#but in my defense *I* thought it was funny even if he very much did not

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Aka "you've ruined a perfectly good Damas is what you did. Look at him, he's got anxiety"

(For context, I gave Damas a backstory of being last in line for Haven's throne, but also Last Man Standing. This had something to do with Praxis hating "the default king". Long post warning, it's a whole one-shot again)

At some point in his life, the Precursors had decided that Damas was their least favorite Maridius. Any time something went well for him, it had to be immediately balanced by something awful.

He found acceptance and camaraderie that he never had from his elder brothers among the Forward Guard in the war.

And then Menelaus and Nicostratus died stupid, pointless deaths trying to seize glory, leaving Damas the sole focus of his parents' hopes.

He found an escape from the pressures in running the numbers, working out which districts needed food more than soldiers, and which districts needed more protection than most.

And then Father died and Mother shut herself in a convent, no longer interested in anything to do with her disappointing youngest son.

He actually had support from people for focusing on them and not the nest-

And his eldest brother's childhood friend literally stabbed him in the back and left him to die in the desert.

For a time, he'd assumed things would never get better. That the Precursors were tired of reeling him in and out like a fish on the line. But the hook pulled once more and he found himself using the skills he'd learned from the guards who raised him, joining a rebellion against a tyrant and defeating him against the odds.

And then the Precursors let him have ten good years. They let him find love, and family. They let him become a father. And then they ripped it all away in the cruelest way possible.

Damas knew it was foolish to hope that Mar was alive. He knew Phobos had been right to move on from him -- from them -- and throw herself into operating the orphan barracks of the Cliffside district. But he couldn't let go yet.

So he'd endured. Two bitter years he'd endured. And when he found that scrap of a boy in the desert, only to watch him outdo warriors twice his age, he'd thought maybe things were getting better.

Jak was...hard to define. The kid had seen more combat than some of his most experienced scouts. He carried scars on par with the surviving child-soldiers of Atys's reign. And while he shared their distrust of authority in general, he had none of their understanding of ranks and rulers. He just...treated everyone like they were his equal.

And after the kinds of things he must have experienced in his short life, Jak probably had every right to consider himself the equal of any senior Wastelander.

And for a moment, Damas had foolishly let himself hope that the Precursors could leave well enough alone. That they'd just...let him have this-!

Annnnd then Jak had to go and break the one rule. The one law Damas had given him.

Do not compromise the Arena.

Six other candidates had been doing their third trial against the Leucas Freebooters in that Arena. Six other candidates whose results had to be thrown out, who had to wait for full citizenship, because Jak refused to fight, and Sig had decided to waltz into a trial without checking to see what the purpose of the trial was!

Damas was either going to lose his mind, or go fully rogue and declare war on the Precursors. He couldn't discount either option yet.

Deep breaths, Damas. Deep breaths.

Jak knew not to mess with the purity of the Arena. He knew that, didn't he? He couldn't have gotten this far without understanding how important it was to keep the trial balanced for all candidates! He had to have known the consequences for not only compromising the others' trials and putting them at risk of the Freebooters getting the upper hand on them, but open mutiny-!

He wanted to shake sense into the boy. Maybe smack him upside the head and hope it jarred his common sense loose. But he wasn't likely to get that chance.

Even if Sig had caused this, he had all three amulets. Jak only had two. Those two protected him from a lot, but not public mutiny. A challenge in private Damas could have handled.

He knew Jak -- he thought he knew Jak -- enough to make him understand whatever instruction or decision he had a problem with. He knew how to phrase things to make it sound like all Jak had done was ask for clarification.

He couldn't cover this one up. Not with this many witnesses.

Damas knew the name of the creature thrashing beneath his ribs. Terror.

It clawed at his lungs, coiled around them until he couldn't breathe. Kicked at his heart until he felt every beat like a hammer.

I can't lose him too. I won't lose him too!

He didn't know when, exactly, things had changed between them. Was it before he'd admitted that he'd never had a father to teach him- well, anything? Was it before his second trial, when Phobos had pointedly compared the boy to her own students? Was it her less than subtle hinting that he find his closure in helping the boy he'd dragged out of the mouth of death?

Did it even matter?

You've taken enough from me! You can't have him, too!

It was depressingly easy to mask fear with anger. He had been doing it all his life.

In hindsight, so had Jak.

Damas wondered later if that was why the boy didn't seem afraid. He glared at Damas the whole time, but in those eyes was a challenge: I see through you. You don't fool me.

Damas hoped no one else saw through him.

"What have you done?" he demanded, slamming the butt of his staff onto the stone with a ringing clang.

"One of those Freebooters could have shot you in the head -- shot your comrades -- because you threw down your gun! You placed yourself and them in danger!"

I stopped the trial because of you! Do you not grasp how serious this is?!

"Freebooters?!" Sig exclaimed in surprise before cutting himself off.

"And you, you're a veteran of the Arena! You have no excuse for this!" Damas snarled.

He knew he was going to have to set a punishment. If he didn't, the legislative council would. And he knew which of the two offenders they would favor.

"I shouldn't have to tell you the penalty for sabotaging citizenship trials!"

Sig risked a glance at Jak, then set his jaw.

"You're right," he said in a voice as artificially calm as Damas’s was artificially angry. "I don't have an excuse. I take full responsibility. Don't put this on Jak. He didn't know I'd be there."

Interesting. Sig was trying to protect Jak.

But in doing so, he was trying to force Damas into an impossible decision. One that would haunt him the rest of his life if he carried out the known sentence. After everything Sig had done for him, exile felt like blasphemy.

Damas clearly wasn't the only Spargan who thought so.

"Sire, think about this!" One of the Arena guards set foot on the pathway as if he intended to join the offenders.

"It can't end this way, it can't! Sig is one of us!"

One of his comrades, emboldened by his courage, joined him.

"He just came home from assignment!"

"Stop," Sig warned them, but was ignored.

"Lord Damas, Sig’s served faithfully as your spy in Haven two years! Surely it's not that surprising that he might forget to check a roster!"

"Char is right!" The first guard cried, "It's the newcomer who deserves no mercy!"

You'd better shut your mouth-

Damas knew they were just standing up for a fellow Spargan. He knew that if Jak had all three amulets, they'd be rallying on his behalf, too. But it rankled to see them turn on the boy so quickly.

"Sire, if anyone must be cast into the desert, it's him!" Rikard pointed a shaking finger at Jak.

The words were out before Damas had time to plan his next move.

"Absolutely not! I'm not letting him off that easy!"

Oh rot. He had to follow that up with something.

Think, Damas! Use your shiny, spiny, head for once and think like Obed taught you!

He thought of the old captain of the Krimzon Guard -- when that had meant something, when only the king’s honor guard wore those tattoos -- the man who had raised him when his own family hadn't been interested in such a weak channeler.

There's always another way, whelp."

Then you tell me, Obed! I don't know what to do!

He reached for that memory desperately.

*Sometimes, you face your enemy head-on. And sometimes, you wait until you see a weakness. A loophole."

"You're talking about my brothers again."

"Now, did I say that? Clean the gunpowder out of your ears, whelp, before you get me in trouble!"

A loophole. I can do that. I can still save them-!

Damas sucked in a calming breath through his teeth.

"You do make a point about Sig’s record of service. I would not be king if I did not try to keep you all alive."

Let this work, please, Obed, if you're still watching over me, let this work.

"This once, I will give you the opportunity to salvage this. In your absence, metalpedes have settled in Turquoise Canyon and begun harassing our artificact carriers."

He leaned on his staff and hoped no one saw the tension in his jaw for what it really was: fear.

"I want you to drive into the heart of the nest and take out anything that moves."

He turned on his heel to send a hard stare Jak's way.

"Unlike Sig, you get a choice right now: stay here and forfeit your second amulet, or go with Sig and repay the damage you did today with something that benefits your community."

He prayed Jak could hear the emptiness of his threat. That he would know what Damas needed him to do.

Jak was not technology-friendly. Anything that required precision or aiming was more likely to be used as a blunt force weapon. But put him on a turret gun and the boy was a prodigy. If he went with Sig, the odds of them both surviving skyrocketed.

Jak's glare melted into something uncertain, even a little fearful. He was weighing his options. Good. That would sell the act more to the guards -- who were, like all watchmen, incurable gossips.

Damas saw the moment the light clicked on for Jak. He knew that glint.

Jak nudged Daxter, almost too quickly to be seen, and Daxter nodded. To anyone else, it would seem he was responding to Jak.

Damas knew that Daxter was answering him on Jak’s behalf.

Message received.

"I'm not gonna let you send Sig in there alone."

Damas almost smiled. Defiant to the last. Never change, Jak. Unless it's to learn some common sense-!

"Then perhaps something good can come of this debacle. But understand this, boy: coming back from destroying that nest does not mean this discussion is over. I expect you to turn over your gate pass when you return. You're off scouting for three weeks."

"You're grounding us?!" Daxter shrieked.

"Keep talking, I'll make it a full month."

That one wasn't an empty threat. If he'd thought it would keep Jak out of harm's way, he'd keep him off missions indefinitely!

"We're going," Sig said quickly, and grabbed Jak by the arm before he could protest.

"I'd say good luck," Damas said dryly, "But then, luck won't help you."

which is why I'm sending Jak.

The second the elevator was out of sight, Damas dropped into his throne with the most long-suffering, exasperated groan he'd ever made.

"Someone tell me this is a dream and I'm actually dying of boredom in a financial meeting right now," he said sarcastically.

When no such reassurance arrived from the guards, he dropped his head into his hands with another irritated sound.

In the silence that followed, even over the water wheel they both heard him mutter,

"What am I going to do with that boy?"

Rikard was...not a bad guard. He did his job, and he stuck by his comrades. But he had a big mouth sometimes.

"You...favor the newcomer then? Is it his age?"

Damas aimed a tired glare at him over his fingers.

"Boy, if I told you some of the things I did at his age...."

He groaned again.

"This is boundary-testing. I've seen worse. Rot, I've been worse!"

Silence enveloped them again as the two guards stared at Damas, and Damas stared back. He hadn't meant it to come out like that. After several seconds of owlish blinking back and forth, he said simply,

"Crap. I think I adopted him."

Char turned her head quickly to hide the fact that she was trying very hard not to laugh at the king’s slightly stunned expression.

"Do you...think this will be an adequate lesson?"

Rikard winced. At least he knew he was questioning Damas’s choices in parenting. Er, ruling.

"The nest? Perhaps. It's the confinement that's going to get him." Damas snorted. "You know how Wastelanders are about adrenaline. You ground a kid like that? End of the world."

Mar was exactly the same. Gods, if he's as stubborn as Jak at that age, I'm done for. Might as well write the epitaph now: "died of a heart-attack from idiot sons doing idiot stunts".

"As long as he doesn't set anything on fire in the Arena, sounds good to me," said Char, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Are we clear to return to our posts?"

"Can't set things on fire if I don't let him get two yards away from me, right?" Damas grumbled, but he waved a hand in dismissal.

Once alone, Damas dragged his fingers down his face and muffled a scream in his palm. He was going to get Sig for this. Babysitting. Indefinitely. Or maybe make him handle Arena trials for a while, let him feel that stress! And Jak? Jak was grounded. So, so very grounded. If he had to make Jak sit through meetings with him in the throne room to get it through his head, then so be it. No stunts, no racing, no "the Precursors made me do it" nonsense.

Briefly, he glanced up at the statue of the Oracle in his throne room. Gaudy thing, but it did house a lot of parts of the water wheel.

Damas flipped it off.

[yzzart]

hii!! love your work and i appreciate you so much for writing for tom <3 i was wondering if you could write a tom blyth x reader for the interview the cast did of how well the know each other??

An unfair test.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: do you, Rachel and Josh, really, know Tom?

word count: 1.990!

notes: anon, you don't know how much i enjoy writing these types of interviews and i love you for requesting this! — and i'm serious, I LOVE writing this!

"And today, we'll be competing against each other to see how well we know our friend Tom Blyth!" — You explained, crossing your legs and excited about what could happen.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you took one of the small cards that Tom was holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Is asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him cheating?" — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and returning the small card to your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah?" —Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. - "Look at this!" — She exclaimed, surprised and Josh's laugh was followed by the camera.

"Alright, let's do it." — Tom continued with an excited tone, moving the pen, which will be used, and reading for quick seconds the question that was on one of the cards. — "First question…" — He placed the card with the name 'Vanity Fair' on his chest. — "…what is my biggest fear?"

Tom looked at you, with a funny look of complicity and as if he was saying "oh, you know the answer" and it was, impossible, to try or contain the laughter. — Receiving looks and attention from Rachel and Josh.

"She knows." — Josh stated, thinking about his possible answer or something that could come to a correct conclusion. — "She definitely knows." — Leaning on the chain, you touched his arm.

"It's kind of funny to look at you and be like, hm, let me guess." — Rachel leaned over, resting her fingers on her chin, indicating a thoughtful pose and appearance. — "Let me guess, you don't wanna die alone." — She laughed. — "Please, Y/N, give me a clue!" — Her head rested on your shoulder.

"Wait, i guess i'm not so sure about my answer." — Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened, dramatically, a little at your words. — "I just think! "— You bit your lip, poking his knee.

"I have a guess." — Rachel turned to her boyfriend, waiting for him to say something or even give the correct answer.

"I think, mine is probably a little bit more shallow, but i think i got a guess, too." — Tom laughed at Josh's comment.

"Mine's the opposite." — Rachel said. — "You have a fear of like open water." — She observed some reaction or at least a simple speck of something new on his face, trying to guess if she was correct, but, she found nothing. — "Okay, you don't."

"What, is that your guess?" — He asked, tilting his head, as if wanting confirmation and certainty, to Rachel.

"Yeah, that's my guess." — She shook her head.

"Okay, Josh?" — Tom asked.

"I was gonna say mountain lions." — He reflected, still not sure if he would really go ahead with this guess and loud, synchronized laughter erupted in the room.

"In what way is this more shallow?" — Your boyfriend questioned himself and looked for a justification, a meaning for that comment. — "I'm curious."

"That's very poetic, in certain words." — You raised his hand in defense.

"I thought you were gonna say something like conceptual." — He referred to Rachel's guess, which failed along the way, and tried to justify it.

"Are you sure about your guess, darling?" — Tom pointed the card, with the answer, at you and he couldn't hide, even biting his lip, the anxious smile and, really, hoping that you would say the right answer. — "Or will it be a concrete answer?"

"You're making me nervous, excuse me?" — Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Definitely snakes." — You replied confidently, looking at your boyfriend and then at the camera.

"Actually, ironically, and that's like my childhood fear…" — He waved his hand. — "…which i've already overcome." — Tom finally turned the little card over so that the answer was visible and being revealed. — "Snakes!"

"The purest irony, that's incredible." — Tom pointed at you, a sign of affirmation. — "And so funny at the same time."

"Yes!" — He turned the card over again.. — "I was afraid of snakes when i was a kid because i saw a lot of Indiana Jones, and i watched a lot." — A scenario of little Tom watching Indiana Jones played in his head, causing a smile to appear on his lips. — "And i feel like this fear transformed me, you know?"

"Because cool people can be afraid of snakes." — Rachel added.

"Because cool people are afraid of snakes." — Tom agreed.

"And the fact that on set, we had two snakes, and you had to act with them for one part, is impressive." — Tom once again placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly.

"But, i'm not afraid of them anymore." — Maybe, a little, but, he wouldn't say at that moment. — "I've had a lot of therapy, honey." — You laughed. — "That's my biggest childhood fear, like, it's the first thing that would come to my mind if you asked me that."

In the future, during the editing of the video, a scoreboard with your name, Rachel's and Josh's would appear at that moment and with each one's score. — And you would be ahead, even with your colleagues' comments about how unfair it seemed that you were winning. — Indeed.

"Next question!" — Tom warned, holding up another card. — "Who is my ideal dinner guest?" — He looked at you again as you thought of yet another answer or possible guess.

"Normally, i would say, but, anyway." — You shrugged, pretending to be thinking about something and got laughs in the room, including from the people who were working behind the cameras; Rachel rested her hand on your back, still laughing. — "This is difficult even for me."

"That's my first and foremost answer!" — Tom stuttered confidently, lifting the paper carefully so that the answer wasn't visible. — "But, let's consider a second option."

"I'm going to say Francis Lawrence…" — Rachel suggested, slowly, and focusing on the main camera in front of her. — "…director of The Hunger Games." — You laughed. — "And to be fair, we'd all have him as a special guest, and he's the best guest."

"He's a great dinner guest." — You mumbled. — "I think he could easily be my guess."

"Oh, mine too." — Rachel positioned herself. — “And i feel like you, that's your ideal, someone who can talk about wine and loves food.” — She paused, thinking about her words and acting as if she said something. — "Y/N could fit that description like a shame, now that i see it." — Her voice swore, and turning her head towards you .

"I was going to say that now!" — Josh said, crossing his arms. — "My guess, which i feel is terrible, is going to be Cyndi Lauper, you know." — He uncrossed his arms, resting one of them on his leg and Rachel hugged the other.

"Okay, okay." — Tom turns the paper to the camera. — "I think it would be David Bowie." — God, you would never get that right.

"I swear he didn't cross my mind for a second." — Your head shook in denial, and in disbelief.

"Me too, i wouldn't understand that." — Josh looked at one of the cameras and Rachel moved one of her hands, a little in disbelief and intrigued.

"What it is, i just think it would be really fun." — Tom tried to justify. — "Okay, so, we have no points for Rachel and Josh and…" — He acted out a movement like they were playing a drum. — "…one point for Y/N."

"We are terrible." — Rachel confessed to her boyfriend. — "Terrible."

“And i feel like she can get another point now.” — Tom read the question quickly, before looking at you, who furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Really?" — You questioned, shook your leg and the british nodded.

"What's my go-to karaoke song?" — He read it and, in the same second, he started writing the answer and thousands of songs ran through his mind; one after the other.

The last karaoke night where you and Tom were present was recent; and, magically, incredible to the point of completing an album of photos and videos in your gallery. — However, it was clearly impossible to conclude what his favorite song was. — And it wasn't an exaggeration or anything like that.

"And you saying i was going to get this one right." — Your complaint passed through the ears of your boyfriend, who showed an incredulous expression.

"Our last karaoke night was, like, two weeks ago?" — Tom didn't remember, and he remembered few things. — "I think, i'm not sure."

"I'm not going to karaoke with you guys" — Rachel's soft voice introduced. — "And i need to start going." — She turned to Josh and you.

"I don't think you sing." — Josh looked up as he spoke.

"He actually sings." — You answered him. — "And he dedicates himself like no one else, a true spectacle."

“I will say it was definitely a punk rock thing.” — Josh's guess entered his mind, and he thought about agreeing with it. — "Something like."

"I would say that a chorus of a Spice Girls or Backsteet Boys song with your voice crossed my mind, but i don't want to consider it as a guess right now." — You placed your hand on your mouth, laughing at the fictional scenario.

"And i would say i don't know what to say." — Rachel murmured. — "Serious."

"I'll give you a hint, it's probably not what you'd expect." — Tom tried to help, but nothing came to her mind.

"I guess that didn't help, dear."

"Mambo number five…" — Josh suggested, speaking quietly, but sure of his guess.

"Josh's mambo number five, what's your guess?" — Blyth directed the small card towards you and Rachel, waiting for your response.

"Any of backsteet boys." — You didn't even specify any of the group's songs, and you wouldn't even have time to choose them; it was as if all their names had disappeared from your consciousness. — "Any one."

"I'm gonna say…" — Rachel thought.

"No, i'll change mine to All the small things." — At the last second, Josh changed his guess and you thought about changing but decided against it.

"All the small things, okay." — Tom pointed out.

"I'm going to say 'I miss you' by Blink 182." — Rachel said with certainty, as there weren't many options due to the lack of opportunities to attend singing nights.

"Wow, it's really the 2000s." — He separated some cards on his lap before turning to the question. — "The answer is, somewhat surprisingly…" — For the third time, Tom turns over the paper with the answer. — "Senhorita by Justin Timberlake."

The disbelieving and doubtful reactions and expressions on your faces were met by Tom's warm and loud laugh. — None of you expected that song. — And you don't remember him singing it.

Or, simply put, that memory was in the back of your mind.

"No chance, not possible." — You said intrigued, looking at your boyfriend and shaking your head in denial, for the second time.

"I don't remember you singing that." — Josh also tried to remember or have some memory with the mentioned song but nothing happened, he didn't remember either. — "Serious."

"We sing!" — Tom insinuated, pointing at you and Josh, who looked at each other and still don't remember the moment; that is if it really existed and he sang that song. — "Because Y/N mentioned Backsteet boys, we can put at least half a point." — Therefore, your name would have a new punctuation, even though it was small and not very valid. — "And she continues ahead!"

"Oh, i give up." — Rachel and Josh spoke at the same time, holding their hands up and laughing loudly.

[leviraaaaaa]

“Levi!”

You barge through the door, all dramatic, gasping and panting, purposely exaggerating to get his attention. But not to your surprise, he didn’t even bother looking up.

“I suppose no one ever taught you, but there’s a concept called knocking.” He said, his eyes fully focused on the papers. His hand moving across it as he wrote. “It’s quite easy really, you raise your hand and—”

“Levi!” You cut him off, slamming the door behind you loudly. “Levi, my beloved, my savior in dark times, I am in need of your help.”

“Slamming the door isn’t very polite either. Your manners get worse everyday.”

You waved him off, shushing him. You made way across the room, where a couch sat not far from the desk he was sitting on, and flopped down face first. “Levi.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Ah yes, making yourself home I see.” He sighs.

“Levi, I need your help. Real bad.”

“No.”

“What–” You look up, raising your face from the cushions, offended. “You didn’t even–”

“No.” He repeated, eyes not leaving his work for even a second. “Please, get off my couch. Cleaning it is tiresome.”

“Levi.” You whined, impatient at his aloofness. “Levi, he’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll buy you a good coffin.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed. “I’m dead. Like literally. Absolutely. This is where it all ends.”

“I’d rather you not die on my couch.”

“Fuck your couch.” You flipped yourself, so you splayed on your back now. You tilted your head, staring at him. “Help me out. Please?”

Levi finally turns to look at you, unable to ignore you any longer. He frowned. “What?” He asked warily. “What did you do this time?”

“Promise me you’ll help me first.” You said.

“No.” He immediately rejects you. “What did you do? Did you get into a fight with an MP again?”

You shook your head.

“Blew up something in Hange’s lab?” He guessed.

“No. But I’d really rather it was Hange mad at me though.”

He looked at you confused, “Who did you piss off then? “

You grimaced. He was quick to conclude.

“Ah.” He realizes. “Erwin.”

A nod from you answers him.

“What did you do?”

“Ask me what I didn’t do.”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Work.” You sat up. “In my defense, it was a shit load of work. And I hate paperwork. And I kept procrastinating. And now it’s due by tomorrow and I didn’t remember until two minutes ago when Erwin shot a glare at me. And now I—”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why not?” You demanded.

“It’s your fault. Don’t drag me into this shit.” He grumbles, scowling. “And you promised last time, you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’m not doing your work for you. I have enough on my plate.”

“Okay first of all, I’m not lazy. I was busy–”

“Ogling Garrison captains.”

“They’re pretty. And no, not the point, shut up.” You protested. “I was busy. And I didn’t come here so you could do it for me. I came here so you could go and talk to Erwin.”

Levi frowned, “Talk to him about what?”

“Tell him to give me one more day. Swear I’d work my ass off.”

“You said that last time too.” He pointed it out. “How angry is Erwin?”

You made a face. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“He keeps glaring at me everytime I meet him. It’s the ‘if you don’t get it done this time, you’re gonna get in so much shit’ glare. It’s creeping me out.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head. “Only you." He said. "Only you can possibly manage piss fucking Erwin off. The guy's a fucking monk, nothing affects him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time asking for an extension.”

“Err…” You ducked your face. “It was kinda supposed to be done 2 weeks ago.”

“2 weeks?” Levo looked at you incredulously. “No wonder he’s pissed. And you’re asking for more time?”

“One more day. Just one more day. Please Levi, he’ll listen to you.”

Levi stares at your pleading expression for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, considering. Thinking. Then he seemed to have made up his mind.

“No.”

“Wha—” You jerk upright. You really thought you’d convinced him.

“No. I’m not getting you out of the grave this time. Specially since you dug it yourself.” He returns his attention back to his work. “Good luck to you, but leave now. And learn a damn lesson.”

You stared at him, gaping. “Wow," You blinked you’re an asshole.”

“Congratulations for realizing that.”

You exhaled. Easy words won’t work, you knew. So, here comes plan A. Acting.

You pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said what I said.”

You fluttered your lashes, all wide shiny eyes, about to cry.

“Get out before I start throwing shit at you.”

“Levi.” Plan B. Bribing.

“No.”

“Leeviii.”

“No.”

“Levi, aren’t you the sweetest, most dearest, my absolute favorite and delightful and super awesome with extra sugar on top bestiest best friend? Don’t be like that, c’mon.”

“Still no. And we’re not friends.”

“‘I’ll make you pie?” You offered.

“You can’t cook to save your life. No.”

"I'll give you hugs."

"I will slap you."

“Levi.” Plan C. Threatening.

He glares back at you.

"You do realize you could've used this time getting the report started instead of trying to convince me and actually might've manage to get it done?”

“I’ll read poetry to you.” You threatened.

Levi looks up, finally there’s a hint of alarm on his face. “No, you won’t.”

“I’ll make sure all your food touch.”

“Get out.”

“I’ll disorganize your bookshelf and fill it with those titan x scout love novels.”

He raised his middle finger at you.

“I will start telling you about all my exes.”

He cringed visibly.

Finally, you gave up. Dragging yourself off the couch, you slowly, pathetically, miserably made your way to the door. You knew that the odds were very low that Levi would actually help you this time, because he was right. You needed to learn a lesson. And it was your fault.

“Oi.”

Your hand was on the doorknob. “What?” You turned to look at him grumpily.

Levi was pinching the bridge of his nose, knitting his eyebrows together, irritated and annoyed. Like he was about to do something he regretted.

He let out a long exhale.

“Bring it here. I’ll help you.”

“What?” You asked, disbelief dripping from your tone. Were you dreaming?

“I’ll help you out. Just this time.” He grunts. “Don’t expect it again. And I’ll only guide you, you’re doing the most of it.”

Music to your ears.

“Really?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He huffed.

You broke into a wide grin, beaming up at him. “No wonder I love you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“You’re the best,”

“Shut up.”

“The best. The most darling, the loveliest, the coolest, the–”

“10 seconds. I’m giving you 10 seconds.”

“Oh–” Your eyes widened. You learnt the hard way Levi usually means his time limits. “Okay, okay, wait here, wait. I’ll be right back. Just–”

And you were out the door,

“Fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself, as you yet again, slammed the door.

He wish he knew why he kept doing this to himself.

[luveline]

I love Bombshell reader x Spencer so much !! But I wanna take it back to wayyy early days and see how they’d interact in season 1 or 2? Or maybe even how the Lila Archer situation would play out if she was around? Much love to you and you’re page and I understand if you don’t want to write this ask :)

tysm ♡ fem

Hotch, for the record, liked you for the open BAU position more than Elle. It's Gideon who's not fond of you. Your flirtatious attitude isn't conducive to teamwork, or something, as though you aren't a professional. Gideon just doesn't like sharing his genius protégé with you.

"I don't have to tell you to be on best behaviour?" Hotch asks.

"No!" you say, really, really meaning it. "When Greenaway gives up, I'll be waiting. Until then, I'm your faithful servant, I won't do anything to disrupt you." 

You're not sure that Hotch totally believes you, but he ushers you off with a street cop to meet Reid and Morgan at the set of your stalkee's upcoming production. You're wide-eyed but eager —seeing the boys again never fails to make you happy, even if the setting is completely unfamiliar to you. 

"Morgan!" you call lightly. He's easily recognisable, and he's been hitting the gym, a wall of tight muscle in his charcoal suit. "Hey!" 

Morgan grins at you but raises a finger to his lips. You accept his pat on the shoulder and follow his line of sight. Spencer stands with a coke bottle in hand, talking to your stalkee, the gorgeous and illustrious Lila Archer. She's the new belle of Hollywood, and she's smiling at Spencer like he has a real chance. He should have a real chance. You know he's a priceless sweetheart, you just didn't realise other people could tell. 

"What's he doing?" you ask, laying your shock on thick to hide the real insecurity. He doesn't even know you're here but he's breaking your heart. "I thought he had a little more loyalty." 

"You don't mind sharing with me, do you?" Lila asks, taking Spencer's coke for a quick swig.

"No," he says immediately. 

She passes him back his drink and unrobes, exposing the long, perfect lengths of her arms and legs before she walks a circle around him. He has stars in his eyes.

Morgan waits for her to take her place in the sand, swinging his arms over the desk. "Are you sharing with us, too?" 

"Shut up," Spencer says, stopping short when he notices you at Morgan's heel. "Y/N. What are you– when did you get here?" 

"I couldn't let you guys have all the fun." You cover Morgan's arm with a perfectly kept hand. "Hotch asked me to come. Didn't even have to beg! And now I get to spend time with my two favourite heavyweights." 

"Funny," Spencer says. 

"He's defensive today," Morgan assures you, his smile smug and catching. 

You test the waters. "Not too defensive, I hope," you say, opening your arms. 

Spencer tucks his coke bottle against his chest and hugs you obligingly. He's warm and he smells like coffee grounds, his hand wide as he pats your back. 

"It's nice to see you," you say. Then, with less good intent, "I missed you, Dr. Reid. Did you miss me?" 

"Don't," he says. 

"I'm serious." You pull away from him, checking over his face. "You've been taking care of yourself, I can see. Where are your glasses?" 

"I got contacts." 

"And you look so good," you croon, rubbing your hand briefly down the front of his chest. You'll miss the glasses dearly. 

Spencer laughs and grabs your wrist. You have to be careful with Spencer, because the very last thing you want to do is give him attention he doesn't want; the point of your affections isn't to make him uncomfortable, the opposite. He needs confidence. "You have the bone structure of a male model," you continue. 

He rolls his eyes and moves you bodily out of the way by the hips, wandering off to who knows where. Morgan gives you a knowing look as he leaves, shaking his head at your flustering. 

"What?" you mutter, pretending to watch the goings on of the director rather than meet his eyes, "I'm not made of stone." 

[togrowoldinv]

Truth or Dare

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

While playing truth or dare with the team, feelings get revealed

Note: I was going to do it as a college au, but I thought an Avengers party would be a fun setting for this one. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It was a silly idea, really, to play truth or dare with the rest of the Avengers. Everyone but Tony thought they were too old for it, but somehow he convinced everyone to play.

It started out simple. Sam dared Tony to chug a drink, Clint made Steve tell the group about his USO tour days, and you dared Wanda to fly up and touch the ceiling.

But as the night went on things got more intense. Everyone started asking hard hitting truth questions or daring each other to make questionable decisions.

“Alright, one last round,” Tony announces once everyone is more than a later wasted and definitely tiring of the job. “Romanoff, you’re up.”

Natasha hadn’t participated very much at this point. She was only dared a couple times to do simple things. No one wanted to mess with her.

“Fine,” she agrees. She rolls the dice and it lands on Tony’s number. He grins at her. “Truth or dare?”

“I think… dare. Why not end the night on a fun one,” Tony answers.

“Okay. I dare you to go home to your girlfriend,” Natasha says.

“Lame!” Tony yells.

“A dare is a dare, Stark,” Steve comes to Nat’s defense.

“I’m staying until my turn,” Tony declares. “Which is now.”

He rolls the dice this time. It lands on your number. You’ve avoided anything too embarrassing so far, but you never know with Tony.

“Y/n, my dear, truth or dare?” He asks dramatically.

“Um, dare?” You phrase it like a question. That makes everyone laugh.

“Dare it is,” he says. He rubs his chin as to appear to be thinking. “I dare you to kiss Natasha.”

The room goes silent at his dare. It seems like everyone is looking at you. Does he know you had a crush on her? Does everyone know? Does Natasha know? The thoughts run through your head as you’re not sure how much time has passed since he dared you.

“Alright, game over,” Sam cuts in.

“Yeah, we all need to rest up for training tomorrow,” Steve adds.

The guys leave the room one by one and say they’re goodnights. Natasha waits by the door frame to catch you when you leave. Wanda remains sitting by your side.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. I just- does he know?”

“I think he’s drunk and was trying to be funny,” Wanda reasons. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

She nudges your shoulder. You offer her a weak smile.

“Thanks Max,” you say.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell her how you feel,” Wanda says. She hugs you before standing up to leave the room.

You stand up, taking a deep breath before you walk, and enter the hallway. Natasha watches and follows you towards the elevator. She steps in after you.

“Oh, your floor?” You ask her, ready to push the button.

“Actually, can we talk?” She asks.

You have no choice but to agree. The two of you exit on your floor. Natasha again follows you as you lead her into the living room area.

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask her.

“What happened back there,” Nat says. “What Tony said.”

“Oh, I don’t know why he did that.”

Natasha takes a step closer to you. It’s small but you notice it.

“Why didn’t you do it?” She asks.

“I- I don’t know,” you lie.

“Y/n, why didn’t you kiss me?”

She steps even closer now. Her body is within arms reach.

“Natasha,” is all you can mumble out.

“I would’ve kissed you,” she admits. “Even in front of everyone. I would’ve.”

You’re taken aback by that. All this time you’ve been crushing on her, you never considered she might have feelings for you too.

“So again, why didn’t you kiss me?” Natasha asks.

Here goes nothing.

“Because if I kissed you then I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” you say.

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

You take the steps closer to her this time. Her hands circle your waist as you do so. It feels right.

“Truth or dare?” Natasha whispers.

“Dare,” you reply.

“Kiss me,” the words fall off her lips just before you kiss them.

You kiss her for what feels like forever. You kiss her until you’re both out of breath. You kiss her like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

The truth is that you and Natasha both needed that push to take the leap together. You wonder if Wanda put the idea into Tony’s head somehow. She’s always looking out for you.

“Stay?” You ask Natasha once you’ve moved to the couch together.

She answers with another kiss. And another. And another.

It’s the perfect end to the day.

[demonpiratehuntress]

The Straw Hats realise they like you and confess

Featuring: Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Usopp x F!Reader

Warnings - angst to comfort (Zoro and Sanji). this is my first time writing for the anime, I'm still very new (only on episode 194) so please be nice, and let me know if they're ooc

ZORO

"He's avoiding me."

"He's not-"

"He can't stand to be in the same room as me."

Despite Nami's protests and reassurance, you were convinced that the green-haired swordsman was doing his utmost best to stay away from you. There was a distance between you two that hadn't been there until two days ago. Two days ago being the moment he realised he had feelings for you - unbeknownst to you.

"I'm sure there's an explanation-" Robin started.

"Well whatever it is, I don't want to hear it."

You were hurt. He had just stopped talking to you, stopped seeking you out for naps, and stopped being in your presence entirely. You don't even know what you did, and that hurt even more. You stood up from the table, brushing past the frozen swordsman as he entered the room. Tears evident in your eyes to all of them as they watched you go.

Why were you crying? Zoro was immediately concerned. He cared about you, after all, much more than anyone else on the crew. He hadn't realised that until he learned his feelings towards you were romantic, which is the reason for his distancing. He was, admittedly, scared by the fact that he liked you, and his defense mechanism of avoidance kicked in.

"What did you do now?" Nami practically growled at the swordsman.

"Me?" He protested. "I didn't do anything."

The orange-haired navigator rolled her eyes, "You're an idiot. You're avoiding her, and it's making her think you suddenly hate her."

Zoro's mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he didn't know what. You thought he hated you? That couldn't be further from the truth. He, the man who had your favourite colour, favourite food, and favourite everything committed to memory, he who knew your birthday better than his own, he who looked through every store on island stops to find something you would like, could never hate you.

But, he supposes avoiding you might have sent the wrong message.

The next day is pretty much the same, with you being in the room and Zoro not. You sighed and buried your face in your arms, just as the swordsman walked in. This time, he didn't leave.

"(Name)."

You looked up, surprised to hear him saying your name. Then you frowned, and dropped your head onto your arms again. You weren't in the mood to deal with him right now.

"I'm...sorry," he got out, a little slow but he managed. "Please look at me."

You sighed again before lifting your head, "What?"

You froze in place, seeing a familiar flower being held out to you. The green-haired swordsman had a bright blush on his face, but he had his head turned as he offered your favourite flower to you, probably too embarrassed about blushing to look at you. You took the flower gently, your own blush forming on your cheeks.

"I like you."

You were stunned for a moment, before your burst into laughter. His eyes widened, his blush darkening as he frowned at you.

"What-what's so funny?!"

"You're adorable."

"I AM NOT ADORABLE!"

The rest of you laughed as he grumbled and hastily trudged off, and you smiled as you looked at the flower in your hand.

"I like you too."

SANJI

It was a well known fact that Sanji was a massive flirt. Everyone knew about the cook's flirtatious antics, because he got heart-eyed over every woman he saw and everyone had witnessed it at some point. Even Nami and Robin were victim to his advances. But you, for some reason, were not. And it was confusing, to say the least, but it also sparked a deep insecurity.

Were you not pretty enough?

Little did you know, Sanji's aversion to flirting with you was only because every time he tried to say something to you, his tongue would tie itself up into a knot. He would not be able to get a word out, and would just end up looking like an idiot. He didn't want to give Zoro more ammunition. Because even looking at you sent all the thoughts in his head flying out, made his heart beat faster than he thought possible, and stole the breath from his lungs. He couldn't look at you without feeling faint.

"Why am I so unattractive?" You groaned one day, flopping down on the kitchen counter while he was cooking.

His eyes widened at your words, because there was simply no way you really thought you were ugly. He stared at you for a moment, and set down what he was holding to come over to you.

"You're not unattractive."

You scoffed, sitting up to look at him, "Please, you should be the last one to tell me that."

Before he could say anything, your eyes filled with tears and you retreated to your room, leaving him feeling so guilty. So it was because of him you felt that way. He thought it would be more romantic if he didn't flirt with you like a common woman, but it seemed that only made you think you weren't worthy of his affections.

Sighing, he followed you and stopped in front of your room door. He tried calling your name, but you didn't respond. Then he began to call you by other names - sweetheart, love, darling, anything romantic he could think of.

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world," he leaned his forehead against the door, "And I'm sorry I made you feel like you aren't. But I just like you so much that you have me tongue-tied every time I set my eyes on you."

You slowly opened the door, "You like me? You have a weird way of showing it."

"I'm so sorry!" He apologised, falling to his knees and clasping his hands together, "Please forgive me! I promise to make you feel prettier than anything and anyone else in the world, my sweet (Name)."

He looked on the verge of tears, so you shook your head with a smile and grabbed his arm to make him stand.

"You're so lucky I like you too."

LUFFY

Lord help you. That's pretty much all that can be said. Because when Luffy develops feelings for you, he has absolutely no idea. He doesn't think much of the fact that he constantly wants to be around you, that he constantly wants your attention and that he suddenly shares his food with you. He's so oblivious that romance could smack him in the face and he still wouldn't know a thing about it. So, naturally, Nami and Sanji have to help him realise that what he feels for you is not the same as what he feels for the rest of the crew.

"Oi, (Name)!"

"Luffy, I-" Nami sighed. There was no point in trying to talk to the captain now, you had come into view and stolen his attention. He could simply not focus on anything but you.

You laughed as you came towards the pair, "Luffy. What did you do this time?"

He pouted, "Why do you always think I did something?"

"You're Luffy," you replied, "When are you not doing something?"

"I just wanted to show you this funny fruit!"

He held up a fruit that he had picked from one of the trees on this island, which did admittedly have a funny shape. He then proceeded to break the fruit in two, and gave you a half. Nami practically fainted. You took that half in shock, but upon closer examination you realised it was no ordinary fruit and you tossed it aside, jumping on Luffy.

"Luffy, spit it out!"

"Why?" He asked, mouth already full.

You groaned, and then slapped his cheek. He spit it all out, stunned by your slap and you sighed in relief that he hadn't swallowed any.

"Why did you hit me?" He asked. "I thought I was showing you that I like you. Do you not like me?"

Your eyes widened when he said this, and a deep blush crossed your cheeks, "I do like you, why do you think I was trying to get you to spit out that poisonous fruit?!"

"IT WAS POISONOUS?!"

USOPP

Pretty sure the only guy to react in a relatively normal way to liking you is this guy. He probably wouldn't notice at first, but he did realise it mid-battle. Some pirates jumped the ship, and his first instinct was to run until he saw you in trouble. You were fighting them off, but one grabbed you from behind and got you into a dangerous chokehold. The bravery to stand up for you that overcame him then was his first indication he had more than friendly feelings towards you.

"(Name), duck!"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DUCK?!"

That's fair. You could barely talk, but you had managed to scream at him. The sharpshooter raised his shaky arms to take aim at the grinning scum that was hurting you, and without hesitating fired one of his exploding stars at him. You gasped and rolled away from the pirate, clutching your throat as you tried to inhale as much air as possible. Usopp rushed over to you, kneeling beside you as the rest of the pirates were dealt with by the others.

"Are you okay?" He asked, so concerned he was fussing over you, checking for any serious injuries and almost fainting when he saw one small cut on your neck. "You're not okay!"

"Hey, I'm fine," you rasped, "It's just a small scratch."

"CHOPPER! CHOPPER!" Usopp was already screaming for the reindeer.

Once you were treated - in other words, given a plaster for your tiny cut - you smacked Usopp on the back of his head, "Zoro and Sanji had much worse injuries, you know."

"W-well, I-I-" Usopp started stammering, his legs wobbling like they always did when he was scared or nervous. "I came down with this new disease, you know-" He rambled. "It's called 'i-like-you-osis' and it's very serious, you know."

You laughed as he took off on his shaky legs to hide after saying that, apparently too flustered by his own words to face you. You smiled and shook your head in dismay.

"I have the same disease, idiot."

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nineteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x 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, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER

Info: Anakin is thoroughly enjoying making you squirm, also, how dare another man look at you [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Your heart stopped and your skin turned cold, every hair on the nape of your neck stood up straight. Scream? Anakin wants to watch Scream? You can’t tell him no, right? You’d mentioned ages ago that you liked the Scream movies, it would be strange to deny that now. Right? You had no choice, you had to act normal, as normal as possible. 

“Scream? Oh! Right.” You nodded, cringing internally as you heard your words aloud. “Yeah, let’s watch that. The original?”

”Duh, that one is the only one worth watching.” He chuckled, looking down at you cuddled up against him. He just adored you so much, even now, watching as you awkwardly cleared your throat and darted your eyes toward anything other than the TV or him.

”Yeah,” You laughed nervously, Anakin smirked but hiding it with a quick lick across his top lip. “Yeah the original is my favorite too.”

”Huh, really?” He asked, trying to sound more thoughtful than teasing. “Why’s that?”

”Why is it my favorite?” You asked, meeting his crystalline eyes for a split second. “I don’t really know, I guess maybe it’s the nostalgia?” 

“Sure.” Anakin snorted, bringing his knuckles to his mouth to hide his downturned smile.

”What?” You scowled, pulling back from your position against his chest so you could see his whole face. “Well why is it your favorite?”

”Geez, defensive are we?” He snickered, pinching your rib playfully. “I’m teasing doll, no need to be ashamed.” He sucked in his cheek on one side of his face, biting down lightly while he let out an amused puff of air through his nostrils.

”Ashamed?” You bolted up and quickly remembered you shouldn’t be acting so jumpy, the more on edge you seem the more suspicious he will become. Right now it seemed he had no clue about Ghost, he was simply being your stupid goof of a clueless boyfriend. 

“I bet you were one of those little freaks who fawned over Billy and Stu even after the masks came off.” His voice low and taunting, like he already knew the answer.

”What?” You squeaked, wiping the shocked expression from your face to replace it with feigned amusement. “Ha-ha very funny.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back to his shoulder, hoping that would signal the end of his teasing.

”S’okay sweetheart.” He whispered as his arms encircled you in a quick squeeze, his hands laced together to rest on your waist. “I’ll quit.”

You felt a mixture of emotions as you watched the movie, the most prominent being embarrassment. It was so difficult to sit there with Anakin who continued to lavish you in affections, while watching people with the face of your lover (who you absolutely did not miss) slash people to death. Why can’t you just be normal? Why can’t you just watch this movie and not be so distracted by the memories you’d been replaying in your mind for days. They were coming back in full force and worse.

It was like watching your Ghost on screen. It was so much more attractive than it ever should be. You hadn’t watched this movie since well before Ghost was officially introduced into your life, the film used to be kitschy and just good old horror movie fun. Now it was more like porn with a side of stabbing. You kept thinking back to that night at the lake, how sick to your stomach you were, how awful you felt for pulling that trigger. How easy it was for Ghost. 

You’d never admit it aloud but deep down, in that terrifying corner of your mind that you squirreled away these darker thoughts containing Ghost, you had stored a different feeling that you’d refused to acknowledge until now. It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t right, this was real life, not fiction. Ghost killed real people, you killed a real person. It wasn’t shits n’ giggles and bad fake blood. 

Real blood, all over everything. You had always thought that scary movies over did it with the blood, that there couldn’t possibly be that big of a puddle, but now you knew for certain, they didn’t use enough. A real gun, real knives, real bodies who used to be real people who had real families. 

So why the hell did you feel so… hot under the collar when you disobeyed his orders and took a peek at his handiwork in the trunk of that car? Was it the confidence in what he was doing, the way he seemed so completely unphased by the situation? Was it the way he was able to stay the same Ghost you’d come to know and love? It was so hard to be scared despite knowing what he was capable of. He made you feel safe and protected, cared for and loved. Even as he was elbow deep inside a corpse. 

He cracked jokes, he hummed and laughed, he got down on your level and comforted you the best that he could all while cleaning up the mess you’d both made. You might’ve almost puked, went into a state of shock, and spiraled for a few days… but with your new perspective it wasn’t really all that bad. Except that it was bad. Illegal, horrid, and a gory mess. Which is exactly why you were having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that watching the killers wearing Ghost’s mask… using that same humor and attitude, had you soaking wet and blushing. 

“Where ya going babydoll?” Anakin asked, his hands falling away from you as you stood up.

”I’ll be right back.” You said, thankful the room was dark as you gave him a quick reassuring smile over your shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Once inside you splashed your face with cold water, begging the pink tint in your cheeks to dissolve. You felt for your phone but realized you’d left it in the living room, probably for the best anyway. You didn’t come in here to text Ghost, you came in here to stop thinking about him. So you left the bathroom and went to Anakin’s room, grabbing the stuffed animal you kept there and returned to Anakin’s lap. Maybe the distraction and quick walk would help to reset your brain.

”You okay pretty girl?” He asked quietly, kissing the crook of your neck lightly as you settled back down. 

“Yeah I’m okay.” You nodded, giving him a soft smile, trying to keep yourself under control and watch a simple movie with him. 

“M’kay.” He hummed, resting a hand on your stomach while the other found its way to your hair, tugging one lock teasingly before playing with it by twirling it around his finger over and over again. 

“I don’t understand how she doesn’t realize that’s her boyfriend.” He scoffed, watching the scene playing out in front of you. “Like you’d think she’d notice the shoes right?” He asked, his hand gently trailing up and down your arm as he watched the movie.

“His shoes?” You asked, paying attention to Ghostface’s feet as he burst out of the bathroom stall.

“Yeah, both of ‘em they wear the same shoes in and out of costume. Those girls have some shit observation skills.” He said, waving his hand flippantly. 

“I think she’s a bit too busy trying not to get murdered to notice his shoes, Ani.” You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before sitting it back down. 

“Hey I’m just saying they should’ve been smarter.” He said, pointing at the screen. “It’s stupid to wear a full consume but not change your damn shoes.”

“It would make sense yeah.” You agreed without much thought, watching as Sidney ran down the hall and trampled down the stairs.

“I always thought he should’ve got one good jab in.” He said, pushing his hand forward in a stabbing motion. “Have her stumble out into the hall holding her guts.”

”That’s disgusting.” You grimaced, looking up at him to see him take a swig of a fresh beer, he only answered with a shrug and his mouth pulled over to one side.

”Just sayin’ would’ve made a damn good scene.” He said, tilting your chin up with his ringed fingers to plant a soft kiss to your lips.

”You went into the wrong profession.” You joked awkwardly. Anakin often made comments like this during movies, sometimes you even added your own too, but it just felt so odd to hear him talk about Scream like that.

”Psycho killer?” He snorted, giving you a mischievous grin. 

“No!” You scoffed and smacked at his arm, that same blush returning to your cheeks. “No I meant movies and stuff.”

“Movies and stuff?” Anakin repeated, feigning thoughtfulness. “I’ve never considered going into the film industry. But I bet it would be fun, so long as you’re my final girl.”

”Aw how sweet.” You joked, feeling uncomfortable as a familiar jolt of guilt and curiosity ripped through your chest.

”What’s wrong baby?” He asked, brushing hair from your face and cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. “You got all tense on me.”

”Oh it’s nothing.” You shook your head, trying to force yourself to relax in his arms again. 

“You can tell me princess, did I upset you?” He asked, a worried expression forming on his face as his eyes scanned your features. Anakin was always so considerate of your feelings, times like now reminded you of how horrible you really were.

”It’s really nothin’ Ani, just me being me.” You sighed, at least that wasn’t a lie, you thought.

”I like it when you’re you.” He smiled, kissing the corners of your mouth to make them tip up into a tiny smile. “But I also like it when you tell me what’s on your mind.”

”Ani, really it’s no big deal.” You said, trying to keep the little smile you’d managed. “Just thinkin’ about… about the movie that’s all.”

”Ah.” Anakin nodded, looking back up at the screen and then back to you. “I get it.” He smirked.

”Get what? There’s nothing to get.” You huffed, getting defensive. You didn’t like how you were losing control of the situation.

”S’okay baby, I know.” He whispered, shifting your weight in his lap, scooting out from under you to hover over your smaller frame.

”What?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in a panicked concern.

”Mhm.” He nodded, his eyes locked on your lips as they twitched, desperate to form an excuse that just wouldn’t come out. “I know your little secret.”

”Wait, Anakin- I can explain.” You said, sitting up quickly as your heart raced in your chest. 

“No, its alright doll.” He shook his head, a firm hand on your wrist to keep you seated. “I understand. Luke explained everything.”

Luke? Luke sold you out. Luke has ruined your relationship, your life, your one chance at real love. It was devastating to realize your oldest and truest friend had turned on you. 

“No.” You stuttered, floundering helplessly as Anakin’s free hand reached behind his back. “No, Luke has no idea what he’s talking about Anakin, I-“

”Sweetheart, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” He said, frowning slightly. 

“Embarrassed? I- well,” You were so confused, why wasn’t he yelling? What was happening? Why did Luke betray you? “Why aren’t you angry at me?”

”Angry at you?” He asked, taken aback by your question. He sat back on his haunches and looked a little deflated. “Babydoll, I’m not angry at you. I would never be angry at you over a little crush.”

”A crush? It wasn’t! It was nothing I swear.” You said, holding up your hands that he gently took in one of his.

”C’mon, everyone has weird little crushes on movie characters.” Anakin said with a small amused smile, “It’s okay sweetheart. So, what if you think Ghostface is a little hot. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He teased, bringing your hands to his lips so he could gently kiss your knuckles. 

You stared at him in silent shock. He wasn’t talking about Ghost. He wasn’t about to tell you to get the fuck out and not come back. He was teasing you about a crush on a movie character. You almost gave yourself up, you almost ruined the relationship you’d went to Luke to fix. Although you felt awful for jumping to conclusions and assuming Luke had marched his ass over and told Anakin what you had done… You felt more betrayed that he had only shared your horror movie crush. 

He couldn’t have known that your movie crush was also your real-life side piece. He would’ve had no way of knowing that telling Anakin about something to trivial would send you into such an upset. But that’s beside the point. He’d told Anakin a secret of yours that was on the same high-security tier as Luke being in love with Dwayne from Lost boys, how he made you rewatch the carousel scene so many times just because someone grabbed at his ugly necklace.

”I was just thinking…. It’s October, we’re having a movie marathon, Walmart always has cheap props.” He shrugged, slowly bringing his arm from behind his back to show you a big rubber knife and a cheaply made Ghostface mask. 

The air turned stagnant around you, like everything in the room was waiting for your reaction. Even you. 

“What do you say princess?” He asked, his voice low and smooth as he slipped the mask over his head. “Wanna play a game?”

Diary Entry: October 3rd

I’ve given so much thought to how I would tell you about Ghost and I simply can’t decide on my approach. So in order to ensure that I’m on the right track i think it’ll be a good idea to do a bit of a trial run. Going back to my roots now with the pre-planning and lengthy thought process. Impulsivity is not my friend. 

So after a very interesting chat with your very best friend I know have an excuse as to how I know about your love for Scream. I won’t have to mention that I read it in your diary. I can blame it on Luke. Truly, so thankful for that guy in so many ways. He’s such a good friend to you and he’s certainly a good friend to me as well considering how he willingly offered up your dirty secret to me when I asked him his opinion of my Halloween costume ideas. 

“You wanna know what she’d really love? Be the guy from Scream. She’s got the hots for Ghostface.”

Yes indeed you do. 

October 4th continued.

”Anakin… are you sure?” You asked, unable to comprehend exactly what was happening. Anakin was offering to dress up as Ghost Ghostface? Why? 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He said, his voice muffled and so unlike the one you loved to hear when seeing this mask hovering over you.

”I-I don’t know,” You stuttered, the feeling in your gut churning on the brink of arousal and the precipice of nausea. “If you’re sure…”

”Don’t you trust me sweetheart?” He cooed, taking the rubber knife and running it along your forearm. “If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

”Of course I trust you, it’s just…” Your voice was shaky and uncertain as Anakin ground his bulge against you, nudging your thighs apart. Anakin was making it so difficult to say no, so difficult to do anything but give in like you wanted to. He may not be Ghost, he may not have his voice, but god did he have a dick that was just as good as his.

”There we go, atta girl.” He whispered, watching the hesitation in your expression fade into something more malleable. “Just let me make you feel good.”

You nodded, afraid to speak and say something you shouldn’t. His big hands tugging your pants down your thighs and peeling them off as quickly as he could, not bothering to remove your panties. His hands fumbled with his belt and jeans, finally releasing his throbbing cock. 

“Finally got out that new jewelry.” He said as he stroked himself, looking down at you through the eyes of the cheap plastic mask. “Think you’ll like it?” 

He twisted the silicone ball, turning on the gentle vibration. You watched as the new sensation made him shiver, goosebumps prickling at his toned, tattooed arms. Pulling aside your panties he guided his cockhead back and forth through your folds, making sure to pause over your clit and put pressure on the sensitive little nub.

”Mhm, I-I think I will.” You whispered, your breath hitching in your throat as he continued his teasing movements. He grasped the base of his cock firmly, notching the tip at your entrance to slowly rock his hips.

With a tortuously slow pace he pushed against your weeping pussy, only going far enough to tease you with his girth before easing up again. His calloused thumb making its way to flick over your clit, making you jolt and gasp. 

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He asked quietly, kneeling between your legs as he kept up his work. “Or am I just going to have to take what I want?”

The tip of the rubber knife lifted up the edge of your shirt, pushing it over the swell of your breasts, allowing him the view of your bra and the soft hills and valley of your chest. Anakin left the fake knife on your lower stomach as he slipped his fingers under the cup of your bra, gripping the soft flesh beneath as he gently kneaded it in his palm.

”Ani…” You whimpered, the added stimulation from the vibrations and his gentle but firm hand was clouding your mind. It felt good, but it was difficult to relax, it all felt so forced and not in the way that you enjoyed. “I-I don’t think-“

”So I’ll just have to take it then.” He growled, his voice gravely and rich as he pushed inside your cunt, feeling your walls contract around his thickness. The jewelry paired with the blunt tip of his cock made for an oddly satisfying experience as he hit your cervix when he bottomed out. Despite your hands on his chest in protest, your stomach tensed with pleasure.

”Anakin, please I-“ You started to object, to tell him this was all too strange, but he silenced you by pressing down on your lower stomach, feeling his cock bulging in your tummy. You squeaked, involuntarily clenching around him when you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. “B-but Anakin I-“

”Shh, c’mon babydoll.” He hushed you, moving his hand up your body until his palm rested over your throat, his fingers wrapping around to gently squeeze. “S’okay I know you want it.”

”No, no I-“ He squeezed harder, cutting off your air supply until your words crumbled in your throat. 

“Don’t lie to me.” He snapped, though you could tell he wasn’t actually mad, there was a hint of amusement tainting the harsh tone. “I know what you want, what you need.”

”Yeah… yes.” You nodded, biting your lip. This just kept getting worse and worse. You wanted to let go, to enjoy yourself. But the guilt of literally being face to face with your lies made it nearly impossible.

”I can see it in your eyes sweetheart.” He whispered as he thrusted deep and hard, taking his time to drag his cock out and ensure the vibrations rubbed over the sweet spot deep inside of you. “You need this, huh? You love it. Don’t you?”

”Uh huh.” You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed again as you sucked in a deep breath through your nose. 

“No way princess,” He chuckled, giving you a light tap to your cheek, not nearly hard enough to call it a smack. “Keep your eyes open for me. I like seeing how big those pupils get when you look at me.”

Not only did you have to worry about your mouth getting you into trouble, now you became hyper aware of every movement in your body. You couldn’t control your eyes or the way they reacted, but you could try your best to keep everything else in check. 

“Don’t be like that.” He teased, running his thumb across your jaw. “Just relax.”

”Ani, I can’t.” You whimpered, your hands coming up to cover your face as it flushed bright pink. 

“You can, you just won’t.” He retorted, ripping the mask off with a huff as he shook his head in frustration. “Turn around baby.” He breathed as he pulled out, smacking your hip to hurry you along.

On your hands and knees you positioned yourself for Anakin, thankful you wouldn’t have to look him in the face and thankful he’d taken off that stupid mask. He pushed back inside, this time he was hell bent on using you until you came, regardless of what you thought you wanted. His hips slamming against yours in a punishing pace, the wetness of your folds coating his length and dripping down his balls. 

“I was- was just trying to spice shit up a little.” He panted, spanking you with a loud *crack* to make you yelp. “Thought you’d like it? Liked it enough to tell Lukey all about it. Just not enough for me to make it happen for you?” 

“I’m sorry.” You whined, your cunt fluttering around his length from the sting left by his palm.

”You should be.” He grunted, one hand tangling in your hair to pull roughly, each strand tugging uncomfortably on your tender scalp. “I had a whole schtick worked out for you doll.”

”I… am.” You panted, your words coming out clipped. “Sorry, I’m really sorry.” 

“Was gonna take this stupid thing and hold it right here.” He grumbled, taking the rubber knife and pressing the blunt, pliable tip just under your jaw, if it were a real knife, one slip, one knick with too much pressure… 

“M’s-sorry.” You moaned, his grumpy comment holding a pinch of something else that made your insides flip.

“I know you are.” Anakin’s condescending tone meeting your ears with a sharp edge. “It’s alright darlin’, just need you to cum for me. That’ll make it all better won’t it?” 

“It’ll be all better.” You tried to nod but found that he was gripping your hair too tightly. The way he was fucking you so hard, so deep… no. No that’s not right, you can’t think of Ghost right now, that’s exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Yeah? Well let’s speed it up, huh?” He panted, reaching down to roll your clit between his finger and thumb, pulling and twisting it with a gentle but insistent pressure. “This… this fucking jewelry- I, fuck.” 

“Sh-shoulda bought some fuckin’ numbing cream or some shit, Jesus.” Anakin hissed through his teeth, feeling his balls drawing up tight as he fought off his orgasm, clenching his teeth so tightly that they squeaked. 

You braced yourself against the couch’s armrest with one hand, the other staying firmly planted on the cushion below you as you looked to the side, catching a glimpse of that stupid plastic mask, so unlike the one you’ve grown so used to seeing. It was all wrong, this was all wrong. 

You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t relax, you couldn’t push it all away and focus on the only thing worth paying attention to. Anakin was fucking you into oblivion, your body unable to fully enjoy the experience because your mind simply could not come to terms with the reality of your situation. 

Yes it felt good, so good. Yes you were on the brink of orgasm. Yes Anakin was talking you through it just how he loved to, always guiding you through your big, overwhelming orgasms. But this wasn’t big or overwhelming. If anything it was lackluster and flat, a moment of bliss followed by a horrible longing that tugged behind your bellybutton. Anakin’s cock slowing inside you as he pumped you full of his hot, sticky seed. 

He leaned forward to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades, the gesture feeling more intimate than the sex you’d just had. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held your back to his chest, allowing his cock to slip from your folds, leaking cum and slick down onto the couch below. Though he didn’t seem to care, he was more concerned with you getting back in his lap and covering you both up with a big fuzzy blanket. 

“I’m… I’m sorry that didn’t go well. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“No, no it’s okay. I was just overthinking it.” You said quietly, not wanting him to feel bad for something that was entirely your fault and completely outside his realm of knowledge.

“Still, that was unfair of me.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, kissing under your jaw and along the curve of your neck. “Won’t happen again baby I promise.”

“Well, Anakin, I don’t know about using the mask… or any mask. But… but the other stuff would be okay.” You offered, gesturing to the rubber knife and the cock ring he was currently removing. 

He wiped his hands off on his discarded shirt, placing the silicone jewelry on the coffee table before snuggling back up against you. He gave you a curious look, his mouth turned in a half smirk but his eyes spoke of something different.

“The knife?” He asked with a snicker, picking it up and bending the tip back to release it and watch as it wobbled back and forth. “You think that’s hot?” 

“Well no, that’s not…” You squeaked, scrambling to correct yourself.

“Good.” The word coming out in a low tone, sounding serious. “I do too.”

“Wait what?” You furrowed your eyebrows, your mouth parted slightly as you waited for him to repeat himself, needing to hear it again just to be certain.

“You heard me.” He raised an eyebrow, his lip curving up in a cheeky smile.

“That- its kind of dangerous don’t you think?” You said quickly, immediately regretting your poor decision to dig further into this conversation.

“Not if we don’t use a real knife. Don’t be silly.” He snorted, patting your thigh before stroking it with light fingertips. “We can try that another time, or not at all. But there’s no reason to stress now, let’s just have a quiet evening like we planned.” He said softly.

“Okay,” You nodded, accepting his words for what they were. It’s not that you didn’t trust Anakin with a real knife, you just weren’t certain that anyone could wield one as expertly as Ghost. “that sounds like a plan.”

He hummed in agreement, savoring the feel of your warm flesh against his. He held you, pet you, kissed you and loved on you until the previous encounter was nearly forgotten, save for the pit in your stomach that screamed out for your attention. 

The movie was picking up speed, getting to the more important and more interesting moments where the Ghostface duo was picking off cast members at Stu’s house. Anakin sat back and propped his feet up, stifling a light laugh as Tatum was lifted into the air via the garage door. He made a crunching sound to mimic the noise of her neck cracking under the pressure of the doorframe and the garage door mechanism, poking you in the side to make you giggle with him.

”I always thought this bit was so fucking funny.” Anakin snorted, gesturing to the TV where Ghostface has just slit Kenny’s throat and is patiently waiting for Sidney’s reaction, not attempting to immediately attack her when he had the advantage of her shocked state. “And like, dude really? Trying to crawl out the van after her like that? The back is open, just walk around.”

”He was probably trying to pull her back inside.” You shrugged, glancing over at him.

“Should've just walked around.” He mumbled, making a circle motion with his pointer finger. 

Diary Entry: October 4th

I’m really confused by your reaction to tonight’s activities, I wasn’t expecting that at all. I thought you’d be thrilled, seeing ‘Ghost’ after going so long without hearing from him. I thought you’d let loose and enjoy yourself, I thought maybe you would let yourself be a little more kinky with me. 

You’ve always saved that for Ghost and I know you’ll be completely unsatisfied with our sex life if we don’t incorporate that into our bedroom. If Ghost isn’t going to be around anymore then you’ll just have to share that part of yourself with me. I was trying to show you that, trying to show you that I can do what you need, what you want and crave. I’ve been giving it to you for how long now? Just let me do it this way alright?

Now, let me rant for a minute because I’m still a little upset that you turned off your phone when you went to Luke's, that’s the whole reason I had a chat with him the other day in the first place but the guy had his lips locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Like I’m glad he’s such a good friend to you but damn that is real inconvenient for me. I wanna know what you felt was too sensitive to share with me. 

Are you just being petty? 

Date: October 10th

”Anakin no, that’s hideous.” You giggled, covering your mouth as you grabbed the packaged costume from his hands and shoved it back on the shelf.

”What do you mean?” He grinned, his hands squeezing your hips from behind as you flipped through the rack in front of you. “You’d look smokin’ as a sexy little Dalmatian. I’ll be your big strong fireman.”

”As much as I would love to see you in a fireman’s uniform, I’ll have to pass.” You squeaked as his nipped your neck and let his hand run over your ass when he continued on past you to continue looking for costumes. 

“Your loss babydoll.” He clicked his tongue, glancing over at you as you pulled a skimpy fairy costume from the rack.

”No ma’am.” He scoffed, taking it from you and putting it back, “That’s a single girl get-up. You can’t go out like that.”

”Oh c’mon I was just lookin’.” You rolled your eyes and patted his cheek with a little smirk, it was nice having someone like Anakin be so protective for the right reasons. 

“Should we do something like as a couple?” You asked, looking at the back wall where a large collection of duo costumes were on display.

”I don’t know darlin’… wouldn’t make much sense for half a sandwich to be behind the bar and the other half roamin’ around with dumb and dumber.” He flashed you a grin, nodding toward the other side of the room where Luke and Han were piling on an unnecessary amount of ugly costume accessories just for shits and giggles.

”Oh my god, we are never getting out of here if they don’t start actually looking!” You said, progressively getting louder until Luke’s head turned on a swivel and his face revealed a startled ‘oops’ expression.

”Why do you think we drove separate?” He snickered, squeezing the back of your neck affectionately. 

“You’re awful.” You snorted, pulling him along to another rack of costumes.

”Let’s just do these.” He said, plucking two of the thick plastic bags from the rack, flipping them around to show you the old timely baseball uniforms. 

“I’ve never played baseball a day in my life.” You giggled, taking it from him and glancing over the items listed inside. A dress, long socks, a belt, and a baseball cap. 

“I played at camp.” Anakin said, toying with his lip ring using the tip of his tongue. “For like three games.”

”Really?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “What happened?”

”Summer before middle school, Mom wanted to go on a girls trip so she shipped me off for a week. It was pretty fun actually.” Anakin said, taking the package back from you and laying it over his arm. “I was good at it too, just… just swung my bat a little too hard and a camp counselor ended up with a chipped tooth.” He winced.

”Did it go flying out of your hands?” You asked, eyes wide as you tried to hold back a laugh. “Happened to me when I used to help Lauren practice for tennis.”

”Mmm, yeah somethin’ like that.” He snorted, pulling you into his side to plant a kiss to your forehead. “So this is what we’re going with?” He asked.

”Yeah, i think those will be fine.” You hummed, walking beside him. “We’ll be matching but we won’t have to be standing right next to each other for it to make sense.”

”Good girl.” He nodded, his hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“I can’t believe girls wore dresses to play baseball.” You commented, tapping the plastic bag.

”Why?” Anakin asked, guiding you up to the register and tossing the two packages down on the counter for the woman at the register to ring up. “Girls used to only wear dresses. Why wouldn’t they wear ‘em to play ball in too?” 

“Cause what if they flipped up and flashed everyone?” You laughed.

”That’s why they wore spanx you goof.” He snorted, handing over his debit card to pay for the costumes.

“I don’t think spanx was a thing back then.” You shook your head with a little frown.

”Well then I guess they just wore their ugliest granny bloomers and hoped no one looked.” He grinned at you, taking the bag from the cashier and pocketing his wallet. 

You shook your head at him, dragging him along by his shirt sleeve as you walked past the counter and through the store. You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to Luke to let him know you were leaving the Halloween store and going to roam about the rest of the mall before meeting up again for lunch together. After a minute or two your phone buzzed while you were waiting loyally by Anakin’s side as he filtered through posters, records and cd’s. 

“Oh god.” You gasped, looking down at your phone as you burst into laughter. “Oh my god, the only costume big enough for Han is a ketchup bottle.” 

“What?” Anakin spun around, looking at you as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

”Look.” You giggled, showing him the picture of a very unamused Han in a giant ketchup bottle and a much shorter, giggly looking Luke in a hot dog costume.

”No fuckin’ way.” Anakin laughed, zooming in on Luke’s costume. “Dude gross, his hot dog has relish on it.” 

“No, it’s gross they went to the changing room and tried the stuff on.” You shivered, remembering how you’d peeked your head in earlier to see the trash and discarded costumes that hadn’t fit other customers.

”Have you seen the size of that guy? He can’t not go to the dressing room.” Anakin retorted, shaking his head in amusement. 

“No shit.” Snorting as you thumbed through a very thick stack of discount records with damaged sleeves. “Hey, do you have this one?” You asked, holding up a brand new record of the Pain Remains trilogy by Lorna Shore, the only blemish you could see was a long straight line down the back of the sleeve, presumably from a box cutter when the workers were unboxing the shipment.

“Oooh no ma’am I do not,” He grinned, plucking it from your hand and inspecting it to make sure the record inside was still intact. “Oh I just love you, I’ve been looking for this one.” He squeaked, tossing his arms around you from behind and kissing the nape of your neck. 

“You know, you could just order th-“

”Mmm, no. Stop right there.” He silenced you with a finger to your lips, his breath hitting the back of your neck. “I will never order a record **or CD. That takes all the fun out of my little treasure hunt.”

“Treasure hunt?” A smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you tilted your head to kiss his cheek while you clumsily walked as he shuffled along behind you, not letting you out of his embrace. 

“Yeah, that’s the best way to collect stuff.” Anakin nodded seriously. “It’s no fun if you don’t have to work for it.”

You laughed, not understanding the appeal of having to wait for something you desperately want, when you could order it and have it in your hands the very next day. Whereas Anakin could have to wait weeks, maybe months to find the one thing he was searching for. 

“Don’t knock it til you try it.” Anakin said, nipping your shoulder as he finally released you to jog down the aisle in front of you with a giddy laugh, skipping for the last few steps to the back wall. Doing his very best extra exaggerated Vanna White impression as he gestured to a CD before picking it up excitedly.

”See?” He jumped in place, tapping the case rapidly with one finger. “It’s the very last one! That makes it even better, knowing I’m now the proud owner of the last new Angelmaker album.” His mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “At least until they restock.” He added with a shrug.

”I’ll admit it’s very cute to see you get so happy over some plastic.” You teased.

“Did you hear that? She thinks I’m cute.” He whispered shouted from behind his hand at what you assumed was an imaginary person until they appeared near Anakin. A random guy around your age, with an extremely thick septum ring, appraised your appearance.

”I think she’s cute.” He stated very boldy as he flashed you a bright smile and stuck out his hand toward you. 

“Seriously?” Anakin huffed, flicking the guy on the forehead. “That’s my girlfriend you little shit.”

”Oh, oops.” The guy turned beet red with embarrassment and profusely apologized. “I had no idea, I just assumed…”

”Yeah, yeah.” Anakin grumbled, possessively putting his arm around your shoulder, grabbing your face to very sloppily kiss you in front of the guy. Making it very clear that he was enjoying every second of it while he tongue fucked your mouth. 

“Anyway.” He sighed, pulling back from the kiss to show off his devilish grin, complete with his dimples on display, obviously very pleased with himself not only for his display but also for the way you responded to it with buckling knees and immediate submission. 

“Ring these up will you Ferdinand?” He glared, shoving the record and CD into the guy’s hands, only then did you notice he was wearing a name tag and a lanyard with a set of keys attached, marking him as an employee at the store.

”I hate it when you call me that.” He grunted, taking a step back from the force that Anakin used to thrust the items at him. 

“I hate it when you hit on my girlfriend.” Anakin retorted in a mocking tone, muttering something under his breath as he watched him walk toward the register.

”You know him?” You asked awkwardly. 

“Used to think he was pretty alright. Name’s Eric, I talk to him just about every time I’m in here.” He said, glaring over at him as you both slowly gravitated toward the front of the store. The look in his eyes bringing a chill to your flesh, that look you hated, the one so icy cold you’d swear it could freeze over hell. As always, the moment he blinked, it was gone. The warmth returned to his sea-blue eyes.

”It’s alright though, he didn’t know. He’s a hopeless flirt anyway.” Anakin chuckled, patting your ass as he pulled out his wallet, his pants chain jangling as he dug around in his deep pockets. “The guy’s type is ‘anyone who will pay attention’.” 

“Well that’s just sad.” You snickered under your breath, quieting yourself when you reached the register. 

“I know.” Anakin smirked. “Isn’t it? A real shame huh?” He prompted Eric without giving him context. 

He looked up from the magazine he had laid out in front of him, sliding a paper bag across the counter in exchange for Anakin’s cash. It struck you as odd considering how he’d used his debit card at the last store. But you didn’t think too hard on it, you were too busy trying not to laugh when Eric blindly agreed with Anakin.

”Huh? Oh yeah, I know right?” He nodded nonchalantly, in that all too common way that retail workers do when they weren’t listening to a lick of what was happening around them, continuing to fish change out of the cash drawer. 

“Thanks man.” Anakin grunted, taking the cash and stuffing it messily into his wallet. While he was distracted with that, Eric handed you the receipt. You accepted it without a second game and tucked it in your back pocket. Ready to leave, Anakin looped his thumb through the back belt loop of your pants and steered you to the door. 

“Luke and Han are going to BoxLunch,” You said, stooping down to pick up the receipt that fell from your pocket when you checked your phone. “They want us to meet them there, then we can go to Charley’s for lunch.” 

You handed the crumpled receipt to Anakin as you spoke, continuing to walk after shoving your phone back in your pocket. Suddenly you felt Anakin’s hand fall away from it’s comforting resting place, turning your head to the side to see what was the matter. You saw Anakin standing still, his phone in his hand, furiously typing as he held the receipt. 

“Ani?” You asked, reaching out for his elbow to prompt him to follow you. 

“Just a sec.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowed as he tongued his labret. “Sorry darlin’, all good to go. BoxLunch?” He asked, slipping his hand into your back pocket as he walked beside you in the direction of the shop. 

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded, giving him a second glance that he must’ve picked up on because he gave you a ‘hmm?’ in response. “What was that?”

“What? Oh, I just needed to scan that receipt for the shop rewards or whatever.” He shrugged, his free hand coming up to scratch the side of his nose. “Had to do it before I forgot, gives me discounts n’ all that.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize.” You said, leaning into him. “ Well I'm glad I didn’t toss it.” You chuckled, hearing him let out a humored puff of air. 

“Me too,” he whispered, turning to press a soft kiss to your temple. “I would’ve hated to miss out on this week’s perk.” 

“Oh?” You smirked, hearing the sarcasm in his words oozing out. 

“Mhm,” pairing a short nod with a snicker, “shit’s killer.”

Diary Entry: October 11th

You know what I can’t fucking stand? Misjudging someone. I hate being wrong, especially when it comes to a person’s character. I’ve spent so long, so many hours watching, researching and practicing mannerisms and expressions. I’m practically an expert. 

Or I thought I was an expert. Dead fucking wrong about Eric though. I even gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe it was truly just an accident. He seemed apologetic enough, but I regret not being able to see his face when he expressed his ‘apologies’. 

I hadn’t ever looked into Eric before, I felt no reason to, he has always just been the hollow, depthless NPC type of person in my eyes. He didn’t exist outside of that record store, kind of like how when you’re a kid and you see your teacher out in public and you’re like ‘Oh my god? That's a real person with a life outside of the classroom?’. 

Yeah, Eric was that. Until he used his grubby little hands to scrawl out his mother fucking phone number on my goddamn receipt and hand it to my fucking girlfriend. You were too stupid to even notice! Once again I’m asking myself how the hell did you survive this long without me around to protect you? He could’ve handed you a giant manilla envelope labeled ‘ANTHRAX’ in bright, bold letters and you’d have just bobbed your ditzy little head and tucked it under your arm. 

It’s not your fault, don’t think i’m mad at you. I’m not, I’m just frustrated because Ghost has taught you better than that. I have taught you better than that. You should know to be more aware of your surroundings. But then again, that’s my fault too isn’t it?

While I’ve taught you that valuable lesson, I’ve also gone right ahead and deconstructed it for you too. 

Because I love you. I care about you and I will always and forever do everything in my power to make sure you are as healthy and safe as humanly achievable. And because you are well aware of that fact, you become a small, frail, pocket mouse when I’m around. You know good and damn well that you don’t have to pay attention to a thing when I’m with you. You’re safely tucked in my pocket. 

Both Ghost and I have made it so fucking easy for you to be at peace, while I’m so glad you feel so secure in my presence (and in my absence as we both know, Ghost is always there in some capacity) its also mildly irritating that you rely on me and my observation skills so much that you missed the red ink on the nearly translucent receipt. Like, come on baby. It was in your hand.

You’re so lucky. So lucky that I love you more than life itself. I’m so lucky to love you that much. Although it’s proven to be a right fuckin’ mess on the rare occasion, it’s all worth it. You’re worth it. 

How many girls can say that their man would kill for them and mean it? 

I’m back on my meds and feeling so much better, the busy little office guys in my head have reorganized all those filing cabinets. Not to brag, but I think they’ve really outdone themselves this time, I feel so put together. I think they may have even upgraded to a nice conveyor belt to avoid lugging all the unwanted files to The Pit. Isn’t that neat? 

Or maybe I’m just more comfortable with myself now. After all, you do love me. Both of me. If I have the love of my very own goddess, why shouldn’t I accept more of myself? Even the undesirable bits. A dash of unconventionality is healthy. Everything is healthy in moderation.

It’s most definitely the latter, but it’s fun to think that those little office guys are putting in overtime, maybe even the janitor too. 

I think I need a bit of fun, one last yeehaw before I finish this shit, you know? I thought maybe that I'd be done after those frat assholes. But it just wasn’t satisfying. Not like with the delivery guy. He was fun, those frat bros just made shit difficult and sucked the fun out of what was supposed to be a nice night with you and I'll never get over it. I still feel bad about it occasionally, poor girl. But, I'm just rambling so I’ll shut up about them. 

So, like I said, one more. Last time, I promise. Then it’ll just be me and you alright? I swear. I’ll bury Ghost with this, I’ll combine the best bits of me and him and get rid of the rest. Taking out the trash as I take out some trash. 

—------------------------

Diary Entry: cont.

I cannot believe how shit the security at the mall is. That Paul Blart looking ass doesn’t even have a taser or anyone else to help him. It took me three minutes to make my way into the security office, checkout camera feeds and video the entire room to look over again later, then get out and back to you before you even realized I wasn’t in that Lunchbox place. By the way, that’s my new favorite things and stuff store. Back to business, there’s only one working CCTV camera in the record store and it doesn’t stream a live video, it takes pictures every thirty seconds and my phone is now set to alert me of that (for later I have it silenced for now). 

I have the whole store memorized by now anyway so I don’t have to worry about that. Plus I know that Eric never fucking locks the back entrance, all i have to worry about on that matter is that the CCTV outside actually does work and streams a live video. But I’ve got a plan, not to worry.  

Date: October 12th

“You gonna come over when you get off?” Anakin asked, dropping you off at The Bluebird. “I can come pick you up, I really don’t like it when you walk home in the dark sweetheart. Makes me nervous.”

“Why don’t we go to my place after?” Eyes flicking up to look at his furrowed eyebrows. “Boogs gets sad when I don’t stay home.”

“Alright, I can do that baby.” He nodded with a soft smile. “Maybe I can go sit with her while you’re workin’.” He offered with a shrug.

“Oh, yeah I’m sure she’d love that. Just… The kitchen is a mess right now so-”

“Don’t fret, I’ll get it.” He cut you off with a chuckle, walking with you up to the doors of the restaurant. 

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head, turning to face him with a hand on his chest. “I’ll get it when I come home.”

“It’ll be late and I’ll be there with nothin’ to do.” Anakin insisted, giving you a raised eyebrow as if to say he would do it regardless of your wishes.

“I’ve made a big wreck of the kitchen. I- the dishes have all piled up so quick.” You said, shaking your head again with a slight frown. “I’ll do ‘em.”

“Hush, I’ll do it-” Anakin started, seeing you open your mouth to interrupt him he paused and curled up the corner of his mouth disapprovingly. “Thank you, that’s much better.” He chuckled, leaning against the side of the building when you sighed, admitting defeat and letting him take over the chore that had suddenly become so daunting. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled, smiling slightly even as you did. 

“Good girl, that’s more like it.” He grinned, pulling you into his chest for a tight squeeze. “I’ll take care of all the scary dishes, don’t worry.” He teased.

“Doing the dishes is just so gross.” You complained, “I was doing so good at keeping it picked up, I guess it just got out of hand. I hate touching food bits.”

“Got out of hand, hmm?” He snickered, kissing the top of your head. “No big deal, I’ll reign it in for you. Maybe get all the dust and cat hair while I’m at it.” 

“Hey!” You huffed, trying to pull back so you could chide him to his face, but he kept you held against him as his chest rumbled with a laugh. “Not my fault, I just don’t vacuum as much as… well I just need to clean more I guess.” You sighed, not realizing how much you’d fallen behind until having this conversation. 

Ghost had been keeping things tidy for so long and now that he’d stopped it was as if you had completely forgotten how to take care of the place on your own. You’d gotten used to only being tasked with your laundry and the occasional few dishes. Only vacuuming once a week and mopping even less. It was astonishing really, seeing how quickly your daily life had begun to unravel without him.

You were honestly shocked that Anakin hadn’t keeled over last time he was at your apartment, you’d been staying over at his rather than yours. Even on nights that he worked. You didn’t like being alone in your own home anymore, it felt all wrong, uncomfortable. Unsafe. There wasn’t someone watching over you every hour of every day anymore and it left you feeling vulnerable. Yeah of course he still looked out for you, you knew that. You knew he had audio access to your phone, but it wasn’t the same, it felt so… impersonal.

You didn’t catch the smirk on Anakin’s lips while you spoke, too caught up in your own thoughts. He was enjoying seeing you realize how much you’d come to rely on Ghost. He was happy to step in and take over that role as himself, he had always helped out, just not to the extent that Ghost did.  

“Vigo has been eyeing you ever since we came up to the door.” Anakin tipped his head toward the kitchen where you could see Vigo peeking around the corner. “If you don’t get in there soon he might blow a gasket.” He snickered.

“He’ll be just fine.” You snorted, leaning in close to plant a sweet kiss to his cheek, he turned his head to give you his other cheek for the same. “I love you.” 

“God, you don’t know how good it feels to hear that from those pretty lips,” He sighed, beaming brightly at you as he brought you closer. “Give ‘em to me.” He teased, giving you a soft and tender kiss, his hand tucking you hair behind your ear as he did. 

“I love you too darlin’.” He hummed against your lips, releasing you with a little swat to your ass to get you moving toward the main entrance. He watched through the window to ensure you made it back to the kitchen to clock-in before he pushed off the wall and strolled back over to his car.

—------------------------------------------

October 12th 5:54pm

Anakin had the perfect amount of time to enact his plan. Thanks to his newly revisited obsession with pre-planning and prepping for his actions, he’d devised a fool proof way to make his entrance and exit into the mall nearly undetectable. He’d even solidified the perfect way to get a concrete alibi, complete with photo evidence and time stamps.

He was on camera at 5:27pm in front of The Bluebird, having a cutesy goodbye with his sweet, innocent girlfriend. He drove the regular route back to the apartments, stopping at the gas station for cigarettes and gum, paying with his card and making sure to store his receipt in his wallet, then he continued home. He rarely used the sidewalk beside the parking lot, usually opting to weave through the parked cars until he reached the front doors, though this time he seized the opportunity to be seen on camera again. The lamppost outside the parking lot, which had been recently updated to included CCTV picture, would snap a photo of him doing his duty as a civilian to pick up a stray piece of trash that a no-good litterbug had dropped and tossed it in the trashcan near the lamppost.

He’d been so careful in the past and it had always worked out for the best, so he was more careful this time, taking mental note of the back roads to the mall, luckily it wasn’t too far, he could walk there and stay relatively out of sight. Win-win kind of situation in his opinion. So Anakin made his way up to his apartment instead of yours and quickly got changed into his self imposed criminal activity uniform. All black everything. The same clothes he used to play Ghost, sans mask of course. He can’t go traipsing about the city in the afternoon like that, he’d be spotted within seconds. 

Anakin stood in the bathroom, taking out all of his facial piercings, as well as removing his gauges and other earrings. He planned to leave his phone in your apartment along with the Tv playing something on Netflix, should it come down to anything serious and he might need to prove himself. That gives him 90 minutes before Netflix gives the ‘Still Watching?’ notification, hopefully, plenty of time to do what he needed to and return. If not he had around 30 minutes before the Tv shut itself off because the remote hadn’t been touched. It’s easy enough to say he fell asleep, the poor guy is a bartender, he takes a little nap whenever he can. Working nights is rough stuff. 

He’ll have his alibi back on track when he goes to pick you up after all, he’ll even drive through your favorite take-out place and make sure to pay with his card. He can prove his whereabouts and take care of his hungry girl at the same time. 

After grabbing his bag, he set up your apartment as it should be, returning to his quickly to hurry on with his plan. Anakin slipped out his living room window and left down the fire escape, making the trek on foot to the mall via his pre-ran route. Keeping his head down, his empty phone case in his hand to appear busy as he passed a few people on the sidewalk. Making a speedy right turn into the alley between two office buildings, jay-walking across the street when he came out the other side. 

He kept an eye on his watch, making sure he was well within the timeframe he’d given himself. Finally arriving at the mall he swung wide, staying out of the 100 foot radius of the high-positioned CCTV cameras outside the mall, perched atop the corners of the buildings. They were pointed to conjoin and overlap in the middle of the back parking lot. Unfortunately that made his life a little harder and he had to do a little more math.

His research and his calculator proved pertinent in his carefully determined path to the staff entrance of Revival Records. Providing him an almost eight foot wide straight line of a blind spot if he were to come in toward the middle of the building’s left side, exactly what he was doing at that very moment. Tucking himself against the brick wall, he made his way through the blind pathway beneath the cameras along the side and back of the building. Skipping one, two, three, and stopping at the fourth, thick metal door. 

He took a deep, calming breath as he pulled up his hood. Then tied his bandana securely around his face, tugging it until it sat just beneath his eyes. Anakin checked his hoodie pocket, taking his knife from it and placing it beneath his bandana, biting down on the silicone covered handles so he could easily use both his hands, then pulled the can of black spray paint from the side pocket meant for water bottles on his bag.

Prepared and mostly confident in his ability to spray the camera lens positioned next to the door that had a perfect view down the service hall without looking, he tugged on the door handle, a sense of relief washing over him when it turned and opened easily. 

Shoving his arm in through the cracked door he angled the can upwards, pressing down on the nozzle and smiling when he heard the aerosol can hiss. He covered his eyes and peeked through his hands, not wanting to look directly into the camera–-cameras if he’d missed it completely. Thankfully he checked and saw that there were two, side by side and pointed in opposite directions.

He huffed and sprayed the left corner lens to make sure it was covered as well, only part of the lens was obscured from his original paint job. After surveying the hall and determining the other cameras in the hall would be pretty much useless considering they were so far away, and angled straight down the hall. He figured there was a reason they had the double camera in the middle of the hall like that, the other two must not reach that far.

He crossed the hall in one long step, carefully and quietly opening the second door in front of him. This one would lead directly into the storage room, which housed the very tiny office and staff bathroom as well. The sound of Bolt Thrower filled the space, playing as background noise while his target cleaned and closed up shop for the night. 

Anakin could do this quick and easy if he wanted. The breaker box was right there on the wall, just within reach. It’d be easy enough to pop it open and flip off all the lights to lure him right where he needed him. A nice clean slice of his throat from behind… But that was too easy. If this was to be his very last, he wanted it to be his very best. 

So instead, he grabbed the key ring off the hook beside the office door, flipping through them and inspecting the labels. He turned and flicked the lock closed on the hall door. Entering the office he looked over the various items. His eyes pausing over the computer screen where he could see the employee registry, shipment details… he could just stay right there and wreck Eric’s life just by using this information. He could tap into his boss’s social security account, steal the banking information from whoever the hell Amanda was, then slip right back out. No one would know or even suspect him. It’d be the stupid little toad he’d come to visit who’d get shipped off to federal prison. 

He licked his lips, shaking his head with a scoff. Returning to his plan, he went ahead and pulled the phone jack from the wall and disconnected the emergency button that would notify security if pushed. Then, he found the right key to lock the office door, just as a precaution. Maybe Eric would be slimy enough to slip through his fingers, but he was really only doing it for peace of mind, checking off his mental to-do list. He knew he didn’t have a damn thing to worry about.

He moved carefully to avoid the boxes and various crap laying about the floor, silently thinking of the monstrous lawsuit that waited for Revival Records if their next hire slips and breaks their back on some of that slick packaging plastic. He shook his head, reminding himself to focus because this needed to be perfect, so perfect. Near impossibly perfect for it to work. As he reached the inner door, his final one before facing his acquaintance turned enemy, he cracked it open and peeked inside, watching Eric close the cage and lock it down at the front of the store. 

Anakin’s ‘ugly’ analog watch was coming in handy as it ticked rhythmically, every thirty seconds. It took a few tries but he finally synced it perfectly with the pattern of the store camera’s timed pictures. He’d clicked those two tiny knobs so many times that he’d considered going out to the store just to buy a new watch just for this, but his old one had never failed him before. Cliegg always said something about ‘never changing your technique’ before a big game when Anakin had briefly entertained his stepdad’s wish for him to join the delinquent school’s baseball team after he’d enjoyed it during summer camp. 

This might not be baseball, but it required a refined technique, so he assumed the sentiment translated. 

He crouched, watching Eric saunter back and forth through the store, reorganizing the shelves and doing some very poor cleaning. Not only was he protecting you, he was keeping disease off the streets as far as he was concerned. After a few more agonizing minutes of watching him play janitor, finally he made his way behind the counter. Time for him to count the cash drawer, time for Anakin to make his move. 

Hugging the wall, Anakin moved slowly, keeping low to the ground, pulling out his butterfly knife and flicking it open loudly, the handles clanking together as he spun it in his hand. Eric whipped his head around, not seeing anything, he assumed it was just the store settling, maybe one of the employees from the neighboring stores making a bit of noise.

Anakin rose from behind one of the displays, keeping in line with the very edge of the shelving unit that stored all the newest releases. He would be out of sight from the camera and close enough to the counter to properly intimidate Eric. The store was very poorly planned out, save from that one unit. It made sense to keep the new releases near the register to deter theft. 

Just a shame for them that Anakin was using the layout for something far worse than simple theft. 

Using his knife blade, he tapped the shelf beside him, making a sharp metallic *ping ping ping*, that caught Eric’s attention. He turned his music down, as if he were trying to hear it more clearly. So Anakin repeated the motion, grinning behind his bandana as Eric started to slowly turn around. 

“Stay.” His voice stern and commanding. “Don’t turn around.”

“I’ll call the cops.” Eric said, trying to fight his curiosity to peek over his shoulder, lifting his hands slowly.

“Put your hands down. Keep doing your job.” Anakin said harshly, his tone cold. “I won’t hurt you. I just want you to listen to me. Very carefully.”

“Y’know there’s a Zales just a few doors down. Y-you’ll get better shit there man.” Eric said shakily, returning to his calculator and recording receipts. 

“You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to rob a record shop if I was only after money, do you?” Anakin snarked. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“If you don’t want money, what do you want?” Eric squeaked, wetting his lips nervously. 

“I want you to take a little break. Have a seat.” Anakin said, leaning against the shelving unit and crossing his arms over his chest.

He watched as Eric blindly reached behind him and pulled the stool up. Sitting slowly like he was worried it might be some sort of trap. It was. Eric got out the key from the drawer beneath the counter, unlocking the register and rapidly tapping the emergency button hidden just under the lip of the formica tabletop. Nothing happened, no red light flashed beneath his fingers and no beep was heard. 

“Too bad.” Anakin sucked his teeth. “I bet Paul Blart could’ve used the exercise.” *Tick*

“Feet up on the rest there buddy.” Anakin shrugged off his backpack and grabbed a package of saran wrap and a roll of duct tape. Unrolling and ripping off a good size of saran wrap, he waited. 

*Tick*. He stepped forward and wrapped the plastic around his lower legs and feet. Anakin stayed kneeling, his leather gloves sticking to the adhesive as he picked at the tail end of it, the *Scrrriipt* of him pulling out a nice length of tape made Eric wince.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, Anakin could practically smell the fear coming off him and it made him feel… annoyed. 

“Introducing you to my second favorite hobby.” Anakin sneered back, before duct-taping his feet and legs to the stool, over the saran wrap.

“Take off your jacket.” Anakin demanded, staying crouched down as Eric awkwardly unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the counter. *Tick*. “Hands on the counter.” 

“Listen, I can help you out.” Eric pleaded, laying his hands flat on the counter. Anakin rolled his eyes as he saran wrapped and taped his wrists together, shoving them into Eric’s lap. If only he had a dollar for every time someone tried to use this trick on him he would have enough to buy you a Venti Cold Brew from Starbies on his way back home.

“All I need you to do, is shut the fuck up and be still.” Anakin grunted, pulling out another long length of tape and a roll of garbage bags from his backpack, *Tick*, he secured the plastic to the floor, wrapping the chair legs in saran wrap, as well as Eric’s thighs, then waited for another *Tick*. 

“Who are you?” Eric asked, attempting to look down but Anakin’s hand shot up and smacked him for interrupting his task of taping his arms to his torso. “Ow! Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t recognize me?” He asked, faking a pouty voice. “C’mon you know me Ferdinand. Thought we were pals.”

“Fer-Ferdinand? Anakin?” He gasped, *Tick*.

“Can you just sit still please? Be quiet.” Anakin huffed, jabbing him in the side with a fist.

“What the hell are you doing man? What the fuck?” Eric squeaked, suddenly even more freaked out now that he knew his attacker. 

“I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt Ferdie.” Anakin sighed, grabbing some brand new, dollar store microfiber towels and setting them on the ground, *Tick*, Anakin reached for his bag again when Eric turned and yanked at his hood. 

“Touch me again. I’ll cut off your hand and shove it up your ass.” He growled, springing up into a standing position and fixing his hood. Anakin took a calming breath and shoved one of the microfiber towels into Eric’s mouth before crouching down again. *Tick*.

Anakin moved a few random items on the counter and shifted Eric in the chair, then returned to kneeling as he cut strips off one of the microfiber towels, slicing them up smaller and wadding them up. *Tick*. 

“Quit fuckin’ around. You’re making this difficult.” Anakin grumbled, rising up to grab his large septum ring and hold him steady so he could stick those microfiber wads in his nostrils, dropping to the ground again for the next *Tick*. 

He rose again slowly and stood in front of the mostly helpless man, anchoring the chair in place with his foot on one of the rungs, he reared back and punched Eric square in the face, then dropped to the ground, holding his wrists down so he couldn’t try to instinctively bring them up to his face. *Tick*. 

“Man, that’s my favorite way to make sure no one can hear a pig like you squeal.” Anakin smiled.

As Eric groaned, Anakin’s grin grew, enjoying the fact that his gag was effective. Although he was unsure if he’d actually punched him hard enough to break his nose, so after the next *Tick* he did it again, snickering when he heard and felt the cartilage crunch. Eric tried to suck in a breath, his eyes welling up with tears from the pain as the microfiber towels soaked up the blood that spurted from his nose. Only a trickle or two escaped down his lip, no problem, Anakin didn’t care, he’d clean it up. 

“So, you’re probably wondering why I’m doing this.” Anakin sighed, sitting crosslegged in front of the stool, staring up at the man before him. “I love a good villain speech. But you’re no hero and I didn’t plan on letting you trample around the room while I beat you to a pulp, so I didn’t prepare one.” 

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just give you the short and sweet.” Anakin tilted his head to the side, excitement flashing across his eyes as he pulled the bandana down to bare his beaming smile to Eric. “Well?” He prompted, smacking his leg and getting a nod in agreement along with panicked eyes. “Good, long and detailed it is.” He chuckled.

“I love my girlfriend, she is just… man I almost feel bad for you. You’ll never experience a love so pure.” Anakin said, feigning wistfulness. “Not that you’d be lucky enough to coerce a girl into loving you anyway, even if I did let you live.” He shrugged, laughing to himself.

 

“Nope, you’re shit when it comes to that aren’t you?” He smiled. “So shit that you decided to give my girlfriend your phone number, on the receipt for items that I paid for, after I so graciously gave you a bit of leeway for your ‘Oopsie I didn’t know she was yours’ flirt.” Anakin’s face dropped, the smile wiped from his expression. 

“I’ve killed for less.” Anakin said flatly. 

“You’re gonna be my last.” Anakin said, curving up the corner of his mouth but leaving the rest of his face unsettlingly expressionless. “So take pride in knowing that you will be my best work.”

“The police around here are shit.” Anakin shrugged, “They’ll be trying to figure this out for years.” Anakin grinned, *Tick*.

Anakin hummed along to the music still playing quietly through the speakers while he moved Eric’s chair to make him face the wall with his back to the camera and moved the mouse on  the computer to prove Eric was still ‘active’. Then remembered he needed to move a few things on the counter again after the *Tick*. 

“Remember when I said this was my second favorite hobby?” Anakin asked, not expecting an answer. “My favorite is fucking my beautiful girl.”

“Something you will never, ever have the privilege of thinking about doing again.” Anakin sneered. “The way you looked at her made my skin crawl. You’re creepy, you know that? That’s why you’re alone.”

“I could see it in those shifty, beady eyes of yours Ferdie. You were thinking of all the ways you’d like to get her beneath you.” Anakin’s face grew red, the vein in his forehead beginning to thump against his skull. 

“Disgusting.” He spat, taking off one leather glove and shoving his left hand down into a surgical grade glove. *Tick*.

“This is gonna hurt.” Anakin stood, gripping Eric’s skinny neck tightly as he dug his nitrile covered fingers beneath his left eye lid and and pulled, kneeling again as he shoved Eric over, letting him fall while keeping a grip on the slippery organ in his palm. He grinned down at him, dangling the eye over his face by the stalk. 

“So, I’ve heard you can still see for a second, as long as the stalk is still attached to the eye socket. Is it true?” Anakin asked, plucking it out, severing the connection as easily as one might pop a grape off the vine. “Simple yes or no.” He asked, an exasperated look on his face when Eric wriggled and fought against his bindings, sobbing, trying to multitask remembering to breathe and trying to get away. 

“God, why is it that people are so fucking useless?” Anakin grumbled, smacking him across the face to shock him into paying attention. “Could you see or not?” A small shake of Eric’s head gave Anakin his disappointing answer, then he promptly passed out.

“Well that’s no fun.” Anakin huffed, shoving a microfiber towel into the eye socket to staunch the bleeding while he went ahead and scooped out the other eye, repeating the process before dropping the eyes into a ziploc bag for later.

“Arts and crafts aren’t meant to be done alone.” He snickered to himself as he prepared his neck task, wrenching out each of Eric’s teeth. Literally. 

With an old wrench he stole from someone’s work truck, he pulled the entire top row of teeth while Eric flitted in and out of consciousness, his victim only managing to moan and cough from the saliva and blood soaking the towel shoved into his throat. Anakin tied the teeth together with floss and sat it aside for later, needing to sit Eric upright for a few *Ticks* and move a few things.

He propped Eric up by duct taping a broom to the backless stool and resting his back against it while he wiped down the wrench with alcohol and lysol wipes. Placing it on the counter in plain view of the camera before removing it again. 

“You are no fun.” Anakin grunted, pulling Eric back down to the ground. “I’ve never had someone stay passed out like this. You might as well be dead already.” 

Anakin hummed to himself, pursing his lips together in thought. Thinking on his feet, Anakin needed to change his plan. He hadn’t expected Eric to be so weak that he’d be unconscious for the entire time. It put a damper on his original plan but he thought up something just as good. All he needed was something tube like.

After taking off his gloves and changing into a fresh pair, he dug through a few drawers until he found just the thing he needed. A marker. Popping off the lid, Anakin made the hole at the top of the lid a bit bigger with his knife, then pried open Eric’s mouth, pulled out the wadded, blood soaked towel and shoved his fingers down his throat.

Feeling around for the right flap of skin before finding it, the epiglottis. He grimaced, feeling Eric choke and gag around his fingers, before quickly removing them and trying not to gag as well. He shivered, rolled his shoulders and got back to work by quickly shoving the marker cap beneath it, effectively propping open the airway. Keeping Eric flat on his back, Anakin took a pair of scissors from the same drawer and grabbed the tip of his tongue, cutting through the thick muscle and mutilating the floor of his mouth as best he could. Performing a purposely sloppy Glossectomy.

Eric roused as the steel blade sliced into the tender muscle of his tongue. Anakin pinched the tip of his tongue harder, making sure to keep hold of it as Eric instinctively bit down, accidentally biting his own tongue.

“I swear to god if you bite your tongue off before I cut it…” Anakin grumbled, having a mental flashback of the blubbering idiot at the lake house. 

Eric tried to scream, but the marker cap in his throat pressed against the top of his vocal cords, lodged in place in a painful way, the pressure only allowing a pathetic squeak to eek out. Anakin smiled down at him, scrunching up his nose as he laughed. 

“Try it again.” He taunted and was pleasantly surprised that Eric indulged him. He desperately tried to make noise, but it was muted, sounding far away and scratchy despite their close proximity. 

“Aw, too bad.” He shook his head, looking down at Eric for a moment. The emotion devoid in his eyes as he had to adapt his plan to fit the circumstances once again. 

He huffed and resigned himself to the easiest choice, continuing with his previous modified plan. He didn’t want to fish around in his throat while he was conscious, Anakin liked having all ten of his fingers. So he pinched the bridge of Eric’s broken nose, pressing down on it and watching as more blood oozed down into the wadded up towel pieces.

He was equally delighted to realize the muscles in the empty eye sockets were twitching beneath the towels as though the eyes were still in place, like Eric’s tiny brain hadn’t realized it couldn’t roll those eyes back in pain. Anakin pressed harder until the panicked, whistling of his victim’s breath through the marker cap evened out. Now that he was unresponsive again, Anakin was free to continue his work. 

The mouth bleeds a lot and Anakin had always wanted to kill someone using only internal injuries. The lungs only need about half a cup of liquid to cause drowning, the body has around five liters of blood and the average pair of human lungs can hold six liters of fluid. No matter what, Eric was going to die and Anakin was thrilled that not a drop of that crimson liquid would be misplaced. Save for what he’d already spilled, technically still contained via three microfiber cleaning cloths, and the little bit he’d gotten on the trash bags and gloves. 

He clamped Eric's mouth shut, leaving the fully dismembered tongue inside the mouth. Ripping off a new piece of tape, Anakin temporarily held his mouth closed with it while he super glued his lips together. He scooted back, watching him seize and convulse. Getting a sick satisfaction from watching the struggle, Eric was already unconscious, so it was more like a slug being salted, rather than a fish flopping on dry land. A bit anticlimactic but the end result would be worth the lackluster performance. 

It didn’t take too long for it all to stop, Eric was now just another inanimate object in the room. An inanimate object that was very uncooperative while Anakin tried to put his jacket back on after cutting off the bindings on his wrists.

Anakin got out a new trash bag and began the clean up process, starting with clean gloves before pulling out the towels from the bloodied eye sockets and super gluing the eyelids closed. He couldn’t help but laugh at how odd it looked. Strangely full mouth and awkwardly empty eyes. After letting himself have a giggle, he started wiping down the corpse’s paling skin with an alcohol wipe, getting every last speck of blood and then doing it all over again with a lysol wipe just to be sure he’d gotten it all. Then he went about peeling up the spattered plastic he’d taped to the ground.

*Tick*. Anakin hefted the limp body back into an upright position on the stool, pushing him up to the corner of the counter before he cut off the saran wrap and tape, leaving him sitting slumped somewhat naturally against the counter, his head propped up on his hand. Anakin stood, quickly tying on Eric’s brand new bracelet, then dropping back to the ground before the next *Tick*.

He surveyed the area over and over again, striving for absolute perfection with his clean up and his staging. He felt the need to make up for the chaos of the last scene he’d caused. At least with the physical aspect of it all. The mental gymnastics the cops would be doing would be more than enough chaos for Anakin to enjoy for years. With a satisfied smile, Anakin repositioned his bandana and zipped up his bag for the last time. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

October 12th 8:56pm

Now that Anakin had showered, put his jewelry back in, disposed of anything incriminating and changed into suitable clothes, he went about your apartment, shutting off the Tv and giving the cat a quick pat on the head before retrieving his phone from the kitchen counter. Clicking it on he was surprised to see that he had a text from you. But it wasn’t for him. 

He sighed, contemplating his options before he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He would have time to think about that later, right now he needed to get down to the Bluebird to pick up his girl. He jogged down the steps of the apartment building and strolled out into the parking lot, he noticed someone standing near his car as he approached it. With it being so dark, he wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman, nor was he certain of what they were doing.

“Hey.” He barked, watching the person straighten up in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Is… is this your car?” A girl’s voice asked nervously.

Anakin turned on his phone flashlight and shined it over toward the young woman, taking in her appearance. He hung back, wondering if he should just walk away. He didn’t like being questioned like this, especially right after what he’d done. 

“Yeah, sure is.” He nodded, his voice casual enough to convey innocence. 

“I’m really, really sorry.” She said quietly, looking like she was on the verge of tears. 

“You okay?” He asked cautiously, taking a slow step backward. 

“I’m okay, sorry.” She sniffled. “Um, it's just… I really fucked up the side of your car.”

“Oh,” Anakin chuckled, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. “you’re okay though?” He asked again.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just dinged the bumper of my car.” She said, thumbing over her shoulder at the red SUV behind her.

“Alright, as long as you didn’t hurt yourself.” Anakin said, moving closer and peeking around the end of his car to see the damage.

“Uh, can you turn on your flashlight too?” He asked, not feeling very comfortable being alone in a dark parking lot with a strange female. 

“Oh, that's not so bad.” He shook his head, assessing the side of his car. The paint was scraped and there was an obvious dent in the back door but it was only cosmetic. “Let’s see yours.”

He tipped his chin toward her vehicle and snorted, shaking his head. Her car barely had a scratch on it, just a bit of his car’s paint had transferred onto the chrome bumper, and there was a small dent, much less severe than the poor kid had made it out to be. 

“I thought you were about to show me a fuckin’ hole in the door.” He laughed, flicking his eyes over to the younger girl. “It’s no big deal hon’. What’s your name?”

“Lacey Diggins.” She said, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

“Alright Lacey, I’m Anakin Skywalker. You live here or something?” He asked while taking a mental note of her name, gesturing toward the apartment building as he fished out his keys from his hoodie pocket to jangle in his hands while he talked. 

“No, I’m just here visiting.” She shook her head, shifting on her feet. “I’ve never been in a car accident before, what exactly am I supposed to do, since it’s my fault?”

“Is this your car or your parents?” He asked, recognizing that she must’ve been highschool age. 

“My mom’s, she’s gonna be so pissed at me.” She let out a humorless laugh, wiping beneath her eyes. “You know car insurance is more expensive for red cars? Now it’ll go up even more.”

“No it won’t.” He shook his head. “Look… that’s barely noticeable, don’t get all worked up. I can get my car fixed pretty cheap, I know a guy.” Anakin brushed it off casually, knowing that it could easily be fixed in the matter of a day or two. 

“But-” She started to speak but Anakin cut her off. 

“Go to the dollar store, grab some WD-40 and some magic erasers.” Anakin said dismissively as he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet. “Spray some on the bumper and scrub it off, they’ll never know. As for the dent… I wouldn’t worry about it, I doubt your mom will notice. Let her think someone at the grocery store did it.” He snorted.

“What about your car?” She squeaked, unsure as to why he was trying to hand her some cash.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you backed into it on purpose right?” He asked with a smirk.

“Well, no of course not.” She shook her head, “What’s that for?” She asked confusedly as Anakin shoved the twenty dollar bill into her palm.

“Alright, then.” He shrugged, patting her shoulder. “That’s for your clean up stuff.” Anakin said plainly as he walked around to the drivers side of his car and unlocked it. 

“No, no it’s alright.” She insisted, trying to give it back to him. “This is all my fault, y-you’re being like way too nice about this.”

“Would you rather me be angry?” He asked with a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets to discourage her from trying to give the money back. “It’s twenty bucks. You’re just a kid and I’m not the kinda guy who gets mad over little stuff like this. All that matters is you’re not hurt and you did the right thing by telling me what happened.”

“Well, be careful alright? I gotta go get my girlfriend.” Anakin said, giving Lacey a curt nod before getting in his car and starting it up. 

As he pulled away from his parking space he watched as the girl walked into the apartment building through his rearview mirror. He clicked his tongue, smiling to himself as he hit the road on his way to pick you up. How convenient that he’d managed to get in a little good deed after the mess he’d made earlier. He knew something like this could really work in his favor, not only to corroborate his timeline just incase he might need to do so. But he doubted he would. After all, how could such a nice guy do something so… heinous.   

TWENTY

Tag-List:

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

[suosgirl]

i can't stop thinking about your recent story 😩 it's so fluffy 💗 what if suo saves reader from thugs one day, as a gentleman as he is, suo accompanies her until she can finally go home safely. oh! then! they meet again unexpectedly in kotoha's cafe since the reader's classmate wants to buy a coffee. reader gave suo a chinese novel as a way of thanks since she notice that he likes chinese stuff due to his outfit then it made suo curious about her which led him to pinning at her but she's kinda dense HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

A Gentleman (& His Rambler) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 4501

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. brief (very brief) mentions of Haruka Sakura and Akihiko Nirei

୨ৎ Song Inspiration: Talk Too Much - Reneé Rapp

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, fluff, f!reader, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst (?), harassment, insecurities, swearing, kissing, 1 oblivious idiot and 1 lovesick idiot – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Oh my goodness this was such a fluffy and cute idea ahhh!!! Thank you for the request (and so sorry that it took so long ahh)!! Definitely took a lot of liberties with this (f!reader is written as a college student) but I hope you enjoy the story (and I hope it was somewhere in the ballpark of what you were thinking of hehe)!!!! Additional notes: I wasn’t too comfortable with just writing down any old novel, so I did a bit of research on my end and wrote it in a way that made sense to me as well as Suo’s character! So sorry if this wasn’t really what you had in mind, but I think it flows fairly well with the story so I hope that it makes sense for you as well! ♡

In your defense, at least you talked about things that were interesting. At least, you had thought so, but the puzzled looks on your assailant's faces beg to differ. It’s funny, when Suo comes across the men harassing you, he knows that you’re in trouble – but instead of taking the time to maybe scream for help or yell at them to go away, you’re instead in the middle of explaining differential equations to them.

You hated this. You weren’t even supposed to be walking home alone.

But, when duty calls (the duty being your friend having to beg their professor for a grading curve), well – you make do with what you’ve got. 

You could’ve stayed, and right now, you think that you should’ve stayed, but you were never a patient person – so, determined and tenacious, you start your short journey back home. 

You’re counting on making quick work of the stroll, maybe stopping by the corner store to pick up some snacks and a well-deserved coffee, before finally bunkering down to start the copious amount of research that you’ve been putting off.

What you aren’t counting on, though, is for a group of guys to start following you just a little after you leave campus.

You don’t count on them running after you once you speed your walk up to a run.

And, you don’t count on them to corner you in an alley when you ignore their pleas of “slow down” and “we just wanna talk”.

They drive you into a corner, and you shrink under their outraged eyes and towering frames.

You’re absolutely fucked, and you know it.

Your mind short circuits, and you freeze – one hand on the strap of your bag, and the other clamped around your phone.

You know what you should do. You should threaten to call the authorities, you should start crying for help, you should try to make a dash past all of them to freedom.

But, you’re you, so…

Like any sane person – you start talking.

Despite the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes and the wobble in your knees, you start telling these harassers about how your classes went, the textbooks you purchased (at an outrageous price, might you add), the quiz that you failed, and the project that you have due in a couple of days.

And – you can’t help it. It’s not like they knew what they were signing up for when they chased you, but you’re sure that if they did, then the thought wouldn’t have even crossed their minds.

On all accounts, you didn’t think your rambling was even that bad, and honestly, you rarely ever did it.

(This is all pure speculation on your end, by the way.)

But you know how some people are just gifted? How some things just come naturally to them? 

…Yeah. That was you. Would some say that you simply don’t have a filter? Maybe. Would others say that you talk at the speed of light? Perhaps.

In your defense, at least you talked about things that were interesting. At least, you had thought so, but the puzzled looks on your assailants faces beg to differ.

It’s funny, when Suo comes across the men harassing you, he knows that you’re in trouble – but instead of taking the time to maybe scream for help or yell at them to go away, you’re instead in the middle of explaining differential equations to them. 

And what’s silly is that it works – you’ve got them standing there scratching their heads as they try to just keep up with you, and you …

Well, Suo drinks in the sight of you. 

It’d be hard not to – not with the way that you’re moving your hands in earnest with your words or the way your brows are scrunching up in agitation.

Wisps of your hair have escaped the haphazard bun you’d done earlier that day, and your face has a glowing, rosy flush to it.

And your lips – 

Well, Suo’s never had the urge to kiss a stranger, but… 

With the way that they part pretty with every word, and the occasional peek of the tip of your tongue as you lick them, Suo can’t say that he would say no if you so chose to reward him for his hard work with a press of your lips to his.

And, from what he can gather, you really hate differential equations.

It’s captivating, really.

Besides… Suo’s always been fairly weak to charming little things like you.

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

You’re not sure how or even when (as your body is still in fight or flight mode and your mouth is still going) but eventually, there’s only one person standing in front of you – and it’s a stranger.

A kind, attractive stranger who’s just saved you.

And now, he’s comforting you, voice soft and smile gentle as he tells you that everything's okay now.

But you… well, you’re inconsolable. 

Not because you’ve just experienced a traumatic incident, no.

It’s because, well, you’ve just yapped like your life depended on it, in front of a man who had not only saved you, but also witnessed said incessant talking.

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to explain the way that you feel right now.

You do your best to thank him in a polite and brief manner before going on your merry way, but he can see the way you’re gripping your bag and walking with a slight sway to your step.

And it would be rude, right? To let you walk home all alone? After experiencing something like this?

At least, that's what Suo tells himself before he sends Sakura and Nirei a quick message that he’ll be running late to meet with them.

Always the gentleman, Suo catches up with you and offers to walk you home.

The request catches you off guard more than you’d like to admit, so much so that all you can do is shyly nod with wide eyes when he asks if you’d like him to hold your school bag as well.

There’s a slight brush of your fingertips as you hand the bag to him, and you feel it coming.

You know what’s about to happen, but there’s no way in hell that you can stop what’s already begun.

And you, always the rambler, start talking about everything and anything that you can think of just to fill the silence between you.

He had chalked down your reaction earlier to being in a heightened state of panic, but, as he escorts you home, he realizes that – no, this is just how you are.

And it’d be a lie if he didn’t find it endearing.

When you’re delivered safe and sound, you promise to get him a gift to show your gratitude but he waves it off, saying that you don’t have to go out of your way to do so.

(He doesn’t tell you that he’d much rather just be in your company to see what else will spill from your pretty lips.)

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

You, however, weren’t one to let something like that go — especially for the person who’d saved you. You don’t catch his name (which is shocking because how did you forget to ask him such an important question amongst everything else), but that doesn’t discourage you – If there’s one thing that you are, it’s stubborn.

And also talkative.

You begin asking around, from your friends to your neighbors to even store employees, trying to get as much information about him as you can. 

You learn his name, that he’s a part of Bofurin (figures), that he enjoys drinking tea, and that he has an affinity for Chinese-styled clothing. But beyond that, the trail goes cold. It seems that he’s someone who keeps his tastes close to heart, so you’ve got no other choice but to work with what little you’ve learned.

Almost immediately, you tick off any tea related gifts in your mind. You ran exclusively on iced coffee and pure adrenaline, so – yeah. You definitely did not have the necessary judge of character needed to distinguish tea blends.

But! You don’t let that little roadblock deter you. Stubbornness can work wonders.

You rack your brain for what feels like ages on what gift could suit a man as mysterious as him, but a girl can only muse for so long – and you weren’t happy with any of your ideas thus far.

You could get him clothes, but you don’t know his size. You could treat him to a meal, but your sources tell you that he’s rarely ever seen eating. You could get him jewelry cleaner for his earrings, but you’re not quite sure of the materials that are in them.

It isn’t until you’re stuck in the campus library during one fateful cram session that it hits you – literature.

It suited him! It was the best of both worlds, you thought. It was heartfelt, and also of substance for a man of his caliber. And – it made sense!

(This also could’ve been an act of procrastination on your part, but you feign ignorance.)

You spend about half of an hour speaking to the librarian about what Chinese books get borrowed the most, and the other half scouring over the internet for recommendations and book reviews.

What you land on, after extensive research that really should’ve been spent on school (but whatever), is a book called “The Book of Songs: The Ancient Chinese Classic of Poetry”.

According to the librarian, this book is loaned at least once to twice a month, which is surprising considering that it’s not a required text for any of your school’s courses. What you take away from this, though, is that it’s popular. 

And when you see the 4.6 out of 5 rating, well – 

The people don’t lie. At least, you assume so. The librarian had also said that this was a classic for anyone interested in Chinese literature, and who were you to deny the suggestions of a clear expert in the matter?

And, when you slip in a handwritten note of yet another “thanks” with your number and name in the cover of the book, well, who could blame you?

You just wanted to know his thoughts on the book – that’s all.

Really.

But the thing is that you haven’t got the slightest clue on how to give it to him.

He wasn’t at Furin High anymore, so that wasn’t a solution. And – you weren’t so desperate to ask around for his address, so you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So what do you do?

Like any sane person – you keep it in your book bag.

Eventually, right? Eventually, you’ll see him again, and you can just drop it in his hands before scurrying away like the little shy bumblebee you are. And if he doesn’t message you back? Hey – no worries! You’ll just do everything in your power to erase the interaction from your mind until your inevitable passing of old age!

Good god, you were starting to ramble in your head now.

‘Eventually’ becomes a safety word for you of sorts. It means the inevitable future, that’ll come sooner or later.

You just didn’t know that it would be today.

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

When your friend asks you to meet at Café Pothos after class so that you can get coffee, you answer with an immediate and desperate yes. 

But – 

Whether it was due to the all nighter you had pulled the night before, or the overwhelming workload you had been saddled with over the course of the past couple days – you’re not sure, but you swear that your eyes are playing tricks on you.

Because, lo and behold, sitting at the counter with the afternoon glow illuminating his side profile perfectly, is Suo.

And you feel all the air escape your lungs.

Your friend calls your name from a table just a little further into the café, but you can’t move – not with his gift weighing so heavy in your bag.

It isn’t until one of Suo’s friends, one with black and white hair, is nudging Suo with his shoulder and tilting his chin in the direction of you.

“Ya got someone staring – do you know ‘em?”

When Suo turns to you, eye wide with surprise and his mouth just slightly parted, you can’t help but feel like a moron because – you’d forgotten just how handsome he really is.

And when he gets up from his chair to meet you in the café’s doorway, you try to bite back the words that are already forming at the tip of your tongue. 

“Oh, it’s you! It’s been a while since I last saw you – Sorry, I didn’t get your name last time. What was it?”

You take a deep breath in, willing the monstrosity that’s your mouth to calm down just the slightest. 

Just one question. He just asked one question. Even a grade school child could answer this without getting distracted. You could absolutely do this.

You, with all the willpower that you can muster, let your name flow out before immediately clamping down on your tongue.

But then, Suo tilts his head in a playful manner as he lets your name roll off his tongue, as if practicing it for future use, and at that point, even cement would serve powerless against the impulse of your mouth.

And you break.

“Ah! By the way – remember when I said I would get you a gift? You know, for saving me last time? That was so scary, haha, and I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out that day. I got you this poetry book, I hope you like it! I wasn’t sure what you’d like, and I didn’t know what else I could get you, but this has really good reviews! I even spoke to my school librarian about it! 4.6 out of 5, can you believe that? So, I hope it lives up to the praise, haha, but let me know if it doesn’t! If it doesn’t, well, I’m sure I can find something else for you… by the way, I –”

Okay, so you couldn’t do it.

You’re interrupted by the low whistling of one of Suo’s friends, and you blink rapidly before throwing your hand over your mouth.

But Suo, well – 

He’s looking down at you with a hint of fondness in his eye, but you wouldn’t know that, not with the way that your gaze is glued to the floor.

You did it again, and this time, with an audience. 

Briefly, you wonder if it’s too late for you to ask for the book back so that you can pathetically stuff your note into your pocket – and then burn it later.

But the book’s already in his hands, and the words have already left your mouth.

“... I think I talk too much,” you mumble as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, suddenly very well aware that Suo’s barely said less than 30 words compared to your whopping 124.

This wasn’t what you had wanted, but you just couldn’t help it.

He laughs, though, and goes to gently pat your head.

“Maybe so…”

He pats twice, before trailing the tips of his fingers gently down the side of your face.

“... but I’m a good listener.”

He ends his words with a playful tap of his finger to the tip of your nose, but all you can do is gape in response.

God, he really was just way too nice.

(He was not, in fact, just being nice – but you’d find this out much, much later.)

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

To your surprise, Suo actually likes hanging out with you. Or at least, that’s what he says, but you’re not so sure. Not when you’re doing most of the talking, and he’s leaning his chin on his hand as he listens. 

Sometimes, and you hate when you do this, but you wonder if he’s just taking pity on you.

You don’t like to think about it too much, don’t like to feed the insecurity that dwells deep in your heart, but sometimes, you can’t help it.

And it’s not like you’ve never heard it before – the comments of “you’re so loud” or “do you ever breathe?” or, and this is your personal favorite, “you talk too much.”

Because yeah – you know, you’re aware.

It’s easy to laugh it off, and you do every time, but when you’re alone at night, with just you and your thoughts, you can’t help but create a daily habit – 

One where you replay everything that you’ve said that day, and you try to critique yourself.

Oh, I spoke too much during that – I’ve got to tone it down. 

Yikes, I got a little loud there – I need to speak softer.

Oops, I went on a tangent – I need to cut myself off.

And honestly? This habit becomes your bread and butter, despite how detrimental you know it is. Because the reality is, you’d much rather hear it from yourself than others.

But, being with Suo – 

Well, he doesn’t let you. 

Doesn’t let you tone it down, or speak softer, or cut yourself off.

Because he’s just as invested in what you’re saying as you are – and the feeling of that is …

“Tell me more – I’m listening.”

“I can’t hear you love, can you speak up?”

“Why’d you stop? It was just getting interesting.”

Well, it’s indescribable to you.

And, he does this soft little hum as he listens to you, and everytime, everytime it has you stumbling over your words just the slightest.

(You don’t catch the way that the corners of his lips perk up at the sound.)

And suddenly – you don’t have to bite back your tongue around him anymore. 

You can just be you, with no restrictions, no second guessing, no worries.

“I don’t get it,” you admitted once during one of your walks around your neighborhood (you’d needed a break from studying, and luckily, he just happened to be in the area for patrol), “I’m only like this when I’m around you.”

Suo laughs, and you feel your chest tighten just a bit at the sound, because his laugh was, well – 

The only word you can use to describe it is addictive.

And it always, always left you with butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s okay – I’d prefer it, actually.”

Your steps falter at his words, and he continues.

“I’d prefer if you’re only like this around me.”

That night, you’re left at your doorstep with rosy cheeks – and you’re 100% sure that it’s not due to the humid summer weather.

But you had to give it to him – he really was a good listener.

And, he had great memory.

Most of the time, you’d only really understand and process half the words that fly out of  your mouth, but Suo was able to process all of it.

If you absentmindedly mentioned that you’d really liked the coffee at this one café in Makochi, he’s asking if you’re free the coming weekend so that he can try their assortment of tea.

And when the cashier asks if you both are together, you innocently answer with a cheerful yes and fall into a tangent about how you’d loved their drinks so much that he’d wanted to try them too and now you’re both here to hang out and try more of their menu!

Suo doesn’t find it necessary to clarify what the cashier actually meant – not with the way that your answer sounds so right to him. 

Because yes, you were together, even if you yourself weren’t aware of it yet.

(A hangout in your eyes. A date in his.)

If you had an upcoming deadline, Suo was always diligently checking in with you. He’d send a text every couple of days, asking how it’s going and the efforts that you’ve made towards it – and you have to admit that while it was helpful, it was also extremely unnecessary.

Unnecessary only because you enjoyed procrastinating, but with a man like this, you simply couldn’t.

…

Okay, fine – so maybe you don’t have as many sleepless nights because you’re well ahead of your projected timeline. So maybe you spend less time cramming for tests because you’ve already reviewed the practice exam like three times. So maybe you’re able to lower your overall stress levels by actually adhering to the plans that you’ve set up for yourself.

So what?

It’s… it’s not like that was a problem before, right?

It absolutely was – but again, you’re stubborn, remember?

(Nagging in your eyes. Thoughtfulness in his.)

And, it’s during one of your “hangouts”, that Suo presses his luck.

He should’ve known, really, that it’d go through one ear and out the other, but he blames it on his unrivaled, optimistic spirit – and maybe just a smidge of wishful thinking.

Because introducing you as his special girl should’ve raised some flags in your mind, right?

It should’ve made you wonder – hm, why am I Suo’s special girl?

He swears he can see the gears turning in your head. 

But you’re you, so you take whatever it is that you thought it meant and you run with it.

And now, you’re introducing yourself to all of the past Bofurin members as his best friend, which – 

Not completely off base, but not at all what he was expecting from the situation.

And, when a couple of them send eyes of sympathy in his direction, all he can do is force a strained smile as he guides you, with his hand on your waist, to yet another group of people who will undoubtedly follow suit.

(Kindness in your eyes. Affection in his.)

At this point, you’re sure that he could read you like an open book – and he can.

He can read you so well, in fact, that he knows that you’re as dense as they come.

Because for months, Suo’s been playing the long game.

He’s been taking you out on dates, showering you with affection, and basically professing his devotion – all to show you what a great partner he could be for you.

But you – adorable, clueless, dense you. You just couldn’t quite get the hint, could you?

So, when Suo has to pull out the big guns to really get it through your thick skull (he thinks this in an affectionate way, he swears) – well, you only have yourself to blame.

Because how could someone so perfect be so damn oblivious?

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

“You’re aware that I have feelings for you, right?”

You’d been stargazing for the past 10 minutes, fingers just barely touching as you’re both splayed out on the blanket laid out below you.

It was supposed to be a fun little hangout as you celebrate the end of the quarter, but now, you’re starting to realize that maybe, just maybe – 

You blink, before sitting up.

He repeats his words, slower now, while rising up with you.

You blink again, slower now, as your brain processes what he’s just said.

It takes all of about 5 seconds before you open your mouth, ready to default back to your factory settings of rambling but –

Nothing comes out.

Suo had managed to stun you into silence for the first time in your life with less than 10 words.

And, judging by the pleased smile on his lips and the glint in his eye – he knows this.

This was a golden opportunity, after all. So, Suo takes advantage of it while he can.

Whether this is revenge for the past couple of months though, he’s not sure – but, he always was fairly petty.

“You’re so silly, you know that love?”

Your mouth, still open, can only close in response.

He presses on.

“You are, and this isn’t a compliment, the most oblivious person I’ve ever fallen for.”

Your breath hitches at his words.

“You never once left my mind after our first meeting – and when I saw you again at the café, well, I thought it was fate. It had to be – because how was I lucky enough to get to meet you again?”

You bite your tongue, this time not to hold back your words, but instead, to try and get your mouth to start working again.

“And it’s funny – because I managed to fall for someone who can capture the attention of strangers with just mere words, but somehow can’t see that I’ve been following them around like a lost, lovesick puppy since the day we crossed paths.”

You’re at a loss for why your mouth still won’t move.

“So if this still isn’t enough for you to finally see how deeply I feel for you, then I’m not sure what else I can do that’s still within the bounds of being a gentleman because –”

And finally, finally you’re able to cut him off – with a soft press of your lips to his cheek.

“... I‘m sorry Suo … but I think ... you talk too much.”

What can you say? You were never a patient person – and right now, with his feelings finally so clear to you, well… 

You were an idiot. To think, you could’ve done that so much earlier.

It takes him a second to process your words, cheek still reminiscing the brief contact of your lips on his skin, but – 

He gazes down at you, with a coy smile on his face and mirth in his eyes – and you can see it so clearly on his face, that feeling of triumph.

Because although he’d spent the past couple of months yearning for your affection, he wasn’t prepared for how rewarding it would be when you finally reciprocated.

“I suppose you’re rubbing off on me.”

Then, as an afterthought, he adds –

“I’m suddenly feeling very talkative. Will you, by any chance, be using that method to silence me right here?”

And when he taps on his lips with his finger, well – 

You weren’t dense enough to not understand what he was asking for.

And this time, when your lips meet his, he’s ready.

He snakes one arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap, with the other cupping the side of your face, and you melt.

It’s soft and drawn out and perfect, with both your lips parted just so – and there’s only one word that runs through both of your minds when you kiss.

Finally.

And, when your lips part, your bodies don’t. Instead, Suo presses his forehead against yours, and you feel your eyes flutter at the gesture.

God, you really were an idiot.

“By the way – that book you gave me, I realize now that I never got to let you know how much I liked it.”

You blink at his words, still in a daze from his lips on yours.

“How did you know that was my favorite book?”

You furrow your brows at his words, because you did not know that.

And Suo knows that you didn’t – but he continues.

Because, well, what can he say? You really were rubbing off on him.

“I loan it every month through one of my friends in Bofurin. Although, it’s nice to have my own copy now – especially since it’s from you.”

[twost3ps]

Lucifur is gonna be in a pit of a pinch....

A sneak peek into more of my Scott Pilgrim au!!!

Still tweaking their designs but this is what I've got so far!!! This is a sketch and not final >>>>:(

:3

But let's goooo I just need to choose one more character >>:3 to make the 7

I've gotten a few suggestions so far:

Alastor- it would be funny. Just so funny. And it makes Lucfir question when and how. it's brilliant. Idk how their dynamic would work for this one. Or when really but I'd still consider it o3o

Alastors mom- same as alastor, it's funny. And then it also let's me make lucifur fight Alastor so instead of a 1v1 it's a 2v1. Alastors mom is super scary :)

Valentino- not a lot of history, but it makes the roster start off easy. Possible hilarious character interaction. For one, easy win and second, fast punching bag. Still thinking about the dynamic, but for sure Adam and him have a rocky relationship which let to him to further solidify his hate in sinners and how irredeemable they were also some platonic holydust excuse

Dumah -angel of vindication, and I'm making him Azraels twin brother. He and Azrael will have similar scenarios. When they picked up Adam from earth, he kinda found them kinda hot. Both are ruthless and do share a similar sentiment about sinner, Dumah more so because he's the one judging them. He def hates Luficur and thinks he's pathetic and is not taking his job- the one God so graciously gave him- seriously at all. Even after the fight, Dumah would still not respect Lucifur all that much

Satan- assuming that they meant Satan, as the sin of wrath, makes Luci question again how Adam was able to do this this whole time. Adam got with him, like Mammon, by chance during an extermination. I don't think any of the sins actually care for the exterminations- they're not their people. Why should they? It implied that Lucifur didn't either until Charlie expressed her desire for redemption. Satan liked Adam's wrath and fighting spirit. Thought his weapon was cool too. He could feel all the anger and hate in Adam and was intrigued. Adam thought Satan was really cool too. Also pretty hot and both kinda get off on how much rage they have and their destructiveness.

Still considering:

St. Peter- guys. It's funny. Promise. It's the 'he was a punk, he did ballet' and Lucifur is surprised how they even got together in the first place. He's watching them and wondering what pulled them together. Peter is just glad to see that Adam is actually alive and not dead once he's brought into fight. Lucifur thinks it's gonna be easy before St peter reveals that he's actually a UNIT. Adam and St Peter got together because Adam was sent to train him to gaurd the gate. Yes, Peter is there to let ppl in, but he was also placed there as a surprising first line of defense. They train and ig one thing led to another over time and they got together. So when Luci fight him, he's very shocked at how capable St peter is

Lute- again, I still think that they have a funny father and daughter dynamic but then a saw malaierba's tags and it opened my eyes a bit and made me reconsider putting her on the roster. Adam was Lute's experiment relationship. Dated for like a week, at best, before Lute said "nah I'm gay" and it felt weird for both of them cuz they really just saw eachother as family. Lute is mad protective toward Adam and the fuel of believing that Lucifur is the reason Adam is in hell makes her all just a bit (very) more feral

Depending who I choose will moved them up or down the roster but eyyeyey

Im still open to suggestions!! I might retract the limits I said before just in case.

If I still can't choose, I'll open a poll or something :p

Next post will prob be about the background of everyone else on the roster so far o3o

[mockerycrow]

Hello!!!!!! So i was wonderinfg if you could do a piece for cod mw2? A platonic 141 (other characters can be added if youd like) x (preferably 18-20 yr old) gn or fem reader. It can be a oneshot or headcannons, i dont mind either format!!! If you do a oneshot, any scenario (a mission, off duty, etc) is fine w me!!! You basically have free reign, just keep it strictly platonic, not even a smidge of the hints w the reader and romantic relationships 👍❤️

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head? (Platonic!141 x Fem!Reader)

cod masterlist

A/N: YESS!! I LOVE PLATONIC FICS!! 99% of my writing so far has been romantic, kind of funny considering I’m aromantic and queer. thank you anon <3 i’m also sorry for taking so long. your speciality isn’t specified, but it can’t be demolitions, im sorry!! plot purposes.

[WARNINGS: mentioned misogyny, fluff.]

Considering how young you are, you deal with quite a lot of people who have low expectations for you. To be fair, you don’t have much experience, but you are a quick learner and that’s very much needed on this base. You’re a Specialist, one rank above Private in the U.S. army ranks. When people first meet you, they expect you to be a coward, a twenty year old girl—is what they like to call you—who doesn’t know the difference between a 5.56 mm cartridge and a 7.62 mm cartridge, a clueless little girl. Of course you did not know everything, but it was clear you know enough and have enough skill as you’re apart of the 141.

When you were first picked for the team, Ghost was a bit skeptical. Your age played a big factor because he was concerned about your level of experience, but he overall trusts Price’s judgement. A huge part of it was him worried about how you would take in all of the traumatizing sights they see on every mission. How you would be able to take someone down without a second thought, even if they pleaded for their life. He didn’t voice this worry, nor did he do anything to “shield” you because he knows you know what you signed up for.

You physically train/spar with Ghost and Gaz separately frequently. They are different in size and in style of defense/attack, so they both give you great pointers on how to defend yourself and how to initiate an attack. You have a schedule with them; when you’re on base, you train with Gaz Mondays and Tuesdays and Ghosts on Thursdays, preferably early in the morning with Gaz and in the evening with Ghost. Even when you perfect your own style for attack and defense, you keep training with them; “So you don’t get rusty.”

Price knows what you signed up for, and he knows that he picked you, so like everyone else on the task force, he begins to train you. Being an expert in violence and timing—unconventional warfare too, he occasionally sits in on your training sessions with Gaz and/or Ghost. Sometimes, he talks with Gaz or Ghost beforehand to set up a specific scenario for you to find a way to get out of alive.

Being said, Price takes you out as well as the team to a training field, doing the exact same thing but in a more.. realistic scenario. Being so young, he figures you still have an unacceptable type of response with “fight, flight, or freeze”. His plan is to strip away the freeze response because that’s the one that will get you killed. He also very specifically has himself and your teammates as the enemies in this field because while you’re supposed to trust your team with your life, there’s also often betrayal in the field.

Soap is a demolitions expert, as well as a sniper. He absolutely refuses to let you handle real bombs at first because he knows you didn’t specialize in demolitions like he did. After spending a few months with you, he brings out non-dangerous replicas of bombs and replicated parts to begin to show you how to take a bomb apart/defuse it, when it’s best to let it explode, or how to put one together for emergencies. He absolutely 110% makes sure you know it’s for emergencies when he isn’t there. It’s not that he thinks you’re incapable, but he can’t help but worry. Him learning about how Gaz and Price met, how Price only had seconds to shove the hostage with a bomb vest strapped to him over that railing? Fucking terrifying to him.

Gaz also helps you complete your interrogation training—not being the interrogator, but then interrogatee. Undergoing several mentally challenging tests himself of this variety, he tasks himself with giving you pointers. Your task is to keep your mouth shut about intel and escape the facility and remain hidden, uncaptured during the entire test. He’s so incredibly used to uncomfortable situations, so his pointers during this—seeing that he passed this test himself, the only one who past it in his class—his advice is helpful.

Besides training with Ghost, he coaches you ambushes and stealth. Every time you’re caught in a test, he coaches you on how to evade, on how to remain hidden even when the enemy is right in front of you. He teaches you how to set up traps and ruses, what traps are most commonly used and spotted and what ones aren’t.

Overall, they know you’re inexperienced and young, but you quickly take their advice and training into account, and you get to teach them a thing or two when you arrive on base. You learn quick and Price finally feels as if you’re ready for an intense stealth mission, accompanied by the team. They don’t have any doubt held in their hearts for you, 100% trusting your abilities.

[irisintheafterglow]

i'm having many thoughts about bf!satoru playing pretend with little megumi so bear with me.

"oh no, we've been hit by a sudden lightning storm! get down, buddy!"

"no, we haven't! your yelling is going to scare the tigers away."

"tigers? i thought we were in africa."

"we were in africa yesterday, but we took a ship to india and now we're looking at tigers."

"oh, you're right. sorry, i'm not good at keeping track of our travel itinerary."

"it's okay; that's why i write it all down in your passport."

the vague sounds of your boyfriend and your unofficial son ring out in the apartment. you shake out your umbrella and hang your coat by the door, the sounds of incessant rain pattering against your windows. your boys are nowhere to be found.

"megs? 'toru?"

"in here!" you follow your boyfriend's voice to the room that you've designated as megumi's room, a place for him to call his own whenever he wasn't staying with family. it was sparsely decorated because you'd only moved into the new space a few days ago, but it was already cozier than the stale dorms at jujutsu tech. "we've decided to adventure into the jungle," satoru says from within the tent pitched in the middle of the room.

"mhmm," you hum in amusement and slight confusion, "and where did you get the tent?"

"stole it," megumi pipes up, his face sticking out of the zippered door flap. he unzips the entrance all the way and you give your boyfriend an incredulous look. "satoru said it was okay."

"you stole it?" megumi snickers at your tone that makes satoru raise his hands defensively.

"you think yaga's gonna be camping in this weather, sweetheart?"

"you're teaching him that stealing is okay," you argue with a hand on your hip.

"if it's from yaga-"

"satoru," you chuckle, dragging a hand down your face. he really was an idiot when he tried to be. you can't say that megumi's smile wasn't making you happy, though. "look, just make sure he gets it back without him actually knowing it was gone."

"deal, now get in here," satoru says before grabbing your hand and tugging you into the tent. it's so small that his shoulders pull forward because he can't sit up straight and his hair brushes the top of the tent. it becomes even more cramped when you crash into the various pillows and blankets they'd pulled from the closet. "look at what we did." his finger points up at the string of lights they'd successfully strewn across the top perimeter of the tent, making your faces glow in soft hues of yellow and orange. "what time is it out there?"

"what, in the jungle?"

"in the real world," satoru corrects. "this explorer is getting a little hungry."

"it's almost 5:00, so we can grab something for dinner soon. but, first, i wanna see these tigers you're looking at." you run your hand through satoru's hair and he leans into your touch. megumi enthusiastically shows you his binoculars toy that changed pictures of different animals with the flick of a bright blue switch. as he plays, you lean back into satoru's chest and his arms wrap around your body. "what were you thinking for dinner, love?"

"i was thinking soup, but i'm good with whatever you're craving," he murmurs in your ear. "i'm just glad you're home."

"me too. maybe we can go furniture shopping tomorrow if the weather lets up," you suggest. his body is warm like a space heater and it's a nice contrast to the chilly winter storm raging on outside.

"i'm also just as happy to sleep in this tiny little tent with you and the kid."

"i love you, satoru."

"i love you more. also, we should get him more pictures for that little toy."

"or, i just portal us to see some actual tigers." you feel him laugh softly against your body. "i could portal us to africa, too. just depends on your itinerary."

"you're very funny," he deadpans lightheartedly.

"i know i am. it's why you love me so much."

"very true. i'll go anywhere as long as i'm with you."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[beneathashadytree]

what are your favourite unhinged headcannons for the lads/lnds LIs please?🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 like something that based on how they act in canon preferably but even if it's way left field, just something funny about them

I personally headcanon Zayne as autistic (my radar is going OFF) so I’m 100% projecting when I say that he’s definitely offended MANY superiors at university with his manner of speaking. This makes him feel absolutely HUMILIATED when he gets told off/reminded that not every takes his straightforwardness as a good thing. It’s why sometimes he often hesitates & rethinks his words with the MC; the Neurodivergent Struggle™️

Ever since he and MC started dating, he’s definitely caught himself looking in the mirror more than he ever did before. Not out of vanity, but merely checking in on his appearance every now and then. He’s more conscious of how he looks (in a good way!!) compared to how he previously viewed his body as simply a vessel before. Goes completely red when caught by them, and plays it off as checking for new scars (hint: there aren’t any this time).

Rafayel has a habit of making biting remarks as he gets all shy and defensive, but sometimes he doesn’t hear the double entendres behind his words until the MC smirks at him. Sometimes it’s purely coincidental and he goes beet red, other times he’s lowkey handing them bait to tease him. Maybe a small part of him likes it when he hears them say such scandalous things and joke around…

Delicate as his hands are, he’s got a pretty extensive knife collection. Super fancy too, like the stuff you’ll find at those oddly specific stores downtown where the single set of 6 pieces costs your left kidney and a leg. When he’s run out of inspiration, he sharpens them and takes VERY good care of them. This type of attention is also given to his beloved daggers and weapons of choice. Shiny = pretty is a very recurrent theme with him.

Xavier had gone through a phase where he was trying his best to adjust to life amongst humans, and that was when he was introduced to the wonders of pop culture and the entertainment world. So if he happens to hum along to insanely obscure songs that were popular a decades ago and somehow has every song by said artist memorized, don’t question it. He’s a multi-stan.

Being such a sleepy guy who’s barely conscious, Xavier has definitely skipped MANY relationship milestones with the MC by accidentally letting important words slip during phone calls. Whenever they call him and he’s just woken up, he just word-vomits/half-mumbles his way through his sappiest thoughts that come to him so easily (examples: “I love you so much” “Can’t wait till you marry me” and “Let’s buy a big house for our future family”)

This actually turned out to be more detailed than I thought it would be, sorry for rambling nonnie. This is practically a piece of writing on its own 😭😭

[chiibinomonodamon]

WHO WANTS TO HEAR ME RAMBLE ABOUT GAY FURRY DEMON SEX? XD

(damn, there's a sentence I never thought I'd say....)

Okay...so I see some Stolitz confusion and bashing online and I need to type up a defense here because I won't be able to sleep otherwise lol

I consider myself to be a Ship Critic and someone who takes shipping rather seriously.

What I mean by this is, I like to analyze and break down romantic relationships between fictional characters because it's just interesting to write for me. I especially take delight in friendly debating with opinions that I strongly do *not* agree with.

Let me start off by saying I am NOT a "this ship is awesome because gay furry sex lol" type of girl.

FAR from it. I'm generally more passionate about hetero ships between human characters (because I can relate to them more) among other reasons. So if you wanna dismiss my defense as "shallow fangirlism", you can forget about that lame excuse.

I fell in love with Hazbin Hotel when it was finally released in February and suffered waiting for each new two-parts per week. During that time, I decided to watch Helluva Boss as well, after a friend showed me a particularly soul-crushing clip (Moxxie's childhood trauma about his mother).

Yes, I like funny sex jokes as much as the next goofy adult but scenes like this, scenes that carry a very heavy emotional weight are what really get me in the end, even moreso when VERY little dialogue is exchanged. I knew I had to watch the entire episode run after seeing that the creators had a talent for this.

I saw people asking:

"How did Stolas go from using Blitz as a sex toy to being painfully in love with him?"

Oh I can tell you. I can tell you the EXACT moment this is revealed. But it's not spoon-fed to you; it's quite subtle actually and this is why lots of people miss it.

See, one of the strongest talents Vivenne has shown me is that she REALLY knows how to get her characters to communicate their feelings to the viewers JUST from their expressions and body language. These can be 'blink-and-miss-it' teeny little scenes and it may require a couple rewatches.

But since people demand time stamps for all information others post here, I'll rewatch a few scenes from S1 E7 'Ozzie's' as I'm typing this.

'Ozzie's' remains to be not just my favorite episode of HB...but probably my favorite episode of any adult-targeted animated show outside of Japan (aside from S2 E7's Mid-Season Special)

It has this huge reveal for both Blitzo and Stolas.

We'll first address Blitzo's irrational, stalkerish behavior of Moxxie and Millie.

He's obsessed with them. He finds both of them very attractive, fantasizes about threesomes with them and is constantly inserting himself into their personal lives.

Why?

Because they have everything that he badly badly wants for himself.

They have the perfect marriage and he is trying to live THROUGH them.

This was hilarious to me at the beginnning of the show but it's slowly revealed that it's one of the most tragic and depressing things I've ever seen. And it's scarily realistic too.

But you know this already so let's move on...

Blitzo follows the couple to Ozzie's but he can't get in without a date. So he calls up Stolas and yes, this is very low but he doesn't realize how much this means to Stolas (hell, I'm not sure even Stolas realizes it himself!) but the owl man is giddy with joy, he rushes over and they enter Ozzie's.

When Ozzie and Fizz mock Moxxie for being so sappy towards his wife, this strikes a chord with Blitzo (because they're his IDEAL relationship) and he speaks up to defend them.

NOW PAY CLOSE ATTENTION; THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART:

Fizz, still holding onto his past grudge turns on Blitzo to humilate him:

"Some nerve you got commenting on a relationship"

Time Stamp: 11:37

As Fizz says "-ship", Blitzo VERY QUICKLY makes eye contact with Stolas who has a look of panic on his face. Blitzo is seeking VALIDATION from Stolas in this sharp, subtle second of screentime, as if to ask

"Well, ARE we in one?"

And then what happens next...Stolas remains silent, Blitzo's ex joins in to announce how selfish Blitzo was in bed with her, tearing him down further. Stolas stands up like he's going to put a stop to it but then Ozzie notices him and interrogates him about sleeping with Blitzo.

Blitzo looks incredibly ashamed and guilty as Stolas blushes with similar feelings...and hides his face behind his menu; HIS BIGGEST MISTAKE IN THE SERIES SO FAR.

Time Stamp: 12:24

The look on Blitzo's face as he grits his teeth and darts his eyes away basically says

"Yeah, I should have known...boy am I an idiot for trusting him to stand up for me".

(look how SHOCKED he is...wow, this hurts fr ;_;)

This is a silent betrayal on Stolas's part. Afterall, his reputation is on the line, so if he were to defend Blitzo, it confirms they are in fact, dating. He chose his pride over Blitzo and Blitzo is crushed by this betrayal.

Moxxie finishes his song and kisses his wife tenderly. Stolas watches this and also wants to have an affectionate moment with Blitzo (who is rightfully glaring daggers at him) and tries to reach for his hand.

Blitzo rejects his touch and suggests they leave. As they do, Blitzo still looks furious and hurt. Stolas is now realizing how badly he screwed up with a "What have I done?" face (13:41)

He even looks disappointed with himself.

After Blitzo drops Stolas off, he thanks him and tries to smooth over the awkwardness with sweet talk but Blitzo just rolls his eyes in disgust and pulls on his face like "I don't want to hear this bullshit".

He responds coldly and curtly, "Yeah." Stolas makes more suggestions to spend time with him, which just makes him even angrier and he snaps

"I'm not fucking you tonight, okay!

I'm really just..." (14:28)

he pauses to wipe a tear because at this point he can barely hold it together (top notch voice acting and animation directing btw)

"...not in the mood, Stolas."

Stolas still tries to talk him into doing couple things unrelated to sex.

Blitzo's face switches back to anger and frustration because Stolas isn't getting the message so he goes for the blunt tactic;

"Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but YOU wanting ME to fuck you, okay?"

(14:42)

"You make that really clear all the time."

(again his voice sounds like he's about to break down)

"But I-I just can't do it tonight, okay?"

(Finally meets his eye)

"...I'm sorry."

I believe this is code for "I'm sorry we're even in this situation and how your reputation got damaged. " Or, more painfully, "I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment to you".

Stolas replies "Okay" and takes a deep breath to compose himself. They say goodnight and depart.

An important note here is that Stolas calls him "Blitzo" instead of "Blitzy" to show more respect.

As Blitzo zooms away coldly, Stolas looks up at the sky with tears in his eyes, surprised at how much it hurts.

He then sits down with his head in his hands in anguish...because he's getting that

"Oh...no. These feelings are real" epiphany.

And as if this wasn't enough angst, Blitzo collapses onto his couch at home, goes through the memories on his phone and starts sobbing.

I'm going to be real with you; this is the most heart-breaking shit I have ever seen in an adult show of this type. It's also the first time a show of this type got me to cry.

The last six minutes have revealed so much information without spoonfeeding it to the audience because the show RESPECTS its audience.

To recap:

*Blitzo takes Stolas on a first official date to use him

*Stolas is extremely happy about it

*Blitzo gets humilated and looks to Stolas for validation

*Stolas betrays him and breaks his heart

*Blitzo snaps that their relationship is nothing more than lust-driven sex

*Stolas realizes he's actually in love with Blitzo and it's a huge problem because (he believes) that it's unrequited.

*Blitzo breaks down because the ONE person whom he thought would protect him didn't do so.

So these two are convinced that neither one loves the other...while the irony is, it's quite the opposite.

Because if Blitzo REALLY didn't feel anything towards Stolas, he would not have gotten this emotional.

Yes, they are both lonely...but I really don't think that's all there is between them.

So..........we know WHEN they started falling...now the question is why;

I think the answer's quite simple; single-target affection.

It was mentioned in S2 that Stolas and Stella did sleep together ONE TIME...but Stolas didn't enjoy it at all. He is stuck with a wife who hates him so much that she put a HIT on him...and a daughter who thinks he's a loser. Blitzo is pretty much the one person in his life who is able to make him happy. That one small, bright spot. He enjoys the sex with him but he also simply enjoys his company, as shown in Ozzie's episode. He is thrilled to simply talk to him about his day...and do anything else that couples do. They're complete opposites. Stolas is an intellectual but naive and sheltered. Blitzo is poorly educated but cynical and street-smart. Opposites attract...though this is likely more from Stolas's POV than Blitzo's.

In other words, Stolas is into bad boys xD lmao

In Blitzo's case, Stolas is the only character who shows him physical affection which he desperately craves. He's pretty tsundere about it most of the time...but I think he actually does enjoy that attention...especially when he's always getting disrespected by Moxxie and Loona..and quite a lot of people around him. BUT he's too scared to get serious with anyone because of past trauma and he also believes that no one could possibly love him as a person. :(

Reasons I Think This Love is Real

Aside from what I pointed out in the Ozzie's episode...there's quite a lot of evidence, esp from Stolas's POV.

After he realizes he's in love, he goes to Asomodeous for an ALTERNATIVE method for Blitzo to use so they will no longer sleep together. He wants to set Blitzo free. Which means he DOES truly love him because love is about being generous to the other person. He COULD be totally selfish about it but he isn't.

Asomodeous mentions how against love potions he is and Stolas agrees. He thinks that's out of the question.

'Look My Way' music video. Lol I don't have to say anything more.

In S2 E6 OOPS

This exchange at 16:57

Fizz: Seems your taste has gotten more 'regal', lately?

Blitz: Yeah, well unlike you, I fuck who I want WHEN I want. I'm not gonna be tied down to some big blue-blood asshole.

Fizz: You coulda fooled me the way Prince was cozying up to you at Ozzie's.

Blitz (gets very defensive) HEY! Stolas only cares about have a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his mattress, okay!

It's nothing...(gets hesistant and looks away)...you know...

(Fizz gives him a 'bitch please' look xD)

"it's nothing else."

Fizz: Then why were you even there?

Blitz: OTHER very important reasons of course.

Fizz: Whatever. I don't actually care.

Blitz: Stolas is just a loud, thirsty BITCH!

(Fizz is rolling his eyes again)

Blitz: He loves feeling the thrill of getting dicked by the lower class.

It's a novelty to him.

Fizz: LITERALLY just said I don't care!

Blitz: And then he'll call me and try to see how my day was!

And he'll pretend to care about me and comment on my photos laugh at my jokes...

Fizz: (Smirking) OH! That's definitely your clue right there that it's all bullshit!

Blitz: I KNOW, RIGHT??

Fizz: (Making a 'What in idiot' expression, shaking his head)

Blitz: HE'S JUST A FAKE, PRIVELEDGED ASSHOLE...

Fizz: Sounds like you just hate him for being a prince!

No one (laughs) and I mean NO ONE pretends to care that much just for a cheap lay.

All right. IF ANYONE knows what real love is like, it's Fizzaroli...who is in a very HEALTHY relationship with Asomodeous. He recognizes the signs because he's IN that place. He sees it...and he's annoyed that Blitzo keeps denying it and brushing it off...yet clearly can NOT stop talking about Stolas (amusing irony)

To sum up (this freaking essay lol) 'Stolitz' ABSOLUTELY has the potential to be pure and true...these two just need to communicate...or Stolas has to PROVE to Blitzo that he's serious about his feelings in another way.

There is no doubt that this ship is 100% endgame and is a case of the 'Earn Your Happy Ending' Trope. I look forward to the rest of the journey. Ron is putting my feelings about Stolitz in a perfect phrase:

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Purly got Arrested Fic

This is so not his fault. 

If he’s going down for it- and it definitely seems like he is, considering the holding cell the blond haired cop with the gross cologne is locking them into seems pretty hardcore- he just wants to make that very clear. This is not his fault. 

Ok, so maybe it was his idea. But it was the kind of good idea that seems great when he’s lying in the lot passing a joint back and forth with Curly, the same kind of good idea as buying a drink for a stranger when you’re drunk, or baiting Steve into a fight until you find out Evie’s mad at him- not an actual good idea. He, being a very rational, very smart individual, knew this. 

Curly, apparently, did not. And since Curly is like a dog with a bone, or like that freakish raccoon he feeds with a box of soggy McDonald’s fries, he refused to let it go. So they did it. 

In both of their defense, while it was stupid, it wasn’t something he thought they could be arrested for. Ok, that’s wasn’t exactly true, but it definitely wasn’t something he thought they’d get caught doing. Something tells him that defense isn’t exactly gonna go over well with Darry. Soda might have thought it was funny- if it hadn’t been Curly he was doing it with. 

Bullshit.

“One phone call boys.” Officer Dipshit Cologne reminds them with a frown, then crosses to sit at a desk on the side of the room opposite the holding cell. 

Just great.

It’s kind of anticlimactic all things considered. Two-bit and Steve tell such tuff stories of being hauled in that he’d thought he’d at least feel cool the first time he got arrested, but so far it’s just been like, super annoying and inconvenient. He doesn’t feel very cool. Mostly embarrassed. And kind of hungry. Darry is supposed to be making chicken tonight and he really hopes he can get outta here before dinnertime because Soda will steal his share if he isn’t there.

He sighs and exchanges a look with Curly.

“You gonna call Tim?”

Curly scoffs.

“Why bother? Bail is five bucks we don’t have, ‘specially since I'll be out tomorrow. ‘Sides, he bailed me out last month when I lit that fire in the park, so it’ll be at least half a year ‘fore he does anythin’ like that again.”

“Shit.”

“What?” Curly grins, entirely in his element. Hell, he almost looks more relaxed than usual, standing in this glorified cage, leaning against the bars without a care in the world. Ponyboy can’t decide whether the sight makes him want to punch him or snog the life out of him. It’s a familiar feeling at this point. “not lookin’ forward to callin’ good ol’ Darry?”

“Shut up,” Pony glares. Fuck, he definitely wants to kiss him. Stupid fucking Curly Shepard with his cocky grin and that catlike arrogance, driving him mad when he should actually be mad, “the second I call Darry is the second my life ends.”

He’ll be grounded for life for this. He’ll be forty years old and sitting bored out of his fucking mind in the living room while Darry glares at him from the armchair. Curly, unfortunately, is an asshole and so refuses to see the gravity of the situation. Instead, he fucking laughs.

So much for “solidarity” and “don’t worry it’ll be fun” and “I’ve got your back, so quit being a pussy and just fucking do it already.”

Bullshit.

“Quit bein’ dramatic.”

“Oh if you think it’s gonna be such a calm and collected conversation why don’t you call Darry and explain that we got arrested for public indecency.”

“I think they called it disturbin’ the peace when they was cuffin’ me actually.”

“Lucky you,” Ponyboy snarls, because yeah, okay, Curly did have his pants on when they got arrested, but he definitely hadn’t had them on when that old lady called the cops, so really, they should both be getting the indecency charge. 

Bullshit.

“Real talk though,” Curly says, “I don’t mind callin’ Darry for you. The big man loves me.”

“Do not.” 

Darry was actually being like, really cool about his friendship with Curly but this whole incident would change that. And don’t even get him started on what would happen if Curly called the house and Soda answered. Then the holding cell would be a blessing, simply because Soda couldn’t commit a murder if Curly was already locked up.

“Well unless you’re fixin’ to stay here overnight and cuddle, one of us has gotta call someone.”

“What about Angela?”

“What about her?” Curly props his elbow on Pony’s shoulder.

“Would she come get us?”

“Hmm,” Curly considers it, “she might come get me. She owes me for helpin’ her sneak out without Tim catchin’ her last week, but she definitely won’t come for you.”

He’s right. Ponyboy knows he’s right because he and Angela kind of can’t fucking stand each other. He wouldn’t bail her out, not even for Curly’s sake, so it makes sense she wouldn’t bail him out either. Still, it’s fucking rude.

“You could call Matthews,” Curly suggests, “bet he’d be cool about it.”

“I gotta better chance of gettin’ the president on the line than Two-bit.”

“Guess you’re shit outta luck then,” Curly shrugs, beckoning him over to the bench on the other side of the cell. There’s a greasy looking guy passed out drunk leaning against it, so they take a seat on the opposite side, “you can always just stay the night with me. We could get real cozy if y’know what I mean?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Pony swats at him. Dealing with Curly, he’s learned, requires skills not unlike those one would need to tame a rabid dog or a toddler on crack. Which, given Curly’s upbringing, may have been something that happened once or twice. 

“I can’t not go home,” Ponyboy reminds him, “they’ll lose their shit.”

Which is fair. After Windrixville and Johnny and Dal it makes sense that Darry and Soda go apeshit when he’s late for curfew and doesn’t call ahead, which is why he tries his very best to keep them informed. Still. This is not a situation he is looking forward to informing them of.

“Aren’t they gonna lose their shit anyway?”

“Well yeah, but it’d definitely be worse if I don’t go home tonight and then they find out it’s because I was arrested.”

“I mean,” Curly points out, “you wouldn’t have to tell them.”

Shows what he knows. Curly has never had to sit on the couch with Darry using his freaky mind reading powers and Soda’s huge disappointed eyes boring into him to get him to confess to maybe, hypothetically, potentially cussing his teacher out in science class. Those two can get him to be more truthful than a polygraph. It’s so annoying.

“Yes I would. And I can’t not call. I just…I can’t.”

Curly seems to finally get it because his eyes light in understanding and he headbuts him in the shoulder. It’s kind of sweet.

“Better do it sooner than later then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Pony sighs, waving the cop over, slapping a hand over Curly’s mouth when the other boy goes to say something because he knows that look in Curly’s eye. It’s the same look he had when he told their gym teacher his shitty attitude probably wasn’t why his wife left him it was his looks.

Two minutes later he’s standing in front of the phone, that cop- who’s cologne is still terrible and giving him a headache- practically breathing down his neck, and wondering if he’s really going to go through with this. 

The cop clears his throat and that’s when Pony realizes that yes, he is indeed going to do this, because he does not have a choice.

Sighing, and refusing to glance at where Curly is audibly laughing at him in the holding cell, he carefully dials the number. Of course the first  number is a nine so he has to watch as the rotary phone slowly winds back to zero before he can wind it over to the six.

Finally, the dial tone sounds in his ear. It rings once. Twice. Three times. He’s just starting to worry that maybe no one is home when he hears a click and Darry’s smooth baritone filters through the speaker. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Darry,” his voice comes out a lot squeakier than he hoped and he fights to keep his feet from fidgeting. That cop had made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, and much as he’d never admit it, he was still kind of scared of cops, maybe even more so after Windrixville. 

“Ponyboy?” He can hear the slight concern in Darry’s voice. It’s an odd time for him to be calling, considering it isn’t even six yet and curfew is still hours away. “Everything ok?”

“I need you to come pick me up.”

“Okay…” Darry sounds almost suspicious now. He can hear hollering in the background- probably Steve and Two-bit arguing over the tv. “Where are you?”

“Don’t get mad.” Pony begs, and apparently it’s the wrong thing to say.

“What did you do?” Darry isn’t shouting- he’s a lot better about that now- but the resigned exhaustion in his voice is almost worse.

“Nothing!”

“Ponyboy,” Darry warns and it’s his I-swear-to-god-kid-you’re-gonna-send-me-to-an-early-grave voice, “where are you?”

“Before I answer that I need you to think about how good I’ve been lately. Straight As at school, track awards, hell, I even did the dishes yesterday even though it was Soda’s turn-”

“-You got arrested, didn’t you?” Darry cuts him off and Pony has to hand it to him, in the past year, ever since they got close again, Darry really has learned to read him like a book. 

“...yes.”

Darry sighs. It’s world weary, but if Pony didn’t know better he’d swear there was an undercurrent of amusement there. The arguing in the background has abruptly cut off, which is kind of rude. He’s just as tough as the rest of them. Him getting arrested shouldn’t be this surprising.

“What did you do?”

“Before I tell you I need you to keep an open mind-”

“-Nevermind.” Darry cuts him off again, firmly, “just…what’s the charge?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Pony admits, “they said public indecency when they were cuffing me, but Curly swears it’ll only count as disturbing the peace-”

“If I get down there and you don’t have pants on so help me god, Ponyboy-”

“Cool it Dar,” he rolls his eyes, “the cops let me put them back on before they cuffed me.”

“Jesus christ,” he can almost see Darry through the phone, resting his forehead against the wall and rubbing his eyes, “you better have a damn good explanation for this.”

Good? Maybe not. Interesting? Definitely. Not that he was about to say that. This was going better than he could’ve hoped, all things considered, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Darry continues, “don’t answer any questions and don’t do anything stupid- scratch that, don’t do anything else stupid. And tell that friend of yours I’ll be payin’ Tim a visit on my way over.”

The line goes dead. 

He can’t help but grin as he places the phone back on the receiver. Sure, he’s still in huge trouble but that went like, so much better than he’d imagined. Hell, his grounding might even be lifted before he graduates.

As the cop walks him back over to the holding cell he can’t help but hope Soda wasn’t home to hear the aftermath of that particular phone call. Not that he thinks Soda won’t support him, but if Darry mentions Curly then the chances of him making this whole thing a lot more of an issue than it needs to be are 1000x higher. 

“Well?” Curly grins as soon as the door clanks shut behind him, Officer Dipshit Cologne’s key jangling in the lock, “How’d he take it?”

“He said he’s stoppin’ to talk to Tim on his way over here,” Pony tells him, hoping to wipe that smug look of Curly’s face, “so don’t get too comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Curly snorts, stretching out on the bench, “Ponykid, this place is practically my second home at this point. ‘Sides, I already told you Tim ain’t comin’, not for somethin’ like this.”

“He might if Darry asks him to.” Pony points out. Curly doesn’t deign to answer. It doesn’t matter: they both know he’s right, even if Curly doesn’t want to admit it.

“Move over will ya?” Pony nudges Curly into a sitting position, taking a seat next to him on the bench. 

Curly elbows him back because he’s a menace.

Pony shoves him.

Curly hip checks him, hard enough he almost falls off the bench.

Pony tackles him. 

Then they’re really wrestling, rolling around on the concrete floor. Curly smells like Marlboro cigarettes and dirt and cheap shampoo, but somehow it works. They’ve rolled a bit, bit Curly’s got him pinned right now, and jus like every time they fight its unlike fighting anyone else. He’s hyper aware of everywhere Curly’s body is pressed against his- knees bracketed on either side of his hips, one hand pinning his shoulders down, the other reaching to smack at him half heartedly, in a way Pony knows is Curly’s version of playful.

He loves it, and like every time they tussle like this, he kind of also wants to explode.

“Hey!” Officer Dipshit Cologne rattled the door of the cell, “Knock it off you two!”

Ponyboy and Curly exchange a look and burst out laughing. Curly climbs off him, pulling Pony to his feet and the collapse on the bench together. 

Their mirth doesn’t last long.

“Ponyboy Curtis!” A second later Darry Curtis is striding into the station, green flannel tucked into his jeans in an attempt to look respectable, wearing his best ‘responsible adult’ face, and Ponyboy remembers he is still in so much trouble. “I’m here for my brother, Ponboy Curtus.”

Beside him, Curly has gone stiff. 

“No way,” he mutters, looking like he had that time they explored the old Bronsen house on halloween- that is to say, like he’d seen a ghost, “theres no fucking way…”

Ponyboy looks up and sees what stopped Curly in his tracks. Tim Shepard, as grim faced and dangerous looking as ever, prowling after Darry like a panther.

Pony shoot Curly a smug look. Curly swats at him without taking his eyes off his brother.

“This ain’t good…” he mutters, as Tim starts talking to Officer Dipshit Cologne alongside Darry.

“Sure ain’t.” Ponyboy agrees as the officer marches toward the cell, Darry and Tim at his heels. Golly they look pissed.

“Wanna make a run for it?”

“Fuck no,” Pony murmurs back, “I’m already in enough shit as it is.”

“You fuckin’ dumbass,” Tim barks as soon as the door’s unlocked, and he seizes Curly by the ear, ignoring his pained yelp as he half drags him out of the police station, scolding him in rapid fire spanish. Pony doesn’t understand much but his name gets thrown in there a few times and he can’t help but wince. The last thing he needs is to be on Tim Shepard’s shit list.

Darry doesn’t look too happy but he doesn’t look near as mad as Tim. Pony thanks his lucky stars for that.

‘C’mon kiddo,” Darry jerks his head, “let’s go.”

Pony follows him out to the truck, explains the thought process behind stripping down and trying to steal the coins in the fountain at the park because it seemed like there’d be enough for cigarettes and movie snacks. He pretends he doesn’t know what Darry means when he tells him he of all people needs to be careful about indecency charges, while his cheeks heat and Darry gives him terrified, significant, half pleading looks. 

Still, he can’t bring himself to regret any of it. Not even when Soda spends half an hour ranting to him about how Curly is the spawn of the devil on earth. Not even when Steve laughs at him about why he got arrested.

Like everything when it comes to Curly, it was just too much fun to regret. 

[onlinesuzie]

HAMZAH REQUEST: argument fic w fluff make out after love me some angst ty!

♡ confronting hamzah about his time away from you ♡

words: 1.8k

summary: Hamzah was passionate about his work, spending countless hours filming and editing to ensure every detail was perfect. But as his dedication to his videos grew, so did the distance between you and him.

notes: i usually hate writing angst but this submission made me want to try it so i hope you like it!! also i am a sucker for hamzah asking for a little kiss so i just had to add that!!

☆

Hamzah’s deep brown eyes always sparkled with excitement whenever he talked about his latest project. With his brown curly hair framing his face, often tousled from running his hands through it during long editing sessions. His tan skin, a warm golden hue, glowed under the harsh blue light, though dark circles had begun to appear under his eyes from many sleepless nights.

You were very proud of Hamzah’s success. You loved seeing the joy his videos brought to his audience, but the late nights and missed dinners were taking their toll. What once felt like a shared journey now seemed like a lonely path. Tonight, as you set the table for a special dinner, the clock ticked away the minutes of your patience.

Hamzah was late again.

The dinner grew cold as you sat in silence, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the empty chair across from you. You had planned a special evening, hoping to reconnect after weeks of feeling alone. But as the hours passed, your frustration turned to anger.

Finally, the front door creaked open. Hamzah entered, his face alight with excitement, clutching his camera.

“You won’t believe how funny Martin was today! It’s going to be our best video yet,” he said, oblivious to your simmering anger.

“Hamzah, do you even know what time it is?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

He opened up his phone, checking the time and noticing the several missed calls, his smile fading. “Oh… I lost track of time. I’m sorry, my love. But you should see this clip—”

“I don’t care about the clip!” you interrupted, standing up from the table. “You’re always late, always busy with your videos. Do you even care about us anymore?”

Hamzah’s face fell, his excitement replaced by confusion and defensiveness. “Of course I care about us. This is for us, for our future. Can’t you see how important this is?”

“Important? Hamzah, you’re never here! I feel like I’m living alone. We never talk, we never spend time together. I’m tired of feeling left out.”

“I thought you’d be proud of me,” Hamzah shot back, his voice rising. “I’m building something here. Something that makes us a stable income. Can’t you see that?”

“I am proud of you! But what’s the point of all this if me and you are falling apart?” Your voice broke, the frustration spilling out. “I just want to spend time with you, Hamzah. Is that too much to ask?”

“You think I don’t want that too?” he retorted. “I’m doing this for us, so we can have a better future. But it’s like you don’t even appreciate how hard I’m working.”

“Appreciate? I appreciate you, Hamzah. But I need you here, with me, not lost in your work all the time. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?”

“We are a team,” he insisted. “But you need to understand, this isn’t just a hobby. This is my career. Our career. You should be supporting me.”

“I do support you,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “But I can’t support something that’s tearing us apart.”

The argument escalated, emotions running high. Words flew back and forth, each one more hurtful than the last. You voiced every grievance, every moment of loneliness you had felt. Hamzah tried to defend himself, explaining the pressures of maintaining his online presence, but his words only fueled your anger.

“You don’t get it,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t care about your subscribers or your videos. I care about you. I miss you.”

The room fell silent, your words hanging in the air. Hamzah stood there, the weight of your feelings finally sinking in. He stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I thought I was doing this for us, but I see now that I’ve been pushing you away.”

You looked up at him, your anger fading as you saw the regret in his eyes. “I just want us to be okay, Hamzah. I want to feel like we’re a team again.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. “We are a team. And I promise I’ll do better. I’ll find a way to balance my work and our relationship. You’re more important to me than any video.”

The sincerity in his voice melted the remaining tension. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him, and he held you tight. As you looked into his eyes, you saw the love that had always been there, just buried under the stress and excitement of his career.

“I love you,” you whispered, and he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

Hamzah was breathtakingly beautiful, and you had missed him this way. His eyes were locked onto yours, conveying a depth of emotion words could never capture. You had always admired his determination and drive, but in this moment, all you wanted was him, here with you, present and loving.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you murmured against his lips, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you, Hamzah.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Later into the night, it was quiet, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You and Hamzah lay on the couch, entwined, the warmth of his body a comfort you hadn't realized you needed so badly. Yet, even in this moment of closeness, a sense of unease lingered. You knew the fight wasn't over, that deeper issues lay beneath the surface, waiting to be addressed.

As you traced your fingers along the curve of Hamzah’s jaw, you could see the exhaustion etched into his features. The dark circles under his eyes told the story of countless late nights spent editing videos, chasing a dream that seemed to be pulling him further away from you.

“Hamzah,” you began softly, not wanting to shatter the fragile peace that had settled between you, “I’m scared.”

He looked at you, his brown eyes concerned. “Scared of what?”

“I’m scared that we’re losing each other,” you confessed. “That your career is becoming more important than us. I know you love what you do, and I love seeing you happy, but I need to know that we still matter to you.”

Hamzah sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “You do matter. More than anything. But I feel like I’m caught between two worlds. I want to give you everything, but I also love my job and don’t want to lose the opportunity I’ve ended up with.”

“I understand that,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I don’t want to be the one always left behind. We need to find a balance, Hamzah. I need to feel like I’m a part of your world, not just an afterthought.”

He pulled you closer, his embrace strong yet tender. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my work that I forgot the most important part of my life – you. I promise I’ll do better.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I miss us, Hamzah. I miss the way things used to be.”

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Then let’s make a change. Let’s set some boundaries. No more late nights unless it’s absolutely necessary. And I’ll make sure we have our time together, no matter what.”

You nodded, a glimmer of hope igniting within you. “Okay. But we have to stick to it, Hamzah. We can’t keep going like this.”

“I know,” he said, his voice firm with determination. “I want this to work. I want us to work.”

As you shared this intimate moment, the tension that had filled the room began to dissipate, replaced by a deep longing for each other. Your heart raced as you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Hamzah’s eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of regret and desire.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and filled with vulnerability.

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he closed the distance. His lips closed the distance between you.

Hamzah’s hands held to your waist, pulling you closer as he traced your lips with his tongue. You responded eagerly, opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding your fingers into his soft curls. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart beat faster. It felt as though the world around you had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble of passion.

You could taste the salt of his skin and the sweetness of his breath as you kissed him deeply, exploring the familiar contours of his mouth. Every touch, every sigh, seemed to bring you closer, healing the wounds that had formed between you during the argument.

Hamzah’s hands traveled down your back, pulling you even tighter against him as if he never wanted to let go. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and every brush of his fingers gave you goosebumps. The kiss grew more intense, filled with all the pent-up emotions of longing, frustration, and love.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you breathed, pulling away just enough to catch your breath, your hands resting on his chest.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I never want to lose you.”

As you resumed kissing, it was as if you were both reaffirming your commitment to each other. The softness of his lips against yours felt like a promise, a vow that no matter how busy life got, you would always find your way back to one another. You kissed with intensity, pouring all your love and desperation into each moment.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in each other. Every moment spent in his arms felt like a step towards reclaiming what you both had nearly lost. The passion of the kiss made you realize just how important your connection was, how deep your love ran.

Eventually, you pulled back slightly, both of you breathless, the realization of how much you needed each other settling in.

“Let’s not wait until we’re fighting to remember this,” you said softly, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“Agreed,” Hamzah replied, his expression serious yet tender. “I promise to always make time for us, no matter what.”

As you nestled into his embrace once more, the world outside seemed to fade away. The promise of a new beginning hung in the air, and with every heartbeat, you felt a renewed sense of hope. You knew that no matter the challenges ahead, you and Hamzah would face them together—united, passionate, and very much in love.

With hearts intertwined, you both finally surrendered to the exhaustion of the day, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms, ready to embrace the future hand in hand.

[callahanisms]

b tier

honestly, only i can be watching a b horror movie about killer bees and go "i should write something for patrick with this in the background."

character: patrick zweig

context: uhhh...let's say late 2018/early 2019

being a publicist was exhausting.

not that you didn't like your job. no, you loved it. it was just that working for tashi duncan and art donaldson could be very tiring. there were a lot of things you had to do and organize especially for the foundation.

they were your friends, from way back in stanford. you would've froze hell over to make what they wanted happen.

but gradually, you've been worn down.

a series of bad relationships, namely. how many girls and guys and people you've dated who, in the end, just wanted to get closer to the tashi duncan, the art donaldson. the power couple.

the worst one was probably patrick zweig.

you didn't know if he actually liked you or if he just wanted you so he could somehow get in proximity to art and tashi.

or maybe he was trying to satiate his desire for both. after all, you had brief relationships with both tashi and art back in college. perhaps he only wanted you because tashi and art lingered on you. almost literally in a sense because they signed off your checks and you were lily's godparent.

you were very surprised when there was a knock on your door and you look at the time on your clock. 11:30pm. who was knocking on your door this late?

it certainly wasn't tashi or art. especially art. he's usually in bed by this time.

you don't bother to pause your movie. you've seen it millions of times before. you walk over to the front door of your apartment and peer into the peep hole.

"what the...!"

you unlock the deadbolt, but keep the chain lock in place, and open the door. "what the fuck do you want."

"good to see you too." patrick's got that smug grin on his face. but he looks worse for wear. his clothes are disheveled. there are dark circles beneath his eyes. he doesn't have that bright glow to his face. or at least, the last time you saw him.

"how did you get my address?"

"google."

"that's not very funny patrick."

"okay, okay." he puts his hands up in defense. you notice his bags on the ground behind him. "a friend of yours. jace?"

"jace? oh jace you!" you'd curse out your friend later. in all fairness, you never told jace about patrick. in fact, you didn't really talk about your love life with your friends. you kept it under wraps, especially since it's gone poorly.

"what do you want?" you already knew. but you wanted to hear it from his mouth.

"well...i'm in town. i thought we could reconnect." you notice that he's picking at his fingers. similar to how art did. even in adulthood after they were separated, they still mirrored each other's movements, had each other's habits.

"fuck off patrick. i'm not interested in being your mutual connection." you're ready to close the door.

"wait, wait!" he takes half a step forward, putting his hand on your door. he looks at you, his eyes soft. pleading.

patrick contemplates if he should just get on his knees and beg. he glances away for a second, taking in the clean look of the apartment building you lived in. his tongue licks his bottom lip and he rubs his face with his hand.

"i...i need a place to stay."

"look for some rando on tinder then."

"please. (y/n)." his voice is soft.

you hated that you had a soft spot for patrick zweig.

as much as you didn't like him, you missed the electricity of his kiss, his brash behavior, and the softness of his aftercare. he was surprisingly very good at it.

you also weren't one to turn someone away if they needed care.

patrick takes a step back when you close the door. but he hears you moving the chain lock and the door fully opens. "get inside."

"you're a lifesaver." he grabs his bags and steps into your apartment, removing his shoes as to not track dirt further into your home.

you lock the door once again. "you look like garbage. go take a shower."

patrick didn't like doing what he was told. but this was your home. "alright."

"and when was the last time you ate?" he takes too long to respond. "just shower."

"alright, alright."

when patrick emerges from the shower, he finds a pair of silk pajamas folded neatly in your bedroom. he makes sure he's completely dry and moisturized before putting on his underwear and the pajamas.

he walks out of the bedroom and his eyes first go to the tv. he lets out a small laugh seeing a slug bite a man. the movie quality was clearly bad.

and then there you are in the kitchen, making pancakes and a strawberry sauce to go with it. as well as two mugs with steam coming out of them.

"a homecooked meal? how generous."

"shut up. i was getting hungry." it was cute when you tried to brush him off.

he walks over and picks up the box. "trader joe's strawberries and creme pancake and waffle mix. with sweetened dried strawberry and white chocolatey chips." he sets the box down.

"it's pretty good, actually." you hand him one of the mugs. he takes in and breathes in the smell. it's lemony and sweet. "hope some citron tea is good with you."

"it's perfect, actually." he leans against the counter, taking a careful sip. "so what are you watching?"

"slugs. it's a movie from 1988."

"you've always liked bad horror movies."

"well...seems i have a taste for...b tier things."

"what's that supposed to mean?" he looks at you, watching the way you work.

"i don't think you need me to spell it out." you flip the pancake with ease before turning off the stove.

"think you've been spending too much time up art's ass."

"well if i wasn't up art's ass, then you wouldn't be here, would you? you'd probably be sleeping in your car right now. or crashing at some poor tinder date's place." you pour the sauce into a separate bowl.

he couldn't deny that. art and tashi put food on your table, a roof over your head, paid for your bills. you had no choice but to be up their asses.

the two of you eat in silence. patrick wants to say something, but your attention is more focused on the movie. somehow you're able to eat while watching two teenagers get eaten alive by slugs. complete with ooey gooey 80s special effects.

he does his best to help you clean up, but you swat his hand away when he tries. so he settles for just watching you clean up. you were always territorial in the kitchen, preferring to do things a certain way and keep things in a specific order. he could see just why you got along well with tashi and art. your discipline matched theirs.

and he had no discipline.

when you're done, you wash your hands then place the pod in the little compartment in the dishwasher, making sure it was closed all the way. you close the dishwasher and turned the dial to the second setting, hearing it lock into place.

"you'll be sleeping on the couch. i'll set things up after the movie is done." you say, walking over and sitting back down. you grab your blanket and lay it over your lap and legs.

patrick looks at how cozy you are. and for a second, he thinks about just how cozy life with you could be. money, cooked meals, a warm bed. a publicist that can get him back on track to greatness.

he sits down on the couch, leaning back into the cushions. he's close to you. you have no doubt that he sat there on purpose.

"so what is this movie even about?"

"slugs eating people, duh." your eyes don't leave the tv screen.

patrick notices the way you slightly lean forward during the scene. the man is eating dinner and he's got a raging headache. he manages to stop his nose from bleeding in the bathroom. then when he takes a sip of his drink, his nose bleeds again into the drink. he cries out, holding his head. and then his eyes pop. blood splatters everywhere. thin worms emerge and wriggle around from his socket. his body falls to the ground.

"i love this scene so much."

"really? i couldn't tell." he says sarcastically.

"it's a good scene." you lean back. "not that you would know. you have terrible taste in movies."

"hey, hey. do not insult my taste in movies. you're the one watching b tier horror movies. and you're the one who has a taste for the shittier things in life."

"yeah? like you."

patrick leans forward, nearly pressing you against the couch cushions. "that's not what i interpreted last time."

"last time was a moment of weakness." you look at him. "i was craving something fast and easy. that's what you are patrick. fast food."

his lips curl into a smirk.

was he getting off to that?

"and you can't help but come back for more~"

your eyes glance down at his lips. and even in baggy silk pajamas, he looked good.

unfortunately, patrick zweig was hot.

"go fuck yourself." you cup his face with both of your hands and slam your lips on his.

patrick kisses back with just as much fervor, gripping onto your waist and pulling you on top of him. he lays down on the couch, groaning when he feels you grind your crotch against his. "fuck!" he groans. you always knew how to turn him on.

your fingers trail down to start unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest. your hands feel his muscles. "i hate that you're so fucking hot." you groan as you roughly kiss down his neck and to his chest.

"yeah, yeah. you can't stand me. and yet." patrick's hands go to your ass and he digs his fingers into the plush skin. hard. you can't help but let out a moan at the sensation, shivers of pleasure running up your spine.

he turns his head to give you more access, his eyes landing on the tv. "you mind if we...uh, pause? or something?"

"what? don't wanna watch slugs eat people while we fuck? we've arguably had worse movies on in the background." your tongue darts out, gliding along the skin of his collarbone. patrick shivers beneath you.

"(y/n), please." he moans. "don't make me beg."

"what if i want to make you beg?" your hand trails down, rubbing him through his pants and boxers. he gasps, mouth wide open. "you're always so cute when you beg."

"s-shit! (y/n)!" he moans.

he moans so cutely that you can't help yourself.

"alright. fine." you grab the remote and pause the movie, tossing it back onto the coffee table. "now where were we?"