, flipping out both knives in a backhanded hold, giving him the use of his fists and the convenience of a downward slash of his blade if needed. With one fist in front of his face, his other shot out to pop Adam on the cheek, tilting his fist to drag the cold steel down his ‘assailant’s’ arm. Blooming ichor cropped up through the deep split in the flesh, the heat of the fresh wound warming the blade for its next mark. Adam screamed, his hands and arms wriggling in an attempt to hold his bicep instinctually as he took in the sight of the gushing blood, in his panicked state he did what came to his mind first, trying to squish the meat back together by shrugging his shoulder up, tucking his chin there and pressing his arm against the floor.

“Listen here you little shit.” Ghost said, crouching down over top of the wailing guy beneath him. “I promised I wouldn’t kill any of you, I don’t like breaking promises. But, I’m not above it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Adam yelled, thrashing around, spilling his blood across the floor. Wyatt whimpering near the two of them as he pushed himself away with his feet on the slick floor.

“I would.” Ghost said, standing up and resting his booted foot on Adam’s skull to apply enough pressure to solidify his threat while he turned his attention back to Zachary. “You done?”

“I think so.” He nodded, handing Ghost the phone so he could approve the email and facebook post.

“Perfect, you should major in journalism. They’ll be begging for more on this story, might as well cash out.” Ghost said with a dark, deep laugh. “Nice to meet you Zach, get the fuck out.” Ghost shoved the phone back into his chest along with the handful of car keys.

Zachary took his phone and his set of keys, dropping the rest on the ground. He stood awkardly as though he weren’t positive that Ghost had meant what he said. Scanning the floor he took in the mess of furniture, blood, beer cans, and the quaking forms of the three frat brothers that he would be leaving behind.

“Wait. Where’s Justin?” Zachary asked, spinning around to look about the room, noticing the last member of their group was missing.

“Do you always travel in a pack?” Ghost grumbled, shoving Brandon and Adam together, lacing two more zipties through theirs to connect them. Then he brought Wyatt over, attaching him to the other two in the same manner, “Walk.”

“How do you expect us to walk like this?” Wyatt asked, a scowl on his face while the huddle moved slowly toward the coat closet near the front door.

“Well you’re walkin’ aren’t you?” Ghost growled, opening the door and uncerimoniously pushing them into the closet. He shut the door and grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier, pushing it beneath the closet door handle to wedge it closed.

“Zach!” Ghost yelled, seeing the boy coming out of the kitchen with a large knife. “Seriously? I was starting to like you!”

“Wait!” Zachary screeched, throwing his hands up and dropping the knife to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, i- i was just grabbing it to pop their tires.”

“Huh.” Ghost said, letting his body relax ever so slightly. “Okay well, did you find the other one?”

The yelling, screams and thumping coming from inside the cabin were too much for you to sit back and allow to go on, unchecked. You had decided after the loudest, most pained scream you’d heard so far rang out into the night, that you could no longer obey Ghost’s strict orders. After shoving your small backpack into Ghost’s larger one, you put it on and pulled the straps tighter to fit your smaller frame. Once it was secure enough that it wouldn’t hinder your ability to move swiftly, you made your way to the truck closest to you, hoping to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet despite the ginger steps you took, occasionally glancing toward the window and the front door of the cabin, willing Ghost to come out so you wouldn’t have to get any closer. After passing the truck, you ducked behind the Mazda, using it as cover when you spotted the front door slowly opening.

Peering through the dark glass of the car window you were able to make out a figure heading your way. Immediately retracting your sigh of relief when you noticed the height of the approaching person wasn’t nearly as tall as what you were expecting. As the figure lifted its head, rounding the corner of the house, your worries were confirmed. It wasn’t Ghost.

The weight of the possibility that Ghost really was the one crying out in pain was a pressure on your chest that went far beyond suffocating. It was chest crushing, lung squeezing, and breath halting. Without thinking you spun quickly, the gravel being displaced under your heel made a noise loud enough to have you clapping your hands over your mouth as you panted in short breaths. The soft rustling of the grass from the stranger’s movements stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence blanketing the area. For a moment it was just you and your uncontrolled breathing, the adrenaline saturated blood rushing through you as your heart beat echoed in your ears.

The illusion of being in a bubble of silent safety was shattered in less than a second. A rough hand grabbed you by the handle of your backpack and pulled you up to your feet and against the side of the car.

”So it was you.” The male voice from behind you sneered, squishing your face against the hood of the car. “Where’s the other girl?”

”She’s not here, she left earlier. W-way before I came over here.” You lied, panicking as you swallowed the rest of your anxiety induced word vomit in hopes that he’d believe the shortened version.

“So it’s just you and the sissy-boy, huh?” He prodded, trying to unzip your back pack. “What ya got in here? You stealing shit too?”

”No!” You wormed your way out of one of the straps, turning uncomfortably in your attacker’s firm grasp to pry the bag from his hands. It’s one thing to disobey very clear and concise instructions. It’s a worse thing to get caught because of your disobedience. But it would be more than a metaphorical death sentence for Ghost’s gun to end up in the hands of someone else.

“No, I haven’t stolen anything.” Your voice evening out after being raised an octave from the initial startled ‘no’ from your lips.

”Then what’s in the bag?” He questioned aggressively.

In that moment, you knew you had two choices. You could give it up or have it forcibly taken from you. Though there was a third option tapping at the back of your head, the little devil on your shoulder pulling on your ear and hoping you’d take the chance.

”This.” With your decision made, no matter how poor, you followed through. Pulling out the pistol from the bag, pointing it directly at his chest.

”Whoa! Whoa, easy.” He laughed nervously, putting his hands up and backing off as his eyes darted around, looking for an out.

”The trunk.” Your voice stern in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Open the trunk, get in.”

You gestured to the back of the car with the gun, watching him closely while he moved with slow, calculated steps. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but by the time you noticed, it was too late. The very second he opened the trunk, he tried shoving you inside.

Wether it was an act of the gods or a a quick tug from your personal imp, you’ll never know, but somehow your finger pulled the trigger. A loud blast echoed through the trees around you, the man stumbled back, holding his chest. The recoil of the pistol startled you, though the realization that the gun really had been loaded this whole time, startled you even more.

“Shit.” Ghost’s body flew on autopilot when the crack of the gun reached the cabin. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, but only one stuck out clearly. Only one held his attention. You.

Zach hit the floor, his hands over his head when he registered the sound for what it was, his ‘friends’ shouting in panic behind the closet door. He made not effort to free them nor to move at all, simply frozen in fear as Ghost stepped over him, through the threshold of the front door. Jumping from the porch he hit the ground in a full sprint, only stopping when he caught sight of you, arms out in front of you with the gun still in your hands.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard muffled words as a gentle leather hand peeled the gun from your grasp. His hands searching you for any injuries, satisfied that the only wound you’d sustained was mental, he scooted you away, shoving his arms under the armpits of the corpse before hefting the body from the ground and into the open trunk behind you. After making sure he really was dead, Ghost wiped the blood off on the man’s jeans and carefully guided you to the side of the car, having you sit down.

”You’ve got good aim for such a little doe.” He said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a tiny bit. “Here I was thinkin’ it was deer season.”

”No?” He sighed, patting your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips before he straightened up. “Too soon?”

“Just a little bit.” You said, looking up at him from were you sat.

”Don’t cry, it’s okay.” He said, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about nothin’ okay?”

”Promise?”

“Promise.” He nodded, holding out his pinky finger and waggling it at you until you linked yours with his. “Good girl.” His voice was rough, but it was clear it wasn’t from anger. His body language was relaxed, like he was relieved.

He walked back to the trunk of the car and hummed to himself, a song that triggered a memory for you. It felt like years had passed since you’d heard it, but the beat came to the forefront of your mind with an image in tow. Followed by another, then another, and another. Ghost was humming the lyrics, but your mind was filling in the the missing instrumentals.

While you were busy trying to connect where and when you’d heard that tune, Ghost was busy cutting the shirt off the corpse of the frat boy you’d shot. With the blood soaked fabric out of the way the gaping wound in his flesh was easily visible. He let out a low whistle as he took in the damage from the close range shot. He shook his head with a little laugh and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, subtly giving his half-hard cock a bit more room.

He steeled himself for the next bit of his task, finding the bullet. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms to reposition his sleeves without having to touch them, before he sunk the middle and ring finger of both hands into the wound to pull it apart, lifting one side he dug around and pried open the rip in the muscle.

“Gross.” He whispered, making a gagging sound when he heard the wet tearing of the fascia, feeling the stringy substance snapping under his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice, trying to get your attention without startling you.

“Huh?” You turned your head, only registering you were being spoken to after he snapped his fingers at you.

“Can you get me some gloves from the little side zippy?” He asked, pointing to the backpack now at your feet. “And there’s a thingy of wipes in the big front zippy.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You nodded, moving slowly as you came down from the chemical rush you’d just experienced.

“No, no.” He quickly shook his head when you stood up to walk over to him. “Just set ‘em up there.” He gestured to the back windshield with his elbow, so you did as he asked, recognizing that he was doing something that was most definitely unpleasant to witness.

“Thanks doll.” He nodded, bending down and wiping the blood on his leather gloves onto the ground, dragging his fingers back and forth through the grass.

He stepped on the tip of each glove to pull them off his hands, quickly switching over to the latex gloves to continue the dirty work he shielded you from. You’d been through enough, he already felt immense guilt for what he’d brought you into, there was no need to add insult to injury. Ghost picked up where he left off, prodding around beneath the flesh, he realized he’d have to dig a bit deeper. Separating the tissue from the muscle he forced his flat hand underneath the left pectoral as far as possible.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his middle finger following the rippled meat until he lost the bullet’s path.

“Bad news bears.” He called out to you, popping his head around the side of the trunk. “I need you to look in the toolbox in the back of that truck. Put on some gloves first though.”

“What? Why?” You asked, snapping the latex into place on your fingers after pulling out a pair for yourself.

“See if he’s got some bolt cutters.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If he doesn’t have bolt cutters get me a hammer or crowbar. It’d be sweet if he has a crowbar.”

“A crowbar?” You asked out of curiosity, then thought better of it. “Actually, nevermind.”

You climbed up into the truckbed and lifted the toolbox lid. There were no bolt cutters, only small wire cutters. Two hammers, a plethora of screwdrivers and a random assortment of metal fittings and other equipment. Buried beneath a pile of ratchet straps you found the crowbar.

“Oh hell yeah.” Ghost chuckled, taking it from you as you held it out at a distance.

“Uh, probably should cover your ears.” He said apologetically.

He pulled the corpse from the trunk, letting it thump on the gravel so he could plant his foot firmly on the abdomen, leaning forward with the curved side of the crowbar in his hands, the flat side pressed into the space between his ribs, just beneath the left pec.

Ghost put his weight into the crowbar, sinking it in with one firm, downward shove. It was a difficult process, one that needed a balance between force and delicacy, Ghost was only experienced at one of those attributes. He pushed too hard, going through the connective tissue between the ribs as planned and down into the chest cavity.

A wet, goopy pop met his ears before the blood began to seep out of the punctured viscera hidden in the chest cavity.

“Oh, yum.” He muttered under his breath as he wiggled the crowbar back and forth as he pulled it up out of the soft substance he’d pierced. The noise was similar to the suction of pulling your fingers out of a jar of hair gel.

Ghost left the crowbar sticking up out of the wound to jog over to the stack of firewood lined up against the cabin, grabbing a thickly cut log. Passing it back and forth between his hands as he returned to the body.

Placing the log on the torso as he resumed humming the song from earlier. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder, seeing his bloody hand on the open lid of the trunk for balance as he stepped up onto the end of the crowbar sticking out of the corpse.

Pushing down on it with his body weight, using the firewood as leverage to crack open the rib cage. You felt sick to your stomach when you saw him jump on the crowbar, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of bone breaking under the force of his movements.

Grateful that you couldn’t see what was happening below the car, only having seen Ghost’s upper body’s part in the act. Nauseated, you pulled the pink silk from your face, gagging loudly as you held your stomach and bent over.

“Shit, baby you okay?” Ghost asked, coming around to check on you. He hesitated, knowing his hands were covered in… unsavory substances.

“Get back.” Your hand out behind you to stop him from coming closer. “Just do what you need to do and let me throw up in peace.”

“Oh, princess I’m sorry.” He said softly, unsure of what to do. He was in clean up mode, he’d never had company during this process before. So he did what he knew to be necessary.

He couldn’t have you throwing up and leaving any more evidence of your presence at this crime scene. He grimaced, wiping his latex gloves with a baby wipe from the pack you’d set out. Then unzipped a pocket on his backpack, pulling out a large ziploc bag filled with smaller ones. He dumped the smaller ones out, handing you the bigger, quart sized one.

“If you’re gonna upchuck, make sure it gets in the bag.” He said patting your back, nodding at your grunt of acknowledgment and leaving you to your own devices.

With the rib cage popped open, he wedged his hand beneath it, feeling the squishy, slippery surface of one of his your victim’s lungs. He braved it by clenching his teeth tightly to distract himself from the sound and sensation accompanying his methodical squeezing of the organ.

“Finally.” He sighed in satisfaction when he felt the hard lump of metal buried in the lung. He pinched it to keep the bullet from escaping his hand, not wanting to go through the disgusting process again.

Now with it between his fingers, he was able to dig around with his other fingers to pull the lung out of the chest cavity to access the area with both hands to dislodge the bullet.

“Got it!” He said proudly, dropping it into one of the small ziploc bags.

He dumped the body back into the trunk of the car, not bothering to removed the crowbar or slide the lung back where it belonged. Slamming the trunk shut he cleaned up his leather gloves until they were good as new, switching them out once more.

He disposed of his latex gloves in the same ziploc bag as the bullet, then made his way to you once again. He was pleased to see that you had not thrown up and the color was returning to your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, rubbing your back as he picked up the bag and started walking toward the woods with you.

“Hey what’s that song you-“ You started, thinking if you heard the name of it you might be able to place it with the memory attached.

“Zachary, buddy.” Ghost grumbled, hearing the boys panicked squeal as he emerged from the cabin with his phone flashlight training on the two of you.

“Who is that?” He pointed to you, causing you to turn fully to face him. “Oh my god, you’re that girl.”

Ghost threw up his hands in frustration, dragging one down the side of his mask. “This is my lovely lady.”

“Leaving?” Ghost asked, putting his left hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Y-yeah.” Zach nodded, moving slowly as he walked toward his car which just so happened to be the Mazda.

“We still cool?” Ghost asked, signaling you to stay put while he ‘escorted’ Zach to his vehicle.

“Oh, yeah of course.” Zach said nervously as Ghost opened up the driver side door for him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for all this.” Ghost said, sticking out his hand for a handshake as Zach climbed into the car.

“Right.” He cleared his throat accepting the handshake which gave Ghost the opportunity to pull out his gun from his hoodie pocket, pistol whipping him with his temple as the target.

“I was really hoping this kid wouldn’t get in the way, he was the only decent one out of them all.” Ghost grumbled, throwing the comment over his shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy in front of him.

He grabbed another zip tie, pressing Zachary’s finger tips against the plastic before placing his foot on the gas pedal and pulling the tie to secure it in place.

Ghost reached around, turning the key in the ignition and leaning over Zach to put the car in neutral.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said sternly, watching you to make sure you were listening. “Good. Turn around, stay there please.”

“Thank you baby,” He called over his shoulder as he started to push the car, getting it rolling toward the lake. Once it was close enough he put it in park and shouted out to you again. “Cover your ears!”

Taking Zach’s hand he wrapped his fingers around the grip, positioning his pointer finger on the trigger and putting his other limp hand in the left hand cut out in the steering wheel. He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through the soft flesh on the underside of his chin and straight through his brain, exiting at the top of his skull, lodging in the dented metal roof of the car.

Ghost let the gun fall along with Zach’s hand before throwing the car in drive and pushing down on his knee to put pressure on the gas pedal. Quickly jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut. Stumbling back and falling on his ass as the car sped through the yard and straight into the lake, sinking slowly.

Ghost stood up, dusting himself off before punching the air in a little victory celebration before he had to return to ‘caregiver to shell shocked girlfriend’.

Ghost approached you slowly, a soft hand on your shoulder to alert you to his presence. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a tight hug, squeezing you as he rocked side to side.

“I know this has been a long, really not so great night.” He said softly, resting his chin on your head. “But I need you to tell me something okay, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest, sniffling while you prepared for whatever it was he had in store for you this time.

“Did you touch anything with your bare hands?” He asked, loosening his tight grip around you. “Think hard. I need to know so I can take care of it.”

Your mind raced, you’d touched a lot of things. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind that you might’ve left fingerprints. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if it had just been your original plan. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if you had just listened to Ghost and stayed put.

“Chalk and spray cans.” You said, your eyes wide as if trying to see the various items you’d left evidence behind on. “The truck. The window. That car, in the lake.”

“Did you touch anything inside the car?” He asked, tilting your head back to look at you.

“Not with my hands. I bumped the inside of the trunk with my arm.” You said, crossing your arms to hug yourself while he held you.

“Did you keep your hood up? Touch your hair or anything?” He asked, swatting at your hand when your lifted it to touch your hair.

“No I don’t think so.” You shook your head, hearing him sigh.

“Okay.” He took a breath, “here’s the plan:”

“You, sit your ass right here.” He said, pushing down on your shoulder gently to make you sit. “I’m gonna go get the cans, and wipe down the window. The truck… do you remember where you touched it?”

“The side facing the woods, then I climbed up to get that stuff from the tool box.” You said, holding up your still gloved hands. “But I had on gloves for the toolbox.”

“Perfect. Keep those on.”

He patted your head and went about his tasks, making the clean up quick as he jogged through the yard and picked up the cans he’d tossed in a pile. Taking an alcohol wipe to the window and then using more than a handful as he roughly scrubbed the side of the truck.

Thankfully, it seemed that daddy’s money kept Adam’s car well maintained so he didn’t need to worry about leaving one side of the truck shiny and the other dirty. This trip was probably the only time that truck had ever seen dirt. He used what was left of the chalk spray on that side of the truck just to even it out, throwing everything away in a grocery bag to shove in his backpack.

Everything was in place, everything was handled, everything was fine. It was all fine.

Except for you.

Diary Entry: September 4th early morning

Okay, so here I am, in a goddamn tree, sitting outside your cabin, watching you walk outside every so often to vomit. Your sister and Luke think you’ve got food poisoning or some shit like that.

You’re mad because I made you strip naked before I would let you climb back in your window. You’re mad because I had to bag up your clothes to get rid of. You’re paranoid because there hasn’t been a peep from across the lake.

Luke made you cry because he was woken up by ‘really loud pops’ and he’s ’almost for certain it was a gun, how did you not wake up?’.

I made you cry because I asked if you were okay.

You made yourself cry because you just had to take one last look as we walked away and you of course thought you saw a few bubbles float to the surface of the lake. ‘Oh my god, what if they’re still alive?’

Baby. They’re beyond dead.

Speaking of, can I just say that it was fucking hot as hell to see you standing there with my gun like that? Holy shit.

Then realizing there was a whole person you blew to pieces in front of you? Lord have mercy, Lucifer take my soul.

I wish I could say it to your face. It’s a compliment, but I don’t think you’d take it that way. You’re just so perfect. You’re beautiful even in moments like that, with those fearful eyes and that pretty pout. The little blush creeping up your cheeks and the squeak you made when I took the gun from you.

If you weren’t so distraught I would’ve ravaged you right then and there.

I forget sometimes that you’re just a girl. You’re a girl that I love and that I just wanted to have a good time with. I just wanted you to have a little taste of danger. I didn’t want you to murder someone on accident. I didn’t want to kill Zach.

But they’re both at the bottom of the lake and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m sorry that I seemed insensitive. I really didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand why you’re grieving a person you didn’t know. The guy you killed was a gross, horrible, disgusting waste of space. Zach was okay, he’s just fucking stupid and had to come out and get a look at you.

You understand right? I couldn’t just let him walk off after he recognized you.

Maybe you’ve learned your lesson. When I say something, I mean it. When I tell you to listen, it’s for a reason.

When the little voice in my head says ‘hey that’s probably not a good idea’ I think I’ll start listening. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Diary Entry: September 7th

I’m picking up the vibe that you’re alittle bit upset with me. Like actually me, Anakin. You texted me that you got home but I was expecting you to come over or ask me to come over… since you’ve been gone the whole weekend. But you didn’t.

Are you just that freaked out by the whole thing? I told you it’s not your fault. I don’t know what else to do. People die. Sometimes they just die alittle earlier than they’re meant to. That’s just the way of things.

I was there. Yet I still feel out of the loop.

Cause there’s only so much information I have you know? I have my side of the story. But you’re keeping yours locked up in the Fort Knox of your mind.

You can’t just ignore me because of one little mistake on your part. Yeah, it’s not your fault but also it kind of is. You should’ve listened, but if I get back on that thought train I’ll be riding it for the next few stops.

So instead let’s focus on how I’m going absolutely insane because you won’t even let Ghost inside your apartment. I’ve never been mad at you but I’m so close to being pissed. A door stop? Really? New window latch?

If I didn’t have cameras in your place I’d be worried you found some other guy to do the window latch installation. I was pleasantly surprised (also proud) to see you putting it in all by yourself. If only it wasn’t simultaneously infuriating.

I think I’m going to have to do alittle research to see how I can worm my way inside without actually causing any damage to the door or window. If you’d just leave the apartment for even a few minutes I’d be able to go in through the door. But no, of course I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I totally considered throwing a brick through the glass of your living room window but then it’d be a few days before the super would ever even get around to fixing it, you’d have a gaping hole that anyone could climb in through and I’d be sleep deprived because I’d be sitting out there 24/7.

The only upside to that would be getting to see you. Although I have a feeling you’d be even more upset if I actually did do that… so I won’t, even though it’s very tempting.

Is it completely horrible of me to be driven by ulterior motives as well? Tempting… I’m all worked up and it’s really difficult to settle for my hand after having felt the flower of Eden between your pretty thighs.

I need you. I need you in a bad way. So bad I very briefly let myself wonder if it would be cheating if I bought a fleshlight and taped your picture on it.

Logically, duh I know it’s not cheating but it feels like it.

Maybe I can invent Clone-a-Coochie. You know like the make it yourself, at home dildo? Great business idea if we’re being honest. A perfect replica of your perfect pussy? Bitch, I’d put that on display.

‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Oh this? Yeah, this is my girl’s pussy.’

Seriously, it’s basically the same concept of the Roman and Greeks always putting flaccid dicks on their statues. It’s art.

Art that has more than one purpose! I love shit with more than one use. It’s pretty, it can be fucked, it’s pretty. Look at that. Three whole things.

But even if I did invent it, I’d still have to get into your apartment to make it in the first place and then I wouldn’t even need it anymore because you’d be there.

I’m rambling. This is what happens when I’m nervous. You’ve made me nervous. If I didn’t hate taking pages from notebooks I’d rip this out because I’m a fucking idiot and wrote it in ink so now the inner thoughts that should’ve been kept to myself are in permanent physical form.

Notebook law is that you can’t tear pages from a composition notebook. If there’s one law I’m not gonna break, it’s that one. Cause that’s just disgusting, vile.

Anyway, the B train has been tossing around some thoughts while the A train plowed through the brain car that gets rid of my bad ideas.

B train says I should figure out how to get in your bedroom window. There’s no fire escape under it. You’re on the second floor and there’s no way I’m rappelling down the side of an eight story building.

My need for instant gratification said I could commandeer a fire truck. They have really tall ladders. But then I’d have to worry about hiding a fire truck and that would be practically impossible so honestly, it’s for the best that A train ran that one over.

So I think my best bet is to violate every single safety protocol on ladders and push the dumpster over, stick a ladder on top and close my eyes and hope I make it to your window.

So, if I see you, I’ve succeeded. If I haven’t. Maybe don’t look out your bedroom window.

Ps.

I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t. This would be just so much easier if you’d flap your fucking jaws like you love to do. Just open your mouth and speak.

Date: September 7th

Anakin has called, texted, emailed, knocked, unlocked your door and been sent straight back across the hallway.

Unable to look him in the eye after what you’ve done, you’ve repeatedly ignored and pushed him away. You tell yourself it’s because you’re suspicious of his behavior, because he was spotted by your sister’s husband at that store. That’s why you’re ignoring him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that you killed someone and watched your other (stalker) boyfriend kill another man and stage the scene as a hostage-murder-suicide.

Ghost left those boys in the closet, zip tied together. You’ve watched the news everyday on a continuous loop for the last three days and you’ve not seen a single hint of information regarding the crime. They’ve not been reported missing. They’ve not escaped to your knowledge.

What was reported on however, was that a group of young men affiliated with the Alpha Sigma Psi Fraternity from the upstate university are under suspension pending investigation into their ‘hazing practices and illicit activities’. No names have been released, just ages.

It seems that Ghost really did think of everything.

How? How does he know what to do? How did he perfectly situate a very messy crime scene to fit the narrative of frat hazing gone wrong? How did he find the proof and get it to the university? Is there actual proof?

By the time those boys are found everything will have been taken care of and seen as a closed case before it’s even opened:

A young boy, a recruit, was taken out to the lake for a weekend hazing ritual. The last of his ‘trials’ to join Alpha Sigma Phi. All was well, drinking, drugs, strip pong. A bit of good natured, easy to clean up ‘vandalism’ to get him loosened up before they go into his final initiation phase. Recruit finds out what horrible things his soon to be frat brothers have done and now want him to do, then he attempts to escape, kills in self defense, ties others up and plans to dump the body. Recruit digs around in the corpse to get the bullet to get rid of the evidence, realizes it’s too late for him, feels guilty and kills himself.

The only loose ends are the other guys in the closet. Why not kill them too? And if you’re going to go through all the trouble of taking out the bullet, then shoot yourself… what’s the point of taking it out?

Maybe it just shows the panicked thought pattern of a scared kid who messed up, fell in with the wrong crowd and couldn’t get himself out of it without violence being involved. Maybe it shows that a girl and her masked secret boyfriend tried to have a little fun and ended up committing double murder.

Ghost explained that Zach saw you, would be able to identity you if he went to the police, there was no choice. He had to kill him to protect you.

When you questioned him about his gun and if it could be traced to him he told you it was bought third hand, unregistered and given as a gift. Not to mention he’s never handled it with his bare hands and he filed off the serial numbers after he received it.

Because ‘you never know’. What does that mean? You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to taint your image of him further.

There hasn’t been a linear pattern of thought since that night, thoughts, ideas, monologues, even fully fleshed out daydreams have been overlapping and going straight through each other at an alarming rate. Silence is a distant memory, the constant chatter of your inner voice has become your new normal.

A voice, a real one, called out to you for the umpteenth time today. Pounding on your front door, you didn’t even bother to look through the peephole. You didn’t get up and tell him to fuck off. You even turned the sound off on your phone hours ago, when you checked it you had over sixty messages. Some from Anakin, some from Ghost, Luke and your sister. Even Vigo from the diner. Everyone was concerned about your mysterious absence.

You just had too much going on at once to deal with answering any messages or questions. Too much happening to explain why you’ve called in for the past two days. Brain too full to comprehend the email from your English professor, wondering why you’ve not turned in your online quiz.

How can you be expected to lead your normal life after killing a living being with your own hands?

September 8th, 8:43 pm

Ghost got into position, feet firmly on the ground with both hands flat on the side of the dumpster, thankful it was on wheels as he pushed the heavy container toward your bedroom window. It scraped along the wall, metal on brick making a horrendous racket that he was relieved only lasted a few seconds.

He didn’t need a 20 foot ladder of his own. So naturally he swiped one from a construction site, planning to return if before the sunrise. After he precariously secured and balanced the ladder against the wall, atop the dumpster, he made his way up to your bedroom window.

Luckily this window also had an incredibly old style of latch and you hadn’t replaced it. So, he was able to use his heavy duty magnet to wiggle the curved latch out of the ring that held the window shut. The only difference from your living room window was that this one was smaller, still plenty big enough for him to fit through, and a bit higher off the ground as well.

The awkward position of the ladder, paired with his teeny tiny fear of heights made it the slightest bit terrifying to enter the window feet first. Head first was the only logical solution. He was long enough to hit the floor with his hands and ‘walk’ the rest of himself into your room without harming himself. So he did exactly that.

Bending at the waist he shimmied until his legs were bent at the knee to help him balance, both hands on the ground as he pulled himself forward enough to get away from the wall so that he could drop his feet down one at a time. It was awkward and uncomfortable, however worth it and necessary in his mind.

Once he gained entry and the window was shut and locked, Ghost walked out of your bedroom to hear your shower running. He was tired of waiting. Tired of attempting to give you a bit of space, alittle leeway for your healing and health. He did the only logical thing, pull out a bent paper clip to jimmy pinhole lock of your bathroom door knob.

He cheered for himself internally when he heard the faint *click* signaling he’d succeeded in popping the simple mechanism of the button lock on your side of the door. Carefully and quietly he entered the bathroom, making himself at home on the sink counter to wait until you were finished.

He closed his eyes, listening to the water pelting your soft skin and the sound of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, the product bubbling up to cleanse the day away. The sweet scent was soothing, he’d missed it, now that he was able to smell you, feel your presence again… he was a thousand times calmer. His mind clearing enough to think rationally.

You were living and breathing. You were okay.

You were tangible again. He hadn’t gone a single day without you in such a long time that he felt like an addict experiencing withdrawal during your time away. He was finally getting that first hit that soothed the hurt, steadied the shakes and warmed the ice of his veins.

Spotting your robe and towel sitting nearby, he picked up the robe and held it to his chest to transfer some of his warmth to it. It was a simple gesture, one that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but you were his everything and he’d been deprived of you for too long. He considered that maybe he needed to start doing more of these micro feel-good acts to keep you satisfied with him.

It wasn’t as good as tossing it in the dryer, but the dryer was at the laundromat and he really didn’t want to have to climb up that ladder again. Holding it to his chest was the best he could do and he hoped it was enough. He hoped he was enough.

The water shut off, the following sound was your hands wringing out your hair, the stream of water hitting the shower floor. Pushing back the curtain you looked down at the bath mat as you stepped out, nearly slipping when you lifted your head and saw Ghost sitting quietly. He gave an awkward, tiny wave and crossed his feet at the ankles, clasping his hands in his lap around your robe.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice quiet and distant.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said while you toweled off, holding up your robe for you to slip on.

You almost refused it. He wasn’t meant to be here, he hadn’t told you he was coming and you took precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get inside your home. Apparently, no amount of security could keep him away from you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him the right to treat you to such a simple gesture. Not when he looked at you the way he did. You could see it in your minds eye, the puppy dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip. He was sulking and his posture screamed it. Sighing, you turned around to insert your arms one at a time. The fabric was warm, a plush cotton hug that you didn’t expect but were glad to have.

Before you could turn around Ghost used a soft touch on your shoulder to make you stand still while he searched the drawer on his left for your hairbrush. The wet strands were plastered to the back of your neck beneath your robe, his leather finger separating it to lay it over the fabric and smooth it out just a bit before starting out at the very ends, working his way up slowly.

He was quiet, it was rare that he go so long without speaking. Almost seeming like he was waiting for you to speak first, but no words would come. What was there to say?

Once he finished with your hair he hopped down from the sink countertop, guiding you to sit atop the toilet lid. He kept a hand on you the whole time he set up your hair dryer and sprayed your leave in conditioner, like he was worried you’d vanish if you weren’t beneath his fingers.

The continuous droning flow of air from the hairdryer was warm and soothing. Like a cozy white noise machine. You could’ve fallen asleep with the way he was brushing through your hair as he dried it, the bristles massaging your scalp with every pass. He was taking his time, an occasional pause to separate and section off the next bit of your hair, a quick swipe of his thumb against your neck, leaning down to simulate a kiss to the top of your head with his mask’s cheek.

He didn’t poke and prod you for answers like you expected. He was patient, seemingly content to be in your presence even without the use of conversation. It was surprising when you factored in all the incessant texts and voicemails he’d left you since you arrived back home.

Taking both your hands he escorted you over to the sink, gripping your hips to boost you up onto the counter top.

“Open.” He tapped your cheek, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, scoffing like he was offended when you tried to take it from him.

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, shaking his head at you before carefully cupping your chin and pulling your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb so he could brush your teeth for you.

“Ready?” He asked, rinsing off your toothbrush and passing off the mouthwash to you. Ghost watched as you swished and spit, helping you down from the sink and walking behind you with a hand on the back of your neck.

He picked out your pajamas and helped you into them, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. It was unsettling to see him so gentle and caring. This wasn’t his normal behavior. He had his sweet moments but characteristically he was moody, broody, grumpy and cynical.

“Do you think you can talk to me now sweet girl?” He asked, holding your face in his hands and swiping his thrumbs just beneath your eyes.

“You lied to me.” You said accusingly.

“No? What?” He asked, shaking his head like he was shocked you’d say that.

“You lied. You said you’d never hurt me, you’d never put me in danger.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be so violent. I didn’t know they were that bad of people, I would’ve never-“ His voice was strained, his hands shifting so that one was on your neck, rubbing the column of your throat.

“Not that.” You scowled, “I’m talking about the gun.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I told you I had one, I told you it was in the bag! I even told you to use it if you had to. Where’s the lie?” He asked, getting upset at your accusations.

“It was loaded for real? Like you for real were playing Russian Roulette with my life? You could’ve killed me Ghost!” You smacked his chest angrily, shoving him away when he held out his arm to comfort you.

“No! No it wasn’t loaded I swear.” He said in a panic, standing up and going over to your still-packed bags from your weekend trip. He dug around in the pockets until he pulled out the bullet he’d carved your initials into. You noticed the last initial had been carved over in the shape of a heart.

“See? It never even touched the inside I swear.” He said, handing it to you. He’d saved it for you, tucking it away for you to see when you finally unpacked. You almost felt bad that you’d practically forced him to ruin the gift of the keepsake. An odd keepsake, but still.

“Then… then how do you explain the bullet in there? I never saw you load it.” You asked, confusion coloring your words.

Ghost sighed, trying to take your hand but you pulled it away. He grumbled, forcibly pulling it over by the wrist, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I haven’t and will never knowingly put you in harms way. You are my everything, without you I am nothing.” Ghost leaned in, testing the waters to see if you’d calmed enough for him to put his arms around you.

“I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something I’d done.” You let him wrap you up into his warmth, his large hand cradling your head to his chest. “My purpose in life is to love you, keep you safe and happy. You becoming mortally wounded isn’t included in that list, not even in the fine print. Quite the opposite actually.”

“I swear on my life that it wasn’t ever loaded, you weren’t in any danger.” He whispered, “I loaded it before we went out, just in case. I like to be prepared and I’m so glad I was.” His other hand no stroking your hair. “It was fully loaded, you don’t remember seeing me load in another bullet for Zach did you?”

“No.” You winced at the memory, the sound of the car reving and splashing into the lake replaying in your mind.

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hands fidgeting. “My little doe, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You should’ve said something instead of letting it fester up like this.”

“Ghost, this has been… I don’t know. It’s been overwhelming okay? I can’t think.” Rubbing your face and running a hand through your hair. “I ki- I hurt someone.” You choked out.

“You did so well.” He said softly “I’m very proud of you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t out there with you so you didn’t have to face it alone. I know it was scary.”

“Scary?” You scowled, “it was terrifying!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I- I was worried! You said you’d be quick and it felt like it was taking too long… the yellin’ and noise.” Your voice was shaking and you didn’t even notice it, still speaking passionately. “I was afraid you were hurt! I’m sorry I didn’t stay put like you wanted but I couldn’t just sit there and not know if it was you that I was hearing!”

”There was a whole group of them and your went in there all by yourself like an idiot!” You yelled at him in a way you hadn’t done before. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration, it was fear.

The concept of you being worried for him was foreign to him, he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to have you feel so strongly for him as Ghost. He knew it was definitely not the right time to push you down and let your sweet pussy milk his cock dry. But damn it all, if he wasn’t at least able to kiss you right now he may spontaneously combust.

“You were worried about me?” He asked so quietly his words dropped in and out of the vocoder. Ghost’s hands coming up to your neck, his thumbs under your chin to tilt your head up.

”God, you’re so stupid.” It came out much less angry than intended, more of whisper that trailed off into nothing more than a shallow breath.

There he was again, pouring out emotion without ever showing you his face. His eyes on you were comforting, like an embrace from the first sunny day in spring. The balance between you had always been a fragile thing, but it seemed that just like those sunny spring days encourage growth, something had begun to sprout roots.

There’s always been something so fascinating about flowers, one day they’re nothing more that a seedling, then in a blink of an eye they’ve bloomed and you missed it. The shock of waking up to discover the most beautiful rose carved from nature’s velvet had finally adorned the thorny landscape it had to endure on its path to life.

You’d failed to see something budding up and unfurling, now the bloom was staring into your soul, asking to be picked.

”Hey, I was jus-“ Ghost started, feeling a bit miffed by your words an the quick, almost eerie change in atmosphere.

”I was afraid.” A statement that could fit many situations you’d found yourself in with him, but it was being put to use in a different context now. “I was worried you’d be hurt so bad I couldn’t fix it.”

”Whoa.” Ghost shifted, bringing you closer, “Don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Just bruised up a little.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, the cold, hard plastic used to be somewhat of an uncomfortable feeling on your skin, though now it was one you realized you’d miss if it were taken from you.

“You should see the other guy.” The grin beneath his mask was so wide it could be felt in the way he tilted his head against your neck.

For the first time in days, you laughed. Tiny fairy bells making music that Ghost felt privileged to hear again, he felt honored to be the one to bring you the first bit of happiness, reprieve, after such a horrifying experience for you.

You pulled back, smiling and eyes shining with tears that you’d have no need to shed. Ghost watched, seeing the wheels turning behind your pretty eyes.

“Ghost, I lo-“ Just as you parted your lips to speak, sweet words on the tip of your tongue, the moment was shattered by flashing red on your bedroom TV screen. “Oh my god, they found it.”

Formerly blush pink cheeks quickly drained of color as the news camera panned over a serene lake, the still waters now rippling with movement as the image zoomed in on a car being towed from the depths, the reveal showed something hanging from the drivers side door was followed by a startled yelp of shock from the in-field reporter on the scene. The video paused, the image blurred as the in-office news anchors scrambled to collect themselves. The male cohost held a finger up to his ear, receiving information live from the scene.

”Apologies to our viewers, it seems that Rebecca, along with other press on site have been asked to return behind press lines. Investigators have a sensitive development in the case and are requesting all live newsfeed footage to be halted effective immediately.” The man nervously looked over to his female counterpart, sharing a nod she announced that they’d update as soon as officials allowed it, directing the camera to join the weatherman for the latest forecast.

”Alright, no. You’re not watching this.” GHost stood up, snatching the remote from the bed beside you and shutting the tv off. Going so far as to pop out the batteries and put them in his pocket.

”Ghost, this is what I’ve been waiting to see, you can’t just-“

”Oh yes i can.” He growled, holding up a hand to stop you. “I’ll monitor the news. Give me your phone.” He stuck his hand out in a ‘give it here’ motion as you reluctantly passed it over to him.

”What are you gonna do? Hold my phone hostage?”

“No, I’m going to seize your internet capabilities.” He snorted, pocketing your phone, gingerly pushing your head back and away like an annoyed father who’s had enough of his kid tugging on his shirt sleeve.

”What? What if i need-“

”To google when the Byzantine Empire collapsed?” He crossed his arms and chuckled when you gasped. “I’ve been paying extra close attention to your search history. I’m so glad you filled your time away from me with educational Roman lore rather than researching the est way to die.”

You couldn’t refute his statement, it’s true. You weren’t depressed so much as you were just bored during your self imposed isolation. “I think it’s completely normal to want a few quiet days after the weekend i had.” You huffed.

”Yes, it would be different if your weekend had been a drunken rager,” He said, swatting your hand away from his waist when you decievingly attempted to wrap your arm around him as a front to steal your phone back. “It’s highly concerning and i think i had a right to be worried considering your weekend involved double homocide.”

”I guess that’s fair.” You conceded, knowing you probably had done a real number on him. Everyone else was worried and they had no idea about the reasoning behind your temporary hermit-hood.

“If you desperately need to know anything else regarding Ancient Rome during your no internet time, call me.” He said, crossing his arms.

”Anakin has a phone and a laptop. I bet he’d let me use those.” You countered, raising an eyebrow to see if he’d budge.

”Oh I’m sure he would.” Ghost nodded, leaning back on your dresser with his arms still crossed. “But you aren’t going to ask him are you?”

”So what if i do?” Your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. You didn’t like the tone he was taking with you, it was so accusatory.

”Well I wouldn’t do anything to stop you if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Go ask him if you’d like.” He gestured to the bedroom door flippantly, challenging you.

”No.” You glared, frustrated that he was winning a game you weren’t prepared to play.

“Why not?” He asked, is hand on his masks chin as if he were stroking a beard in thought. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you ignoring the poor boy since you got back would it?”

”N-no.” You snapped back at him.”Even if it was, it’s not y-“

“Tell me your love life is not my buisness one more time.” He grabbed you by the upper arm, turning you to face the door. “And I’ll march my happy as over there and introduce myself.”

”You would’ve done that already if you really wanted to.” You wriggled free from his grip, rubbing your arm.

”Let’s go then.” He said, pushing you toward your bedroom door and opening it with a dramatic flourish just to pick at you a little more.

“Anakin’s not even home, he’s at work.” You lied, at least you thought you were lying.

”You’re right.” Ghost nodded, “My bad, I’ll wait til our schedule lines up.”

”Think he can pencil in… lunch on Wednesday?” He continued, pretending to seriously look at the desk top calendar on your bedroom desk. He missed the way your lips down turned in a frown as he teased you.

”What do you mean I’m right?” You asked, turning him by his shoulder to face you once more.

”Huh?” He he questioned, not having heard your question because he was distracted by the Rubix cube he’d swiped off your desk.

”Stop that, pay attention.” You scowled, taking it from him and rolling you eyes when he clearly seemed annoyed. “You’re worse than a child.”

”No, I’m actually pretty good at solving them, here let me-“

”Oh my god can you please just back track for a second?” You huffed, watching him reach for it again, this time your facial expression stopped him before he got half way.

”Sorry.” He mumbled, pulling out your desk chair to sit in, manspreading and leaning back. “What’s so important?”

”What’d you mean I’m right?” You asked, gesturing to the door. “About Anakin not being home.”

”Well, he’s not home. You said so yourself.” He shrugged, reaching back out for the rubix cube. You left his hand empty, crossing your arms and walking away for a moment.

”Do you know where he is?” You asked, not turning around.

”Um no.” He laughed, standing up and appearaing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Why? You afraid he’s gonna come barging in or something? We could give ‘em a little show.”

”Stop it. I’m serious.” You snapped at him and it took him back for a moment. He slowly released you, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Sorry doll, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said in a hurt tone, wondering what exactly he’d said that had went too far. He’s said much worse things about himself to you and he’d never gotten a reaction like that.

”You… you didn’t.” You sighed, turning around and glancing up at him for a moment before grumbling frustratedly. “I’ve just been thinking too much. I- I don’t know I’m just worried. I haven’t seen him, I don’t know if he’s home or… and I’ve been in my head… it’s been so much and-“

“Sweetheart.” His voice was low and warm as he addressed you, like a soothing balm.

“You know where I am.” He said softly, the weight of his words settled in your chest. You couldn’t put your finger on it, a strange tug pulled at your heart, telling you there was more to be said between those words.

Ghost sighed, returning to his spot behind you, tentatively reaching for you, giving you time to push him away again if you wanted. When you showed no signs of objection he pressed his half-hard cock against your ass, making you lean forward slightly to give himself better access to push up against your clothed cunt. A low grunt escaping him as he felt the warmth between your thighs.

“Feel that?” He asked, breathing raggedly, his hands coming to rest on your stomach before slipping one up under your shirt to settle in the valley of your breasts. “It’s me baby.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His voice soft and sweet, an odd comparison to the obvious upset in his voice just moments before.

“I can fuck it all better.” His gloved hand leaving your stomach in favor of honing in on the bundle of nerves hidden in your panties.

How could he expect anything other than enthusiastic consent when he spoke to you in that tone? The textured leather of his middle finger circling your clit in a feather light touch. His cock twitching, the rumble of the groan trapped in his chest resonated through you as he held you close. This wasn’t the normal experience with Ghost, this didn’t feel like a thrill or the promise of something new.

This felt meaningful and it scared you.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, too afraid to speak your thoughts and feelings into existence. He let out a sigh of relief that you agreed, though internally he was preparing himself to hold back. He’d been so pent up, so needy and now he was here and you were vulnerable in a different way than ever before… he couldn’t in good conscience fuck you like a sex doll. Not even if he really, really wanted to. (He did.)

“Sit, get comfy.” He promoted you, tapping your ass with two fingers to prod you along so that he could turn off the lights and close your curtains. “Uh, I got rid of your pink silk thingy…” he said apologetically, hating that he had to use the rough, black cotton bandana on you again.

You didn’t answer, it was too difficult to separate your inner voice from your flow of spoken dialogue, having the two mixing right now would be disastrous. You just nodded, keeping your lip tucked away behind your teeth.

Ghost gingerly tied on the blindfold so he could remove his gloves and touch you with his bare hands, warm palms and rough fingertips dancing across your flesh as he removed the pajamas he put on you earlier. He was taking his sweet time to put you at ease, but it only served to make you feel… anxiety.

“Can’t see nothing, right doll?” He asked, smoothing his palm over your thigh, rubbing the blunt point of the mask’s nose through your folds, making you jump at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, chewing your cheeks while a wave of nerves washed across your abdomen, feeling him lift up slightly to removed his mask.

Soft lips met yours after feeling his bare chest move up your body, settling his muscular body over yours. His pierced tongue sliding across your lips, clacking your teeth on its descent into your mouth to caress and lick the sweetness inside. His boxers barely containing the warm length pressed firmly against your wet core.

Rough, careful hands brushed over your tender flesh in the most sensual manner possible. It was nearly unbearable, the tingling heat that formed in the pit of your stomach from just the simple act. Ghost rutting his hips against you to give you the friction you so badly desired, his cock twitching when you moaned against his lips.

He hummed lowly, nodding in understanding as he kissed and nipped his way between your thighs to nestle his tongue into your sopping entrance, licking and slurping up the slick mess gathered there. The bridge of his nose bumping against your clit, the pressure deliciously fleeting. Those strong hands of his massaging and kneading your breasts, moving down your sides to your hips, one staying there to hold you in place while the other slowly twisted two fingers into your cunt, pumping them deep before withdrawing almost completely, just to do it all over again.

“Ghost?” You panted, mewling pitifully. He couldn’t answer verbally, not when you were so close, he didn’t want to risk losing his rhythm, he didn’t want to risk you identifying his voice without the mask. So instead he reached up his unoccupied hand to cup your cheek and brush his fingers over your lips.

“S’good.” The soft, slurred praise dripping with something more.

He smiled, wide and smug as he wrapped his lips around your clit and flicked his tongue rapidly, coaxing those warm and fuzzy tendrils to wrap around you just a little tighter before snapping and bringing you the rush of ecstasy he knew you needed. It took an unreasonable amount of self control for him not to poke fun at you for cumming so quickly, having to stifle his snicker in the fat of your thigh.

After you’d released him from the iron grip of your legs, he lifted up, not bothering to wipe his face before he put his mask back on. Forcing your legs back apart despite the quiver in them, he tugged down his boxers and nudged the tip against your clit, sliding it through your folds until he notched it in the dip of your cunt.

“Don’t whine darlin’.” He chuckled, hearing you squeak from the sensitivity as he pushed inside slowly. “I know it’s been a couple days since you’ve had a proper fuckin’. I’ll take care of you.”

With a shaky inhale he plunged into your depths, bottoming out just to circle his hips, making sure you felt him in every corner of your tight cunt. He leaned down, resting his mask’s forehead on your collarbone, moaning loudly at the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around his throbbing length.

Ghost had never fucked you like this before. He’d never been gentle, yet here he was, treating you with the utmost care and only the most tender touches. His calloused thumb finding its way between your bodies to circle and roll your clit just enough to have you bucking up against him.

“Why’re you bein’ so sweet t’me?” You breathed out, eyebrows pinched together and upturned.

“I wanna give you what you need.” He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask into the side of your neck, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper, to angle his cock perfectly.

“Yeah?” You whimpered, arching your back, your breasts pushing up against him.

“Course I do, my little doe.” He cooed, sliding an arm under you to press you even closer to him. “Always.”

He had you so needy, so willing. Wet and panting, a mess of sweet sweat and slick. There wasn’t a thought in your brain other than him. His hands, his cock, his voice, his lips. Ghost was drawing inhuman noises from your kiss bitten lips, each and every breath bringing a new form of praise to his ears.

Ghost had you so fucked out, so blissful and beautifully undone that it crept up your throat and clawed its way out. You’d thought it, over and over and over again, the lines between your inner and outer voice were crossed and was something that could never be taken back.

“Ghost… love you.” Your soft lilt reaching his ears, his movements halting in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” He asked, his voice cracking under the weight of your confession.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ You started, grabbing his wrist to stop his shaking hand from removing your blindfold. “N-no don’t.”

“But-“ He stuttered, unsure how to handle the fiery mix of emotions that rammed through his chest. “I want you to… don’t you want to see?”

“I want to.” You admitted softly, though you shook your head. “But I don’t think I can.” You whispered, feeling the hurt and confusion that filled him up and spilled over.

“I… I don’t-“ He seemed at a loss for words, stuttering over the syllables until it was a jumble.

You heard rustling, felt his weight lifting from the bed and the creak of leather as he put his gloves back on. His socked feet shuffled across the floor so he could retrieve his boots and stomp his feet back inside, not bothering to lace them or even tuck the laces inside. He tossed your clothes at you, the fabric landing on your stomach with a dull *thwack*. You heard something clatter against your nightstand and before you even had time to form a coherent thought, he had slammed your bedroom door shut. Leaving you naked, alone and in the unforgiving darkness behind your blindfold.

September 8th, 9:54 pm

Anakin was overly tired and much too distracted to pay attention to what was going on around him. He wasn’t expecting anything other than the droning of his bedroom fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards in the apartment above his.

Perhaps it was complacency, maybe it was his overconfidence, or it may have been that he was simply distraught; he failed to do his after Ghost routine. Yes the mask was under his dresser. Sure, the backpack and his boots were hiding in the top of his closet just beneath the crocheted monstrosity his mother called a blanket. But his hoodie and jeans were crumpled in the floor, inside out, but it didn’t really matter, after all they were black like rest of his wardrobe.

Even worse? He’d left on his socks. His long black socks with lime green toes and heels.

“What the fuck do you want man? I’m busy.” A male voice grumbled.

“Can you be un-busy? I’m out.”

Anakin heard a sigh, then the low din of the bar in the background as his friend conferred with someone else.

‘April? Can you be me for like 30 minutes?’ Trevor asked. ‘C’mon, it’s Anakin… No, you can’t take it to him. I don’t care! You owe me for yesterday and you know it. You’re sure? Thank you babe, I’ll be back quick I promise.’

“I can be un-busy with time constraints.” Trevor said with a slight laugh. “What are you wanting? I’m walking to my car right now.”

“A quarter.” Anakin’s voice was scratchy, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “What… what else have you got these days, huh Trev?”

“Anakin you better not be telling people that I-“

“No, you idiot I’m asking for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything other than smoke?” Trevor asked, the slightest hint of concern seeping past the curiousness in his tone. Anakin no longer heard the constant background noise of the bar, instead it was the crunch of gravel and the loud slam of a car door.

“I don’t!” Anakin snapped, quickly correcting his harshness. “I- I don’t. I was just curious that’s all.”

“Whatever.” Trevor snorted, starting up his car. “Well I’ll just bring my whole bag in case you’re more than ‘curious’.”

“Alright, yeah that’s… okay.” Anakin nodded to himself and cracked his knuckles, holding his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “When you get here I’m on the right side of the building, I’ll be out on the fire escape.”

Anakin opened up the large window and left it open, the cool air flowing in and clearing his apartment of the nervous energy he’d let build up. He paced the floor, talking to himself under his breath while running both hands through his hair. It was a short drive from the bar to the apartment building, Trevor dusted off his hands and climbed the drop-down ladder until he reached the landing, walking up the stairs to where Anakin sat.

“Damn. You look like shit.” Trevor scoffed, holding out his hand to clasp his with Anakin’s, pulling him up to his feet.

“I know.” Anakin grumbled, climbing in his window and standing with his hands on his hips.

“Huh,” Trevor looked around the living space, a tiny smirk in the corner of his lips. “Didn’t take you for a girly girl.” He snorted, picking up a large Kuromi Squishmallow.

“Fuck off.” Anakin snatched it back and held it in his crossed arms against his chest. “It’s a pillow.”

“Oh, sure.“ Trevor snorted, a big grin on his face while he unzipped and searched through his bag to pull out the correct ziploc bag with the quarter of weed Anakin asked for. “S’okay. I won’t tell.”

”I believe i deserve a discount for possible emotional scarring in the event I come to work tomorrow and your little girlfriend starts laughing at me.” Anakin snatched the baggie from him and laughed.

”I’ll let you have it for free if you let me take your picture with it.” Trevor grinned, pulling out his phone.

”Throw in some K and we’ll call it a deal.” Anakin said with a smirk.

”Done!” Trevor snapped the picture and cackled to himself, tossing his phone in is bag and doling out two pills, dropping them in the ziploc bag of weed Anakin opened.

”Get out before I kick you out.” Anakin snorted, shoving Trevor toward the window, watching him leave before he turned around and hurried to his bedroom. Grabbing his large glass bong from his dresser along with his cigarettes and a lighter, he returned to the fire escape to grind and pack a full bowl of pot. Packing it in with the butt of his lighter before lighting it and taking a long rip. Holding his breath for a moment, letting out a cloud of smoke as he leaned back on the rusted metal steps.

Rolling one of the pills between his forefinger and thumb. Anakin stopped for a moment crossing his feet at the ankles and looking up to the nighttime sky, light pollution in the city was alm,ost always too great to make out many of the dimmer stars. Though after the last few days it seemed luck had finally turned around, even if it was only just the clear sky, it was better than nothing. Hit after hit, Anakin let himnself melt into the warm fuzzy feeling while searching for constellations.

——————————————————————————

You tried to relax, to think rationally. It would do no good for anyone if you went looking for trouble. Life was already complicated enough, it was bubbling up day after day and you didn’t want to be the one who let it boil over. Your little devil was back and it’s whispers were louder than before. Rightfully, you felt you deserved the truth. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, you’d already ruined everything by not keeping your mouth shut.

Ghost did it all the time.

You moved quickly before your confidence ran out, finding him on the fire escape after using the key he’d entrusted you with long ago when you’d given him a key to your apartment. You were startled to see him, Ghost had said he was out and you hadn’t planned on him being home. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, a bit of snooping to put your mind at ease. The space reeked of weed even though he’d closed the window, or at least partially closed it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy relighting the bowl on taking another long rip. It was almost unfair how easily he distracted you. He always looked so pretty in everything he did. The way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he tilted his head back to blow out the smoke, his eyebrows pinching together with the deep inhale from the bong, his hands flexing as he struck the lighter and brought it to life.

He seemed… preoccupied enough. Sneaking around couldn’t be that difficult, could it? He’d never know if you did it quickly enough, you were already here, you may as well try it.

Staying closer to the wall you went to his kitchenette, you’d learned one of the best ways to tell if a man has been cheating is to check the fridge, trash and sink. If there’d been another woman in here, you’d most likely find evidence there and not have to venture any farther. Surprisingly, it seemed Anakin’s normally well kept space was seeing less attention than usual. You’d never seen more than a cup or two in his sink at once, now one whole side of the sink was stacked with dishes. You picked up the glasses, looking at the rims for any sign of lipgloss or lipstick, but found none.

You kept glancing over at the window, making sure Anakin wasn’t gathering his stuff to come back inside. There were no ‘girly’ drinks in his fridge, other than the ones you’d left there and none of them were missing. The wine bottle you’d gotten a week ago was still there, unopened. The trash showed no signs of anything suspicious, not even the dust from the vacuum held a clue to any wrongdoings.

It wasn’t enough. You knew in your gut that there was something going on, regardless of another woman being involved or not. The thought of Anakin cheating had given you plenty of time to reflect on things you would’ve otherwise not given a second glance to.

Another look toward the window proved that Anakin was still busy, engrossed in his own world. Swallowing your guilt with a thick gulp, you made a quick dash across the line of sight from the window. Once you safely reached the samll hallway, you stood between the two doors on either side of you. The courage you’d gathered up to sneak in was wearing out and fast, the bathroom would be the quickest, the bedroom would possibly hold more than you could bare to digest at the moment.

Taking a deep breath you opened the bathroom door and closed the door, standing in the dark for a moment before flipping on the light. After your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you got to work, nothing in the trash. No changes in the shower products, the cabinet hidden behind the mirror had been rerarranged but it seemed like it was only done to clean the shelves. The cabinet below the sink held it’s usual cleaning products, extra shower stuff and towels. Nothing seemed out of place and you were beginning to feel even more guilty than you were origionally. Closing the cabinets you moved on the two drawers along the side closest to the door. The top one opened up just fine, nothing but jewlery for his piercings and his cologne, along with other random bits and bobs.

Pulling out the bottom drawer you found that it stopped halfway, getting jammed by something and preventing you from pulling it all the way out. You wiggled it and shuffled through the items inside the drawer, feeling around to see if you could dislodge whatever it was that prevented it from being opened. You reached the back of the drawer, nothing inside seemed to be the cause, so you decided to reach a bit farther and feel along the back of the drawer and the walls. Thinking that maybe something had fallen from the top drawer and gotten jammed in the tracks for the bottom drawer.

Then, there was a noise. The window. Quietly shutting the drawer you listened, hearing Anakin muttering to himself and his footsteps stopping, the clunk of his bong hitting the coffee table and the sound of him plopping down on the couch. You had no choice but to pretend like you meant to be here, you were here to see him.

While you were busy preparing your ‘i missed you, I’m sorry’ speech, Anakin turned on his tv and Xbox, waiting for it to boot up and load Fallout. He wasn’t ready for bed, he wasn’t willing to be completely alone with his thoughts, so a distraction was in order. He jumped up from the couch and slunk into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and returning to the couch. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he used the beer bottle to crush up one of his pills, sliding his wallet over to him he pulled out his debit card and chopped it finely, lining it up on the edge of the table. He cracked open the beer bottle and took a swig, holding it in his mouth while leaning down to snort half the line. Swallowing the beer to help with the bitterness of the powdered pill, getting ready to start the process over again.

You slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out into the short hallway to see Anakin kneeled beside the couch, his head tilted back sniffing and wiping his nose like it itched. He swallowed, letting out a sigh and a hiccuped laugh, bring the bottle to his lips for another drink.

”Anakin?” You gasped. His head snapped over to the side, bloodshot eyes wide and confused as he stared at you, choking on his beer, coughing and spitting it out accidentally. He stood up slowly, keeping his balance by laying a hand on the couch’s armrest.

“H-hey sweetheart.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, eyes darting around from the embrassment of being caught. Caught doing something you didn’t ever expect to see. “I missed you baby, ‘mere.” His words slightly slurred and his actions not quite right as he beckoned you over.

”I-i had a whole apology speech planned out… i didn’t-“ You stuttered, looking him up and down, “You- are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.” He casually waved your concerns away as if it were silly of you to ask such a thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t reall thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? You’re here now and you’re all i need.”

”No, you can’t just brush this off Anakin.” You said, walking over to him and looking down on the coffee table and what was left of the white powdery substance. “What is that?”

”Baby,” Anakin sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry okay? I just needed something to… to take my mind off stuff.”

”What stuff?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation at his vagueness. “Us stuff?”

”Well, yeah.” He nodded, his jaw set in a hard line while he shifted on his feet. “Where’ve you been? You disappeared on me.” He whispered, reaching out to take your hands in his, though you swiftly shut down his attempt.

”Where have you been?” You turned the attention back where it belonged, on him.

”Home.” He said, gesturing to his living space. “Called Trevor.” He motioned to the coffee table and the various paraphernalia. He tried reaching out for you again and was rejected once more.

”What did i do?” He asked, his face scrunched up in pain from your reluctance to touch him.

”I don’t know. You tell me.” You crossed your arms and stared him down.

”Please, baby just talk to me.” He whined, gently grabbing your shoulders and making you sit down. “You left for your trip and you were fine, you come home and you treat me like I’ve got the plague.”

“What is that stuff?” You pointed to the table angrily.

”Ketamine. Your turn, tell me what’s going on.”

”oh my god, no you can’t just expect me to let that go so easily Anakin!” You huffed spotting the other pill in the ziploc bag. “More? Really?”

”Don’t judge me, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this kinda thing.” He said angrily, pulling it from your hands and fishing out the pill. “Look, I’ll get rid of it.”

He grumbled, standing up and dragging you by the arm along with him toward the bathroom where he held the pill in front of your face, dramatically lowering it down over the toilet and dropping it in.

“There, flush it.” He crossed his arms, nodding toward the plunger. You rolled your eyes and pushed down on it, watching the little white pill disappear. “See? No big deal, it’s not like I’m some kind of pill head.”

“Now. Your turn.” Anakin walked on jelly legs back into the living room, sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, manspreading in his boxers and tshirt.

“I’m… I don’t know I guess I’m mad at you.” ‘I’m mad at myself.’ You sighed, kicking off your shoes and sitting beside him.

“Me? What did I do?” He made a face, pulling up his bottom lip and licking one of the hoops in his snake bites.

“Did you go to a sex shop?” You asked flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“While you were gone? No.” He snorted, wincing when you smacked his shoulder. “Ow! Fuck.” He groaned, running his hand over it to roughly massage it.

“Crybaby.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Jesus someone shit in your cheerios didn’t they?” He grumbled, rolling his arm in a wide circle with his arm bent at the elbow.

“I meant like in the time we’ve been together. Have you been to a sex shop? Lauren’s husband swears he saw you at one.” You accused, watching him closely for any telling body language.

“Yeah I did.” He nodded, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Am I not allowed to buy stuff for our sweet love makin’?”

“What’d you buy? I haven’t seen anything new.” You asked, ignoring his ill-placed tease.

“Some lube, jewelry for my dick piercing. S’got a little vibrate-y thingy.” He gestured to his crotch.

“That’s it?” You asked, still uncertain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was a surprise! Gods what’s your deal baby?” He asked, getting up, steadying himself with a hand on your head before he walked off to his bedroom. You tracked his movements without following. Glancing down at the floor you did a double take.

“See look? Here.” He came back, holding up the two items and shaking them. The jewelry hadn’t even been taken out of the package yet.

“Did you get new socks?” You asked, looking from his feet to his face and back again.

“What are you the fucking FBI now?” He scoffed, obviously getting agitated at your insistence on questioning him. “Yeah they’re new. Would you like to see my receipt officer?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” You scowled.

“You don’t like my- oh, you know what?” Anakin stomped back over to you and grabbed you roughly by the jaw. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated by a bitch half my size.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You gasped, pushing his hand away. He’d never acted like that with you before, it was startling, confusing… could one pill have really made that big of a personality change so quickly?

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bit of a dick don’t you think?” He asked, staring you down as he pointed at your chest, poking you aggressively as he toward over where you sat on the couch. “You planned a trip without me, didn’t tell me until you were getting ready to leave. You’re gone all weekend, you’ve been back a few days and haven’t even spoken to me and then you show up to my place and start questioning me like I’ve done something wrong!”

“What about you huh?” Anakin yelled, getting upset in a way you’d never seen him do before. “I think I should be the one asking you questions!”

“Ani! Ani calm down it’s okay!” Frantically you tried to calm him down, standing up and putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry Anakin I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately and that’s no fault of yours.”

“Damn right it’s not.” He muttered. Walking the room in a quick back and forth line.

He breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he dropped both hands down to his sides and sat down on the couch. Leaning over with his head between his knees as if he felt nauseous.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin sighed, clearing his throat, clasping his hands together behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. “I’m really sorry princess. That was uncalled for.”

“Anakin, let’s just take a second okay?” You said quietly, making your way to the fridge to grab yourself a water. By the time you unscrewed the cap, Anakin had already chugged the rest of his beer.

“Can we… how about we just forget it? Let’s just pretend I got home today.” You suggested, a hopeful look on your face, your plan having been so horribly thrown askew that you knew there was no salvaging it.

“We can start over.” You suggested quietly. es, you were terribly upset with him but it was **so hard to stay that way. Especially when he had every right to be angry right back at you. “I’m sorry too. Please? Let me make it right…”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It should be me.” Anakin whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

“You gotta know that I love you princess. I love you so, so, so much.” He led you back to the couch, holding your hand and pulling you into his lap. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, never. I know that you’re disappointed in me…”

He looked up at you with glacier blue eyes, ones that had started to melt. Salty tears filling up to the brim and ready to flow over in a hot trail down his cheeks. He was holding his breath like he was scared to breathe, like he was afraid that if he did, he’d be pushed over the edge.

“I made a really bad choice and I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice small and fragile. “It was wrong of me. I know that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You frowned, carding your fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, it was just this once right? Only the one pill?”

“That’s not…” Anakin sniffled, hiccuping before he tilted his head back on the couch cushions,covering his face with his hands. He let out a few half-sobs, stopping himself by forcing them down and holding his breath. “I don’t, I didn’t mean to do it okay?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He spoke through short, shallow inhales, his head jerking with each labored breath. “It’s bad. I’m bad.”

“Anakin no, no you’re not bad! Why would you say that?” You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But it- I never should’ve… I shouldn’t have done it.” Anakin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He started to bounce the knee you weren’t sitting on, pressing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes and using his other fist to rhythmically pound on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I never will. You’re too good. You’re so good.”

His voice was squeaky, chopped up and uneven. The large, strong hands you’d come to love settled on your hips and waist, squeezing slowly, rubbing up and down as if he were trying to comfort you.

“C’mere.” He hiccuped, keeping his eyes closed as he wiped his cheek on his shoulder, pulling you flush to his chest. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better. I swear.” He whispered, his words hot and breathy against your skin as he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Anakin I’m not… I’m not leaving you over something so, well I don’t want to call it insignificant. Because it’s not, it’s serious.” You said calmly, your own tears threatening to break through. It was so difficult to see him so upset, it was clear he felt immense guilt for this. “But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’ll be just fine.”

“You won’t go?” He sniffled, squeezing you tighter. “You promise?”

“Course I promise.” You nodded, the guilt of your previous thoughts, your original plan for coming here, all the things you’ve done… it all came rushing to the forefront.

“Why don’t you take a shower, it’ll help you feel better.” You suggested, really only wanting a few minutes of peace to sulk alone. “Just shout if you need help.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my ass.” He snorted, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking in a stuttered breath.

“I don’t know Ani, you’re really wobbly.” You said sympathetically.

“You can shower with me as much as you want, but you will not be showering me.” He glared at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Sponge baths are the only exception.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was always able to lift the weight of heavy emotion off of any situation, with just a few words.

Anakin just smiled and ruffled up your hair before trudging off to the bathroom. You’d never seen him switch up emotions that quickly and so fiercely. His guilt ridden sadness was so intense you feared he may have went into a full fledged panic attack if you hadn’t have been able to de-escalate it fast enough. Then, not too long before that was his flip of the switch anger and aggression.

The moment the bathroom door shut you cleaned up the coffee table, wiping it down to make sure none of the pill powder was left behind. You moved to put away his bong but thought… maybe you deserved a hit after all the trouble you’ve had. So you had one, only one. Someone here needed to be sober and Anakin was obviously not the man for the job.

————————————————————————

“So what do you do there? When that happens?” You asked, pointing to the tv screen while Anakin was playing Fallout 76.

“What? Get rad poisoning?” He asked, sitting comfortably with his feet propped up while you laid your head in his lap. “I can find a doctor, eat some fungus.” He snorted. “But I’d have to find them first so I just use RadAway. This little thingy right there.”

He pointed, showing you what he was talking about, explaining it and the different functions of the Pip-Boy his character uses to track radiation, inventory and the like.

“Okay but you’re wearing a radiation suit right?” You asked confusedly. “So why do you still get poisoned?”

“Baby, it’s just like real life. The suits only withstand so much, plus mines already damaged so it’s not as effective.” He chuckled, looking down at you to play with your hair for a moment while he waited for the next room to load after picking a lock.

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.” You giggled at yourself, enjoying the way he gave you attention even when he was preoccupied.

“So what’s the quest?” You asked, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Uh gotta figure out what happened to this lady and her Order.” He said nonchalantly, “there’s supposed to be some kind of jewelry along the way some where. The Eye of Ra I think?”

“What’s that do?” You asked.

“That’s a great question. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.” Anakin hummed under his breath, practically trashing the room he was in while searching around.

“Y’know, this game is kinda cute.” You grinned, obviously trying to tease him.

“It’s not cute. It’s apocalyptic, how is that cute?” He laughed, looking down at you and tugging your hair playfully.

“It’s all the retro stuff! It’s cute.” You shrugged, pointing to a few different random items on the screen. “I like the music too.”

“I know you do.” He laughed, glancing down again before refocusing on his tasks.

You stayed quiet for a while, just listening to him self-commentate and curse under his breath, it was nice. Normal. The most normal interaction you’d had since before your trip to the cabin. Even after the argument… disagreement? You’d just had, Anakin still made you feel safe and secure, loved and cared for. Even when he was in his own little world, focused on something else, he was still doting on you with soft touches and quick glances of adoration. He was so easy to forgive, he made things easy to forget.

He made it easy to be at ease.

Curled up next to him with a comfy blanket tucked around you, his thigh for a pillow. The warm cedar scent of his soap and the soft scent of his laundry. It was all a big, cozy bundle of security.

While he waited on another load screen, you began drifting to sleep with his hand in your hair and his soft whispers of sweetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a blissful and serene peace lighting up your face; only to turn pale and ashen as your body jolted awake at a familiar tune.

You’d finally placed that song. You’d heard it here, right here.

Part Seventeen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @ashisabitgay @purriteen

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[yandere-wishes]

A thought for you, Diluc meeting his darling when they were knights together when they were younger but when his dad dies and he leaves but only comes back to see his darling is now a high ranking offical and he panics, what if she gets hurt? She isn’t cut out for this sort of thing. So now he is torn, he can’t let her get hurt but it’s not like he can just pull her out of the knights, can he?

He plays hero in the dark.

Maybe cause the dark obscures beauty and beauty is the last thing he needs right now.

Maybe he's a bit too scared to see too clearly.

Besides everything looks better in the dark.

Diluc doesn't thrive in order, he prefers solitude. The quiet of the estate away from town. The calm of the tavern during closing hours.

The solitude is safe.

Away from fickle lovers and family secrets.

He sees you in the dead of day. Standing outside the tavern with your brigade. Dressed in that loathsome armor with the sun's rays bouncing off the silver metal.

Gleaming.

Bright.

A beacon of hope in every way.

Diluc swallows his anger, his astound. There really shouldn't be room for surprise, it was to be expected. You had trained with him, fought alongside him. Captain is the lowest rank you should have by now

Still, you are not ready for such duty, such burdens.

You must taste experience, bite it, and let the crumbs mar the corners of your lips. You can not simply know by hearing tales of others' endeavors. They are as pointlessly purposeful as the stars. Distant lights you can never understand.

And Diluc refuses to see you as anything more than the little girl who'd drag him to the lake to hunt turtles.

Jejune in every way.

Diluc is not careless, he is not reckless.

The young boy who used to rush headfirst into everything be it battles or turtle hunts, died the same night his father did. The man born of his ashes, is scrupulous, vigilant. He calculates every mistake before attacking.

He lets you see him in the dark. Masked vigilante stalking the streets while you do your patrols. He leads you through the streets, weaving through the nooks and crannies of the cramped port city.

He wonders if this is how the turtles by the lake felt all so many years ago.

"Halt" You're voice holds authority now, no longer airy and melodic. It makes him discomfited.

He leaps past the high walls of the city, disappearing amongst the threes. He sees you cease at the threshold of the bridge. Defeat painted across your tender lips.

The game has ended.

At least for tonight.

He plays hero in the dark.

Dancing as he blocks your attacks.

Metal sings metal as sword and claymore clash.

The nostalgia seeps through no matter how hard he struggles, the familiar hyms of weapons clashing. Your taut frown of concentration. He's drowning in his crush again.

But is such a fickle thing really capable of throttling a man such as he?

Maybe this is truly love?

It's a sparse moment. He's too caught up in you, how tall you've gotten, how astute your stance has become. You've grown. But he still hears your sweet voice ringing across the north winds.

He doesn't notice the hilt of your sword until it's pounded against his skull. Since when have you learned such dirty tricks? His head buzzes on impact, the mask clashing violently on the ground.

The night is still.

But the beating of his heart is far too loud.

"Dily?

You're sword falls, face torn between shock and laughter. "You're the Darknight hero?"

He doesn't answer right away. He lets you laugh and ponder. Lets you come up with your own answers. He's about to interject. Throw some comment about being on opposite sides. But you beat him to the punchline. "Well, I guess I still got to take you in..."

"That's unfortunate, I can't say I'm particularly fond of being arrested by a Favonius knight."

"Captain" You correct and the pride flashing across your face makes him burn in anger. No, no you're not.

You approach him, carless and intrepid. Plucky steps as you reach for the cuffs on your belt. Diluc can't help but roll his eyes. Really? Has being made a captain taught you nothing?

Shouldn't you be more jaded? Wry of any potential threats.

Well, he guesses it must be hard to think of the boy who talks to his pet turtle as a threat.

The blaze from his vision washes over you, painting the night into a faux dawn. The fire melts through your body, peeling the flesh of your arm.

The Darknight hero stands tall amidst the inferno. Eyes aflame with the delicate sight of you.

Diluc licks the embers from his fingers as you cradle your burnt hand.

He didn't mean to do this, but he needs to stun you, he needs you to submit. Gingerly he picks you up, cradling your body close. He can't wait to get you home and burn away that dreaded armor. To dress you in soft silks and precious jewels.

"You're really not cut out for this knight thing. But it's fine I'll keep you safe"

He's only met with soft whimpers as he scales the back walls and dashes towards the winery.

Diluc plays hero in the dark.

And he still believes that.

Even as he opens the door to his mansion.

With you sobbing from pain in his arms.

He is a hero.

And heroes are meant to keep people safe.

Especially helpless little girls who try to play knight.

[helluvapoison]

Crystal Clear

Zestial x Reader

warning: lil violence, probably inaccurate old english

Consider yourself lucky to find yourself under Zestial’s good graces and watchful eyes. While he sends you bottles of delicious, ancient wine and carnivorous flowers, others are on the opposite end. That’s what Alastor tells you at least and he refuses to elaborate. While you’re curious to know what could be the opposite of flowers, you think your imagination might be an easier pill to swallow than the truth.

You’ve long since agreed to go on that promenade with the Overlord (which you’ve found out means a walk by a lake) but Zestial, according to the notes on the recent bouquet of grey roses, “hasn’t known a moment’s peace” for a month now. His cursive is flawless with accentuated strokes and curls that take up the entire card. You wanted to thank him for all the gifts but a call felt impersonal… and something told you he didn’t own a phone.

A letter would probably suffice except you weren’t sure where to send it. Alastor continued to be no help. At first it struck you as odd because you thought the two of them were friends but that’s on you, you should have known Alastor doesn’t have friends. So you set out to Zestial’s corner of The Pride Ring. It was old fashioned like Cannibal Town but not nearly as nice.

By that, you mean the people are just as shitty as they are everywhere else in Hell.

Not even two steps over the invisible threshold and you’re shoved into the side of a building, cool brick meeting your shoulder hard. You move to give the jerk a silent “fuck you” at the very least, raising your middle finger as she bolts away from you. Two steps the same, she’s dragged into an alley by a shadow.

“Pray tell,” A familiar voice, so smooth and close, drowns out the nearby screaming. Zestial himself steals your attention and your breath. You don’t even have time to wonder where he came from.

“Doth thyn own eyes deceive? A firefly has entered the web of a spider by thous own accord? Thy had not expected this turn of events. What brings thee to my web this hellish day?”

“Oh! I wanted to thank you for all the presents you sent.” You explain, patting your pockets for the envelope addressed to him.

Humming, his eyes roam across his name as he gingerly takes the pink paper. He doesn’t open it then, instead bringing into the abyss of his coat where it disappears from your sight.

“The pleasure belongs entirely to thyn own self,” Zestial says politely, his smile disappearing as he speaks, “Oh how outrageous thou must be, for thou has been generously patient. Apologies, firefly. Thyst swears this will not happen twice.”

You tilted your head, brows pulling together as you deciphered Zestial’s words. When it settles in you’re quick to hold up your hands. You’re so quick to fix things, you missed his pet name again.

“I—Oh! No, I’m not upset! I understand you’re busy.”

This pleases Zestial immensely, his smile returning and etching across his face once more.

“Thous kindness continues. Please, allow thy to return thee from whence thou came. Thyn would be remiss should something happen to thee.” He paused, voice dropping as he glared over his shoulder, “Twice.”

Zestial swiftly offers his arm to you when you try to see what he was looking at. A part of you did know he was sparing you a gruesome sight… the other part didn’t care as much as you should.

Falling into step with the Overlord, you’re suddenly aware of how much labor he’s putting into walking at your pace. It looks effortless enough. He practically glides as he walks anyhow. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Despite slightly delving into his frustrations (via cards) about how busy he was, he seemed in no rush to return to his territory to deal with whatever it may be.

“I looked up what promenade means, by the way,” You say eventually, though the silence between you both was comfortable enough, “I’d officially like to accept your invitation now. When work slows down for you, of course.”

Zestial chuckles, looking straight ahead, “Thyn has been working tirelessly to ensure uninterrupted time with thee. Much like this, only with a more suitable location for such a sweet soul as thou.”

“Tirelessly, huh? Don’t forget to take breaks,” You chastise playfully.

“In thys undead existence, thyn has come to be sure that there is no time for breaks. Change is constant and quick. Thyn is forced to adapt when thyn does not wish to or thy will be left a—how did one say? A relic.”

Now it was your turn to frown.

“Someone said that to you?”

His amusement remained alive as ever despite the terrible insult.

“Fret not. There shan’t be much for one to say any longer.”

You cross your arms and nod firmly.

“Howevermore, mayhaps there was truth in one’s words. It appears to thy, that the more thyst resists the ever growing changes of this modern day, the farther thyst casts thys own self into darkness.” Zestial sighs and trails off towards the end, “Tis a rather lonely existence.”

Slowly, you nod your head. It takes a minute to translate what he said and another to respond but Zestial is nothing if not patient.

“Change is constant,” You begrudgingly agree.

He hums in appreciation, “Precisely.”

“But it doesn’t have to be lonely if you don’t want it to be. You have Carmilla and—” You hesitate which caught his attention.

“And?”

“Well, I was going to say me. If you want, that is.”

Zestial chuckles. It’s a dark, raspy sound that makes your bones vibrate and sends a shiver throughout your body.

“Thy would be honored to call thoust a friend.. for the time being. Thy can only be content in the darkness for so long now that light has been seen. Thoust will inevitably succumb to a courtship, thyself assures thee.”

“You lost me a little bit,” You replied, dipping your hand from side to side in a so-so motion.

The green of his eyes shrink upwards in amusement yet again. Zestial straightens, looking around as if debating something he doesn’t feel inclined to share this time. You show him the same courtesy he showed you and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“As commerce for such a divine outing, and solidifying our enriching conversation, thoust will be repaid in kind. Just this once.” Zestial declares, holding up a single, slender finger from his coat, “You and I are much alike, dear firefly, we shall not be easily discouraged from our desires.”

He holds out his hand and waits for yours to join. It’s not a perfect fit, his fingers could wrap around yours two times over, but it feels nice. Zestisl is oddly warm with soft palms and an unfailingly gentle grip. Bowing, he kisses your knuckles like he did the first time,

“Until next time. Thy will count the seconds,” He says quietly.

You don’t realize there’s an audience until he sinks into the cracks on the ground and absconds from your view. If you’re honest, you didn’t catch quite a bit from the last few minutes. You’re still stuck in the web of time where Zestial said he desired you. At least you think that’s what he said. Funny, even when he says it in layman’s terms you’re still not sure what Zestial meant.

[rotthepoet]

More Bsf!theo

Pt 2 where he sneaks you into his common room too talk bcs your still friends but when you fall asleep on him and everyone questions it he's just very smug

Im a little bit obsessed with bsf!theo 🫣

Everyone knows to leave you and Theodore alone when you have common room gossip time. Theo is a sassy Italian man, and you are a sassy you, and together your side eyes could send a grown man to his grave<3

So lets say you’re not a Slytherin, not a problem. Theo’ll dress you up in his spare robes and pronounce you an honorary Slytherin for the night. And no one dares question him. The green robes help with the narcs(prefects) trying to do their jobs, but Theo will pay off anyone who tries getting in the way of the two of you hanging out.

If you are a Slytherin, no worries, but it’ll be harder to separate you two. Practically conjoined at the hip, in class together, in the dining hall, and its not even the littlest bit suspicious because you’re both in the same house! Duh! (Its really suspicious, rumors are spreading like wildfire)

Nevertheless, it’s really not uncommon to find you and Theo chatting on the couches in front of the fireplace, or even tucked away beside one of the stained glass mirrors looking into The Black Lake. You’ll sit there for hours on end running your mouths, playing chess, or even just sitting in comfortable silence as you both work on schoolwork. Theo’s friends may come by time to time, eyeing you suspiciously, glancing back and forth at your every micro-expression. Blaise and Lorenzo have a 10 galleon bet on whether or not you’re exclusive.

When the hangouts lead far into the night, when the fire burns until it’s nothing but embers, when the last prefect had been paid off to leave you alone, Theo feels adventurous. He gets handsy, his lips attached to your neck, warning you to keep still and quiet.

“Wouldn’t want us getting caught now, hm?”

He lets you squirm against his chest while he stuffs his hands into your robes, playing with you. He’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear, humming about how obedient and sweet you are. He’ll talk you through orgasm after orgasm until you’re shaking and begging him to stop in a quiet, broken voice. He’ll lick his fingers clean of your cum, tracing his warm and wet hands under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

He just wants to hold you. To feel you. Theo craves skin-to-skin contact. Helps him to ground himself, to focus on shoving down and stomaching the feelings fluttering in his heart. It always comes back up, and he often bites his tongue to stop the word-vomit from falling from his mouth. To stop himself from ruining everything. To stop himself from losing you. You’re just a friend. A friend he sleeps with. A friend he wishes would hold his face and tell him he’s loved. The feelings never stay buried for long, and Theo’s learned to accept that.

So, while he forces each confession of love down, he traces soft circles into your skin, humming a song he remembers his mother used to sing when he couldn’t sleep. He doesn’t move when you do slip into peaceful slumber, and he won’t move until you wake up again. It would be unfair to stir such a lovely thing.

Naturally, as all good things must come to an end in Theodore Nott’s life, his jaw clenches when Mattheo walks into the common room, quite loudly I must add. He walks with a stupid smirk on his face, sitting down on a chair opposite of Theo.

“Really? Nothing going on here?”

“Not a thing.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Don’t get me wrong, Theo and Mattheo are like pb&j. Best friends since the beginning. Theodore knows everything about Mattheo. And Mattheo thought he knew everything about Theo. He doesn’t like this secret-keeping.

“I would tell you if there was something, Matt.”

“Really? So you don’t care that I overheard someone saying he was going to ask them out?”

Theo looks down at you, still sleeping in his arms, stomach still wet with the mixture of your own arousal and Theo’s saliva. In that moment, you were completely Theo’s, and no one could take you away from him. Not now. And nothing else matters right now. Not when you look so happy. Not when you look so comfortable. Not when he knows no one can bother you while you sleep in his arms.

“Nah, doesn’t bother me.”

[littlelou22]

pretend | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. will the two of you get back together or stay apart?

warnings: angst, hurt, mean!joel, insecure!joel, eventual fluff, age gap (reader in undefined age but young, joel’s canon age), language, men being TRASH, violence, y/n used like twice, probs shitty writing, idk let me know if I miss any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 6.2k

author's note: my first post, let me know what you think :)

requests open!

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head. 

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson. 

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner. 

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room. 

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner. 

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage. 

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision. 

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch. 

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else. 

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.” 

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

The boys finding out about Y/n

luke hughes x actress reader

word count: 1.1 k

note: fr loving these two so much at the moment!

It was summer at the lake house, a time Luke usually loved. Not to say he wasn’t having fun with his brothers and friends on the lake everyday, he just desperately missed his girlfriend. Missed being able to call or text her at any time, with her being in Scotland filming a movie they were in different time zones, and he had yet to tell his brothers and friends about her yet so he couldn’t even bitch to anyone about it. In Luke's time he could only chat with her from lunch to dinner time, of course the time of day he was most busy with the people there.

Today was a more casual day with the boys staying in the backyard of the house. So finally Luke had time to text Y/n, sitting inside at the kitchen island, only him inside everyone else had made their way outside. So engrossed in the text conversation he was having, Luke didn’t notice his brother walking into the kitchen.

Jack walked into the kitchen looking for another beer, what he hadn’t thought he’d find was his little brother’s eyes glued to his phone, blushing, so obviously talking to a girl. And being an older sibling, an older brother at that, it was his job to tease Luke about girls. Quinn did to him, so he has to for Luke. Do unto others what others have done unto you. That's how the saying goes, right? 

“What’s got you so smiley?” the boy asked, in a sing-song voice. Causing Luke’s head to shoot up, not knowing Jack was even in the room. He decides to respond, casually so as to not cause suspicion, “Nobody.” he replies, turning his phone face down on the island.

“Sure didn’t look like nobody.” grabbing a beer from the fridge, Jack leans over the counter of the island opposite to Luke, continuing, “Lukey, you can tell me.” “It’s not that I can’t tell you, it’s that I don’t want to.” “That’s rude, why don’t you want to tell me?” “Cause you won’t believe me.” On Luke’s side that was probably the dumbest thing to say at that moment, just a prompt for Jack to continue asking until Luke caves and just tells him. But he never said he was good at thinking through his decisions, that’s how he ended up with Y/n in the first place. And to Jack, what the fuck does that mean, know he has to know. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing.” the younger brother says, quickly, getting up to grab a drink, as to look more casually and not like he was freaking out inside. “That’s fine, you don’t have to tell me.” Jack concluded, walking outside to the group, beer in hand. That set off a couple red flags in Luke’s head, Jack came to the conclusion of giving up far too fast by Jack standards. After pondering for a moment, the boy quickly turns to where he was sitting, no longer seeing his phone where he sat it nicely, face-down, on the counter. He then hears distantly from outside, “Lukey has a girlfriend!” This causes him to run outside in an instant.

“What’s your password Lukey.. Or do I not want to see it?” Jack’s comment caused the guys to laugh at Luke’s expense. “Jack give me my phone.” “Jack give him his phone.” Quinn buts in, still laughing at Luke's expense but having some mercy on him, but when Jack doesn’t acknowledge Quinn or Luke’s demand. Then of course the worst of the worst happens, a notification pops up on Luke’s phone. “Who is this from?” the boy holding the phone says, looking at the screen and seeing the contact name ‘y/n (heart x3)’ 

Luke didn’t even try to fight for his phone anymore, he guesses deep down he wanted something like this to happen. He wanted to at least tell his brothers this summer, but as summer continued he just couldn’t muster up the courage to tell them, and it coming out like this was jumping right into the deep end and maybe that was what he needed.

“...Y/n? You’re talking to a girl with the same name as Y/n L/n?” “This crush is becoming more of an obsession, hughesy.” Alex adds onto Jack's point. “It’s because it is her.” Luke finally confesses, walking over and snatching his phone from his brother.

“Yeah fucking right! No offence Lukey.. But not in your wildest dreams.” “Oh, Taylor reference.” “It is her, and I can prove it to you.” In his heart he knew he didn’t have to because she loved him, and he loved her. But god, Luke wanted to prove it to see the look on his brother’s and friends’ faces. “Okay go ahead.” And with that Luke sent Y/n a text saying, ‘Is it okay if we call for you to meet my brothers?’ Luke knew it would be a yes, Y/n had been asking when she would get to meet his brothers, it was always Luke who softly shot it down. And the answer is if fact clearly yes when he gets a facetime call, that he accepts right away. “Yes. I want to meet your brothers! Where are they?” “Hey we’re here too!” Cole yells, in reference to him, Alex, Trevor, and Dylan. 

Luke sets up his phone to lean on a cup, which was on the small table next to his chair. “Hi! I’m- wait have you intro- I just will. I’m Y/n!” The girl on the small phone says, waving enthusiastically. “Trust, we know.” Alex mumbles, himself and everyone else in shock.

“Holy shit.” “No fucking way” “You should come here and actually meet us.” 

“Is he paying you?” After Dylan said this, Luke put an end to this meeting. “Okay, I’m leaving because I only have this next half hour with her. I’ll be in my room.” All the boys watched as Luke walked back into the house. “I can’t believe that.”

“Sorry about them.” Luke mumbles, closing the door to his room. “Don’t be, I’ve been wanting to meet them.. What would you think of me coming there like, I think it was Trevor said..” “I would say, come at your own risk.” The girl chuckles, grabbing her planner and bringing it onto her lap. “I leave Scotland late tomorrow, then I fly to New York for a photoshoot, but that will only be for that day. I was planning on staying there just because I didn’t have plans but I can go see you instead.” “Are you sure, cause it’s going to be what just happened times ten.” “I’m sure, I want to actually meet your brothers where you can’t just walk me away from them when you get embarrassed. And to meet your parents.” “Okay. I’m excited to see you.” “I am too, I’ve missed you so much.” 

The couple continued to talk for the half an hour they had, before Y/n had to leave for the cast dinner. And when Luke returned to the group, it was never ending questions. 

[ratsonastick]

Aggressive Love

Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

Clarisse has never been very good at showing her affection to her crushes, so when one day she crosses the line she starts to realize she needs to confess to a couple of things.

Warnings: None, boring plot

A/N - TAKING CHARACTER X READER REQUESTS!!!

Not long after you arrive at camp you meet the Ares girl. Clarisse La Rue was not ashamed to make her name known, but the way she did it did not sit well with you. 

Luke was walking you around showing you the ropes and trying to find your special thing, when she walked by. 

“Seems like you got yourself a new girl” Clarisse spoke with her arms crossed, stepping in front of the two of you with her siblings by her side. 

“Be nice she’s new” Luke spoke up and the girl rolled her eyes. 

For someone big on first introductions, Clarisse was not cutting it for you. Her attitude made you scrunch up your face in annoyance and that did not go unnoticed by anyone. 

Clarisse simply looked you up and down before walking away “She is not someone you want to get in a fight with” Luke spoke pushing you along. 

As the week passed you found yourself getting along alright. The Hermes cabin fits you well, even though it technically isn’t your cabin. And everyone seemed to like you. 

Except for Clarisse. 

Multiple people asked her why she hated you, and truthfully she didn’t even know why. You never even talked to her, but that face you gave her said it all (or at least that is what she kept telling herself) 

You are quiet, often found walking around, practicing archery, or helping your friends. You were not disrupting people’s peace, or getting into fights and starting arguments, like her. 

She told herself that the reason she didn’t like you was because of how you two are the complete opposites, and that she had a feeling being together would only end badly. 

So to make herself feel even better, she started getting into small arguments with you, just to prove to others and herself that she was right. 

The first time she did it, it was at the lake. She saw you sitting there alone, no one else around, and took the opportunity to approach you. 

She had a scowl on her face as she stood in front of you, blocking your view. 

“Having fun?” She asked, which only made you raise your gaze and shrug your shoulders “Yeah I guess why?” 

She scoffed, quickly thinking of a lie “Luke has been looking for you all over, he needed your help and you let him down. I was right about you.” She mumbled the last part, shaking her head and looking off. 

Hearing this, you became worried, not wanting to upset Luke anymore you got up and ran to find him. 

When you did he looked at you with a confused look, and you only then found out it was all a lie. 

The next couple of days, Clarisse would follow you around, throw things at you, and start small brawls which you would never really even participate in. 

Then finally one day you had enough. 

She had followed you into the woods, calling you names and once again bringing up the fact your godly parent hadn’t claimed you. 

You finally stopped and looked at her “Why do you hate me?” You asked in a fed-up voice which caught her a bit off guard. 

In any other argument you always sounded sarcastic, or like you were having fun with it. But this time she noticed that you genuinely seemed upset. Maybe it’s because she crossed a line, bringing up your godly parents. 

“Answer me.” Your gentle voice got her attention once more and her mouth opened but quickly shut. 

“I have done nothing to you and yet you hate me every day.” Clarisse furrowed her brows looking down at the ground. 

A feeling of regret started in her stomach, and she watched as you walked off. 

For the next week, she thought to herself, what she should do, or if she should even do anything. 

Finally, she decided to go to Luke. 

When she sat next to him and asked for his help, he let out a soft laugh, leaning back with his arms crossed. But then he noticed how serious she was, she didn't have a scowl on her face, or any sign of annoyance, just a straight expression. 

“She hates me” 

“Do you blame her?” Luke spoke, picking at his food and shoveling it in his mouth. Clarisse only frowned and looked as though she was about to leave. “If you aren't going to help me then I'm just gonna leave.” 

“Sit down” he mumbled and she did. 

“Why do you only now want to become her friend?” Luke asked with curiosity, his curly hair falling into his eyes and he stirred his peas around on his plate. 

“I don't know,” Clarisse answered, her voice sounding softer than it usually does. “You like her don't you.” He spoke up as he turned his gaze to her. Clarisse seemed startled by what he was saying, maybe she did like her, and was just … afraid of what the others would say. 

Luke didn't need an answer to know he was right. 2 years ago something just like this happened with her and a girl in the Hermes cabin, except Clarisse never did anything and the girl continued to think that she hated her. 

“If I were you, I'd maybe start by apologizing to the girl and giving her something she likes,” Luke stated as he started to stand up from the table. “Like what?” Clarisse mumbled, her reaction time a bit slow, which was strange for the Ares girl. 

“She told me she likes flowers, maybe go pick some.” 

Clarisse hated flowers. 

“Okay” 

That night Clarisse got one of the Demeter kids to give her some flowers, and she marched over to your cabin. 

She knew that each clear night you always sat outside, so seeing you sitting on the steps to your cabin was no surprise. 

Except the boy next to you was. 

She faltered for a moment, feeling even dorkier than before, her arms dropped to her side, the flowers slouching slightly. 

But she kept going, “Scram” she shouted at the boy with a scowl on her face. The boy sighed stood up and mumbled “Night Y/n” 

Clarisse took a moment to stare at you, how the moonlight made you so beautiful. 

Then she locked in and stuck out the flowers for you. “Here” she spoke again with that same scowl on her face, you nervously reached up to grab the flowers and gave her a small smile “Thanks … but why” 

Clarisse sat down next to you, at first your legs touched but she quickly moved over. “Because I've been a dick.” she sighed and looked over at you. 

She memorized how pretty you looked in her head. 

You let out a soft laugh and nodded your head “That's true … I’m surprised you are owning up to it.” 

“Don't get used to it” she chuckled, which made you turn to look at her. 

“A little birdie helped me realize something.” she spoke again after a moment of silence “Was it Luke?” you asked and she nodded her head “How do you know?” 

“Because if anyone else tried to help you realize something they'd end up in the infirmary and everyone in camp would know,” you responded with a smile. 

Clarisse nodded her head, gently biting onto her lip trying to suppress her smile. “Yeah I guess you’re right about that.” her head dipped down slightly as she looked at her hands. 

“Luke helped me realize how much of an idiot I was.” 

You smiled as you looked up from the flowers you had been trawling around in your hands. You hummed slightly and nodded your head in agreement to which she rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. 

“I like you.” she mumbled finally, “Do you?” she hummed in response, and for a moment you swear you could see a faint blush on her face. “I've been told I'm an aggressive lover, I guess to some people it might be hard to know it’s affection I'm trying to show and not …” 

“Hatred? Yeah, it would've probably been best to clarify that before throwing toilet paper at me.” You laughed softly which caused her to show more of a blush. 

After a few seconds you nudged her shoulder “You’re lucky you're so pretty … or maybe I wouldn’t forgive you.” 

She looked up at you with a small smile, your legs were touching slightly, but the two of you did not seem to care. 

A piece of her hair fell in front of her face, and you were quick to brush it away. 

If it was anyone else touching her, Clarisse was sure they'd already be dead, not only that she was sure that her father was probably groaning at how sappy they were behaving, but she couldn't care at the moment. 

You kept your gaze connected with hers, and it didn't take long for Clarisse to act on her desires and kiss you softly.

A/N - y'all I don't know what I just wrote, and I know I didn't represent our girl right!!

[billthedrake]

WINGMAN

I generally had a clean lifestyle, at least lately, but it was Mike Gelson's bachelor party, and we five dudes were partying it up in Nashville. I may have been doing my goody two-shoes Brendan Peters thing and getting club soda every few rounds, but my tolerance was down and I was getting good and truly wasted.

My best buddy James Carducci noticed, too. Like me, he was a big guy, a former tight end who carried a lot of muscle on his 6'5" frame, but unlike me he could hold his liquor.

"You gonna get laid tonight, Peters?" he growled in my ear as we entered the room we were sharing. "It's fun to see you let your hair down."

I gave him a scowl but knew he was just ribbing me. It's what buddies did. "Why can't we have the bachelor party in New York or something?"

Carducci knew what I meant. He plopped on one of the beds, his big frame taking up most of the double bed mattress. "Bro, you could have all the gay dudes around you and you'd still be too fuckin' picky."

I lay down on the other bed, looking over at my best friend. We'd both moved to the same city after graduation. Coming out had been a big messy process for me, and James had been the most supportive of my college friends. He was enthusiastically bisexual - not advertising it or anything, but we quickly realized we could switch from teammate-buddies to guy talk and back.

Still, we were opposites in a lot of ways. "Dude... it's easy for you. You just want to get your dick wet."

We'd had versions of this conversation before. He grinned. "Bro, maybe you should get your dick wet for a change. It'd keep you from being a cranky bitch." Yeah, Carducci could get away saying stuff to me no one else could. Then turning his meaty body on his side, he looked right at me. "I get it, Peters. But maybe while you wait for Mr. Right, you can have some fun. I mean, Kevin Murphy's not gonna suck your cock."

"What the fuck?!" I played dumb. Kevin had been the kicker on our D1 team and was Mike Gelson's best man. He was my type to a T... shorter than me and leaner, boy-next-door cute, tight body and a bubble ass.

James lay back again and put his arms around his back, arms knotted and pumped. If I was into big dudes like myself, there might be sexual tension between us. "Bro, it's all over your face. Remember, I know your fuckin' type."

"C'mon, JC," I pleaded, using my nickname for him.

He grinned. "Don't worry, Peters, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone. You know that. Crush out on Murphy all you want. You're just barking up the wrong tree."

"Yeah," I sighed. "It's majorly against the bro code." I was starting to get resentful of how being a horny gay dude and an ex-jock living by the bro code were not exactly compatible.

That got a deep laugh from JC. "So's fucking your buddy's dad."

I sat up, the alcohol and quick movement making my head dizzy. "What?!?!" Normally I'd write off the comment as Carducci being a jokester but the way his words came out made them seem real.

He now sat up and reached down to paw at his crotch to rearrange his junk. "This stays between us," he warned.

"Scouts honor, man," I replied.

My friend got a wild look on his face and a leer as he said, "I banged Gelson's dad."

"Mike Gelson," I clarified. "The fucking groom."

He seemed annoyed. "What other Gelsons do you know, dumbass? Yeah, Mike Gelson's father. It was a couple of years ago, when Mike invited a couple of us to his family's lake house." James was closer to Gelson than I was, which only made what he was describing seme more transgressive.

"Dude, isn't Mr. Gelson like 45?" I'd briefly met the man once but he didn't make too much an impression on me, I guess.

Carducci leered. "He was 50 then, and it was fucking glorious. A whole week, both of us enjoying sneaking around." I knew JC had a bit of a kink for married men. We didn't overshare, but I'd very occasionally hear about a hookup or, more often, I'd unload about a date that didn't go like I wanted.

I had to rib him now. "What, you going for the daddies now, JC?"

Without missing a beat, he looked at me with his brown eyes. "Abso-fucking-lutely, Peters. Exclusively even. You should try an older dude for a change."

I didn't think I was easily shocked but the turn of the conversation had indeed rattled me. I went silent before I said quietly, "Man, I couldn't date a guy my dad's age. What the fuck?"

He laughed. "Dude, who's talking about dating? You're a hot fucking dude, you should be having sex nonstop... " He paused. "Can I be honest, bro?"

I nodded, bracing myself for the barrage of criticism. But this was Carducci, I knew he was looking after me.

"Well," James started. "You always go for the unavailable ones like Murphy, or for the stuck up ones who think they're the shit for having an Insta following." For all of our odd-couple conversations, Carducci had never spelled it out for me quite like this. But he was totally right. "I dunno, maybe you should go outside your type just to see. There are so many daddies out there who'd be so fucking appreciative to make it with a guy like you.... You could use the ego boost, bro."

I thought it over. "Is that what older guys are to you?" I asked. "An ego boost?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I have a pretty massive ego already, bro, I don't need help with that. I just love sex with an older guy." I watched as he pulled a spare pillow down to cover his crotch. I knew why: Carducci was boning up talking about sex, and while we shared a lot there still was the bro code between us. "Some of em have a wild side, like a drunk sorority chick."

I shook my head. "Jesus, JC."

I knew the alcohol was getting us both to open up to this conversation. "It's not like that, Peters. I mean, you know you're with a dude, a real masculine dude at that. But there's that wild, naughty streak beneath the surface. I fucking love it."

He reached over and picked up his phone.

"What? Are you gonna show me a picture of one of your conquests?" I asked.

He looked up and winked. "Perv. No, bro, I'm lining up a blowjob. There's gotta be a horny daddy staying in this hotel."

I blushed. "You serious?"

"Sure, I'm serious," he said, now not taking his eyes off the app as he scrolled through. "Jesus you can be such a fucking prude."

I lay back, feeling insulted but mostly angry that he was right. I'd set up a Grindr profile and used it some but then swore it off over the last year. "Well, you're not bringing him back here," I said.

JC now looked up. "Like I said. Cranky bitch." There was teasing sure, but I think I'd actually pissed off my buddy. I almost apologized but I was stubborn.

Anyway, he was now getting off the bed and putting his shoes back on.

"Already?" I asked with astonishment. JC hadn't been on that app much longer than five minutes.

He laughed. "What can I say, bro?" He smiled. "Daddy wants this..." he used his hand to gesture to his tall muscular body. "I'm in Nashville, I'm gonna have a little fucking fun." He had his phone and key card and seemed good to go. "You should too, Peters. For real."

I didn't say anything but I gave a look that was my attempt at an "I'll think about it."

And like that, I watched my best friend leave our room.

***

The lamplight was still on when I woke up. I'd conked out in my drunkenness. I was massively hungover but I always wake up pretty quickly. Light was coming in and the clock said a little after 8.

Carducci's bed was still made and still empty. The fucker.

I got up and pissed and popped a couple of aspirin, hoping they'd help. My head pounded. And we still had another night of this fucking bachelor party weekend. I wondered if these dudes would want to come to mine when the time came. Hell, I wondered if I'd have one.

I brushed my teeth to get the stale beer taste out of my mouth. My hair was mussed up and I did my best to comb it down.

Fifteen minutes later, after a trip to the lobby to get some coffee, I was feeling more alive. Hungover still, but better. I didn't feel like eating anything, but the aspirin was helping.

I picked up my phone. I'd uninstalled Grindr but it was easy enough to re-install it. It took me a second to remember my login, but I used one of my common passwords. One of these days, I'd need to choose something more secure for my shit.

There were some hot guys in Nashville, but I'd gotten spoiled by the city I lived in now. There was a certain type I was seeing here - either bigger, beefier guys, or else younger thinner twinks. My type was always in between that. I wanted more Dierks Bentley and was seeing a lot more Garth Brooks types, even among the 20-somethings.

I'd been replaying my conversation with JC in my head. He could bust my balls, and maybe in a way I didn't like. But I told myself, I'd give this a try. I changed my profile language to make it less picky and judgmental and adjusted my looking-for age range.

It was early and I didn't see any hits in this hotel, but there was a good looking older guy in the hotel on the next block. Kind of average looking, balding hair, 49yo, but his pics showed off a very fit body, lightly hairy, probably trimmed. Looking for now. If I had to make it with an older dude, this was probably as good a match as any. I'd focus on his body if need be.

"Hey," I typed in a chat. "You're up early."

"Hi man." Then. "This is early?"

"In Nashville it is," I replied back.

"True, ha."

I was never great with the quick hookup thing, but one thing I'd mastered was the art of messaging. Some guys were too direct, not flirty enough, but some guys were too passive and conversational. My style didn't work with everyone, but it was working now, I knew.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"Business. I thought I'd tack on an extra day for fun. And you?"

"Bachelor party."

"Of course, ha." Then, he added. "You're quite the hunk."

"Thanks man," I typed. "You're hot, too." I wasn't sure how much I thought that. It's not that he wasn't hot, because he was in a way. But in my fucked up way, I knew he wasn't Brendan Peters-worthy hot. Not in my league. But I tried to embrace the Carducci way. "You say you bottom, right?" His profile had read vers-bottom.

"Yep. You wanting to fuck?"

After my conversation with JC, I'd initially been thinking of a blowjob. Baby steps. Something to take the edge off. But now I realized it had been WAY too long since I'd fucked a guy. "God yeah. You able to host?"

"If you can give me fifteen minutes."

I pawed my crotch now. I was getting boned good. "Make it twenty?" I wanted to shower up.

"Sounds good, man."

***

The profile had sold the guy short. He didn't look hotter than his pictures but as he ushered me in, he had a deep sexy voice. Almost gravely, with a New York accent. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and I could see how dense his muscle was on a frame that was about 6 inches shorter than mine.

"Looks like I hit the jackpot, huh?" he smiled. Then as his eyes swept up to my face, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna gush. You know you're smoking hot."

OK, maybe JC was right, I could get used to the ego pump. With a grin I stepped up to the guy and wrapped my arms around his naked torso, drawing him in.

"I wasn't sure..." he started to say in his deep voice befor I cut him off with a kiss.

He was a good kisser. This was a hookup, just a hookup, and our making out wasn't romantic, but I really enjoyed this part of sex, and this man knew how to respond to my groove. His hands felt up my chest as he did his best to match my tongue work.

Maybe it had been so long since I'd had sex, but the feel of his bare skin and hard back muscle under my fingers had me rock hard. This guy wasn't my type, but he was masculine and real and he wanted me. I pulled off his towel and broke the kiss so I could reach down and paw at his thick ass. It wasn't a young bubble ass, it wasn't Kevin Murphy's kicker's ass, but this man went to the gym regularly and had for years.

"Yess.." he hissed.

I kneaded his ass for a minute longer then stepped back, in full ready to fuck mode. As I reached down and started undoing my shorts and kicking off my shoes, my trick looked at me with horny anticipation, his daddy dick hard and leaking, a solid six-incher that stood out from his trimmed but hairy crotch.

"I guess we didn't talk about specifics," he said, stepping back to the bed. "You a missionary or doggy position kind of guy?"

God, this was 180 degrees from my normal Grindr experience. I always met freaks who'd get real porny and weird, or I met guys who were bossy about their needs. This man had a fun laid-back vibe, even as we were getting to brass tacks.

Usually my answer would be missionary. "Doggy," I leered, letting my thick long cock fall out as I pushed my underwear down.

"Fuck," the daddy hissed. "You didn't exaggerate the measurements. Take it a little easy at first, then I'm good to go." I watched as he got onto the bed, on all fours. It was clearly the body of a man in his late 40s, but I was going to enjoy it all the same.

I got up on after him, letting the mattress sink with my weight. I'd hit almost 240 in college ball, and while I'd leaned down a little since then, I still was 230 pounds of tall muscle.

I remember one time I'd started eating out some model looking guy I'd hooked up with and he about freaked out, telling me he wasn't into getting rim. But as I kissed along this man's lightly furred ass cheeks, one side then the other, he spread his legs in an unmistakeable green light. I dove in and licked.

Fuck, this daddy loved it. I thought about what JC said. Masculine dudes with that drunk sorority chick worthy wild streak. He was some regular guy on business, and he was enjoying me eating him out and munching wildly at his clean pucker.

"Holy fuck, dude!" he growled, the deep voice making his words seem more sexual. "Eat my fucking hole."

I did. I wasn't even expecting an extended rim session for this. I almost thought it would be a pump and go, but I now rode the experience, gripping his cheeks, pulling them apart and tongue fucking this man who indeed was old enough to be my father.

I could have kept at it, too, but I needed to fuck. I leaned up, wiped off the spit from my chin and reached down to wet my cock.

"There's lube and condoms," he said, nodding to the night stand. "I'm on PREP so do what you want, man." Again, that deep voice had my balls twitching.

I slathered on some lube and lined up my bare prick. Daddy was gonna get raw dogged. I gave a two-mississippi pause then pushed to enter him.

There was some snugness at the ring but otherwise no real resistance. I popped in, making the man grunt a little, but he braced his upper body, took a deep breath, then nodded. I pushed my way all the way in, deep into his hot tightness. I forgot how amazing a good fuck felt. Bottoming out, I gripped his waist and began a slow pump.

"Jesus, you're a big boy," he grunted, excitement in his voice.

"6-four," I teased, now fucking him with firmer strokes.

"I meant your cock," the daddy said.

"I know," I hissed. "You're taking that big dick."

"Christ, man," he replied. "Fuck me! Fuck me big guy!"

I did. Getting more and more into it. I was enjoying this position of holding his waist and using that leverage to pull his leaner muscular build onto my hard pistoning cock as much as I was pushing into him. But as I got more excited and more into the mounting pleasure, I felt a need for something more animalistic. Leaning forward, I covered his back with my muscular chest and torso and just started hammering him with hard short strokes.

"Oh fuck oh fuck," he hissed. Loving it, but feeling the challenge of taking me that way, given my strength.

It wouldn't take long though. I now supported my weight with one arm while the other one wrapped around him, pulling his hard body next to mine for maximum contact and steady penetration.

He too was braced on one hand now while the jerked off to my inward strokes.

He came a second before me, but it was a photo finish. I let out a deep heavy growl and enjoyed the most amazing orgasm I'd had in a LONG time.

He finally withdrew his hand and let my weight push him down into a flat lying position.

"Am I too heavy?" I asked as I kissed his neck softly. I didn't want to pull out just yet, the aftershocks felt pretty amazing.

"I'm good," came that deep voice. "I like it, actually."

I kissed him more, along his neck. It's a weird thing of mine. Some guys lose interest after getting their nut, but I get in a real romantic headspace after cumming. It's freaked some men out.

Daddy picked up on it. "I thought you'd be a fuck and go kind of guy," he said with a soft laugh.

"Sorry," I said, pushing myself up off him some.

"Don't apologize, it's nice."

I ran my hand along the man's arm. Strong, not as big as mine, but there's something about an older man that meant more seasoned muscle. "I know this is just a hookup," I said. "I just like talking with a guy I have sex with. I'm weird, I guess."

He got quiet, but his reply felt calm and measured. "We can grab brunch if you like. I can learn more about the guy who just gave me the fuck of my life."

"Yeah," I said.

Now as we uncoupled and rinsed off in the bathroom before getting dressed again, I was having second doubts, and maybe I was leading him on too much. I absolutely didn't want anything serious with this guy. After today, I'd probably half forget him. This was just my hormones talking.

He seemed to read me. "You OK, man?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He gave me an empathetic look. "Don't worry, I know I'm just a piece of tail to you. But I'm starving... why don't we get a bite and then you can get back to your bachelor party duties?"

I smiled. "Sounds good," I said. I stepped up and kissed him, softly. Wrapping my arms around his waist and enjoying the height difference.

"My name's Curt," he said.

"Brendan," I said.

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending

[cheriladycl01]

I think you're full of shit! Yuki Tsunoda x Artist! Reader

Plot: You get lost in Japan when your travelling to get inspo when a boy claims he drives really fast cars.

You were currently lost in Japan, you'd been on your way to an art gallery and studio when you'd taken one wrong turn and ended up in the middle of Tokyo.

You also didn't know enough Japanese to get you out of this situation and you didn't want to be that annoying tourist. So you set yourself up in a public park opposite a huge cherry blossom tree in full bloom that was hanging over the lake there.

Your easel was out facing the direction you intended to paint while all of your tools were rested in your little pop up desk to the side of the easel. You been painting for at least two hours now, only having captures the basics of the landscape.

You were getting hungry but knew you couldn't just leave the art here incase someone tried messing with it or stealing it. So you continued on, some people would come up and gasp when they saw what you were painting, the compliments in Japanese getting more and more common as your painting started to get to the final few steps until it would be done.

"Hello" a voice calls from behind you causing you to flinch a little, the English catching you off guard. Luckily your brushes were no-where near the canvas that had your art on.

"Oh!" you smile looking at the man that was standing behind you gazing from the art to the backdrop that you were using as your muse.

"That's really good!" he smiles stepping next to you, and you now notice that your a little taller than he is, however that was an uncommon thing in Japan with you being on the taller side of women.

"Thank you, I erm wasn't actually supposed to paint here but I'm really glad I did. It's a beautiful location" you admit looking around the other area of the part that the square of your canvas wasn't capturing.

"Where were you supposed to paint?" he asks.

"Erm, some gallery in Shinjuku, but I got lost and I ended up here. I didn't want to look like one of those annoying tourists!" you smile awkwardly.

"Well, I don't know about you still being able to paint in the studio but the gallery should still be open if you want me to take you there?" he offers and you eye him carefully.

"How do I know you aren't going to kidnap me?" you ask crossing your arms.

"I have a reputation that I would heavily damage if i did do that!" he jokes but see's that you still don't look convinced.

"I drive for a living, in really really fast cars" he offers to you, making you cock your head to the side. So he was on TV, and drove cars if he had a reputation.

"So like Top Gear?" you ask.

"Mmm not exactly more competitive than that" he laughs and you look over him again.

"I think your full of shit!" you laugh, not believing this kind and humble man has any ounce of fame behind him.

"Mmm, come find out!" he offers and you look at him like he's crazy.

"Sorry?" you laugh.

"I'm an F1 Driver, I'll get you tickets if your still here for the Grand Prix next week. It's my home race after all" he offers, of course you'd heard of the racing sport but you weren't ever one to pay much attention to it.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal..." you press wondering his name.

"Yuki, my name's Yuki!" he smiles. You slowly start to pack up, having finished your painting when you were first talking to him.

"I need to take this all back to my hotel first, then can you take me to the gallery?" you ask, making sure all your paints were sealed so they wouldn't spill out into your shoulder bag.

"Sure, where are you staying?" he asks and you show him the address of the hotel on your phone, you both walk back through the streets of Tokyo him pointing out little things you'd missed in your time here. He brought up other places that he thought you'd like to paint and in seconds had you rambling about how you didn't just paint you just preferred to.

You'd got to the hotel in just a 30 minute walk and you placed all your stuff back in your room making sure the canvas wasn't near anything that would make it too hot and run. You grabbed your professional camera knowing having Yuki around he'd find some good places for you to get photos of the city.

In minutes you were back out on the busy streets of Tokyo Centre, as you were going across the Shibuya crossing Yuki grabbed your hand so you wouldn't get lost. With it being the late afternoon, all Japanese office workers were finishing their days up in the office and heading for their commute out of the city.

"It's very busy so you have to stay close!" he yells a little over the loudness of the crowd on the crossing.

"I know, I'm right here" you beam back, watching roughly where the end of the crossing was coming too. You could see the gallery at the end of the road Yuki was starting to head down and you could already tell it was going to be fantastic with the architecture from the outside.

"Oh woah, let me get a picture!" you exclaimed, the way the sun set down the street flickering off the building and the way it light up the graphic design on the back of Yuki's denim jacket.

"Oh sorry! I'm ruining your shot" Yuki says stepping to the side noticing you looking through your camera and kneeling down to get the perfect shot.

"No no stay back where you were facing away. You looked great!" you say looking at his bright smile through the camera making you snap an picture of him facing you and laughing.

"Are you sure your this super fast race car driver not a model?" you shout over to him as he starts to squat in a pose for you.

He comes over wanting to see the work done, the pictures he's been in.

"Woah, you have such an artistic eye." he smiles looking through the pictures you'd caught. Seeing how it made him look exactly like you said ... a model.

You continued to the gallery and walked around with Yuki, taking pictures and checking out the art.

"I really want to be in a gallery like this one day" you sigh looking at a particular group of paintings that had a similar style to yours.

"Mmmm i think you will. You really have an eye for all this!" he smiles.

"Thank you, really!" you smile.

Taglist:

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