#wills just a little weirdo

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Imagine Rebecca introducing Renfield to Grindr after the end of the movie and trying to help him get back in the dating game.

[vendettapandav]

idk man, not wanting to interact with media just bc the creator of said media said "hey, i put a lot of time and effort into this thing i made and i would appreciate if you respected my wishes and didn't sexualize the concept or the characters in it" is a weird hill to die on

[adreamfromnevermore]

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

[terrestrialnoob]

Continuation from Part 1

Jazz took a deep breath. It's going to be fine. She can be normal for one night. Even if Harley is willing to befriend weirdos on a whim she doubted anyone else would. The shadow beneath her feed rolled like boiling tar and emotions that weren't hers poked at her mind.

"It's okay, Jet. They're not going to hurt me. I'm just... nervous."

She took another deep breath, she'd been told to ignore the closed sign, and entered the Coal Mine. She wasn't sure what she was expecting with a name like that, but it looked like a normal, if kinda rustic bar. It was empty except for a blonde woman in the back of the room, setting up a big table with food and drinks.

"Sorry, we're closed to the pub-" She started speaking before she looked up, stopping once she saw Jazz. "Oh! You must be Jazz, Harley's new friend.... You're early."

Jazz's face turned a little red but she stomped down her unease. "Yep! That's me. Early bird Jazz."

The blonde woman laughed wholeheartedly, but Jazz didn't think her joke was that funny. The woman walked over to her, "I'm Dinah, welcome to my bar. I don't often host girls night, but you got lucky."

Jazz shook her offered hand. "It's a nice place!" Though, Jazz didn't really go to bars. She didn't drink a lot and bars weren't really her scene.

"Feel free to grab a snack, grab a drink. I'm going to finish getting ready. Everyone else tends to be late. Which I guess means you're not early, you're here when we asked you."

"Oh, alright! I'll remember to be late next time." Why did she say that? That's so stupid and rude.... But Dinah laughed again. "Right, um, if it's okay, I did bring something." Jazz offered the plastic bag she decided to reuse with a tray of fudge she made inside it.

"Oh, that looks good. I'll go get a knife and plate to set it out with the other snacks."

Jazz more or less sat in awkward silence as Dinah did her thing getting ready. She wanted to offer to help, but this is Dinah's bar. If anyone else was there, Jazz wouldn't feel the need to help, and she didn't want to get in the way. But this was a private party, so maybe Jazz should offer to help. Just to carry stuff to the table or-

Then the door opened again and two women came through. One was in an expensive looking leather jacket and with short brown hair and the other had a cheap looking leather jacket with long brown hair. The short haired woman started talking before she was even all the way through the door. "Dinah, you would not believe how bad traffic is downtown today. An entire hour to get from 19th to- oh, hello."

Jazz jumped to her feet when the woman addressed her. "Hi, I'm Jazz."

"Selina." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"Harley invited her." The long haired woman said. "You really should read the texts."

"I don't want to set a precedent."

"Still." The long haired woman nodded towards Jazz. "Name's Helena."

"It's nice to meet you." Jazz said with a smile, but it started to slip at the sight of Selina.

Selina gave her a hard look, sizing her up, judging. "You're Harley's friend?"

Jazz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "She's been to my apartment... and invited me here."

There was a beat of silence before Selina gave an amused huff and said, "You do seem like her type."

Dinah laughed again - maybe she was just easy to make laugh. The two walked over to the table and Selina's eyes immediately settled on the fudge. She opened her mouth to comment but the door opened again and Harley burst through, pulling someone behind her.

"We're here! I even got a special something for- Jazz! You're here already!" She turned to the woman behind her and quickly pushed something into her hands before rounding back to the rest in the room. "Heya Jazzy! I'm happy you could make it! This is my wife - Ivy."

Ivy stepped forward and eyed Jazz with more curiosity than the suspicion Selina had or Helena's indifference or Dinah's more welcoming demeanor. "It's nice to meet you. Harley told me about her little visit to your home. You look... normal."

Jazz knew her face was even redder than before. "Well, normal is the goal, right?"

There was a beat when the other's in the room just seemed to stare at her. Harley barked out her own harsh laughter, "Not here it ain't!"

"O-oh..." Jazz didn't have a frame of reference for this. If normal wasn't what they wanted, then what did they want? Eccentric scientist like her parents? Harley was a vigilante, maybe that's what she should emulate?

"Don't worry." Ivy said as she passed Jazz to sit at the table, a potted plant on a nearby windowsill suddenly, and far too quickly, bloomed. "From what I've heard, I'm sure you'll fit in."

"Harley said that too. I'm just worried. I've never had my own friends before." Oh, shit, she shouldn't have said that. Only weirdos don't have friends.

"Same." Ivy said and picked up a piece of Jazz's fudge.

"Here too." Helena added, and gave the piece of fudge she'd been holding for a while a curious look. It must be unusual for everyone to react this way.

"IS THAT FUDGE? I love fudge!" Harley said and grabbed a handful to stuff in her mouth. "This is so good! Where'd it come from?"

"Oh. I made it. Didn't want to come empty handed, you know." Jazz said, joining the other's at the table and taking her own piece before Harley ate it all. "It's my mom's recipe, but it doesn't quite taste the same without the low-level radiation."

"Oh, you have to put the radiation in it next time!"

"Do not do that." Three other women at the table said in almost unison. Oddly enough, it was Helena who didn't join in.

"Why was there radiation in your mother's fudge?" Selina asked as Dinah started to deal out cards.

"My parents are kinda mad scientists - kinda also mad occultists. All the food in the house was contaminated, and part of the reason my brother and I are vegetarian." Jack and three.

Dinah seemed to loose her breath before wheezing out, "Even more the same."

"What?"

"I'm also a vegetarian, mainly because of the environmental nightmare farming is." Ivy supplied, she bet conservatively.

"Right, that's why my brother's friend is vegan."

"Wait, how does the contamination equate to being vegetarian?" Helena asked - getting excited as Dinah reveals the flop, a good hand then. "Did it make meat taste bad or...?

"Oh, it brought it to life." Jazz said as she traded a card. "I can't tell you how many reanimated headless turkeys and chickens I had to kill. Not to mention the hotdogs Dad trained to attack intruders, they also attacked friends and visitors too. That was too much, even for Spike."

"Holy shit, that's amazing." Harley said while Ivy and Selina looked horrified, Dinah was as entertained as Harley, and Helena was enjoying herself. "Can't say I've ever fought reanimated deli meats."

"Bruce has." Selina commented, and directed at Jazz, "My long-term boyfriend. Thought about marrying him for a little while, but it didn't really suit either of our lifestyles."

No animosity, only relief. Jazz smiled at her, "Different people have different needs. Not everyone needs to be married with children."

Dinah laughed, "And boy, does Bruce have children! How many does he have now? Six? Seven? I thought I read on the news he's got a new one."

"Technically yes, but he's just fostering Duke, not adopting. Once his parents are well again, he'll want to go home." Selina saw Jazz's curious face, but deflected to lighter gossip. "I'm not the motherly type, not that I'd be cruel to any kids I could possibly have especially if they're Bruce's-" She sighed "-but Bruce lives for his kids. He has four adopted children, one biological child from another woman - it's fine, we both have our fun - and two foster children.... I think."

"You're not sure?" Helena questioned. Dinah put out another card.

"I think Steph is a foster, but I never saw the paperwork for it. At the very least, she's living in his house." Selina said, then stared at Ivy. "Not getting lucky, dear?"

Ivy sneered and put her cards down. "I don't even know why I agree to this game."

"Is it the one game all night, or do you do other stuff?" Jazz asked. She's good at poker. Between her enhanced empathy and psychology degree, she was rarely fooled.

"Depends on the place. Dinah likes poker, so we play it when she hosts." Helena said, she looked at Jazz, then Harley and folded her cards. "And we quit when Harley wins all our money and play something else."

"That's right baby!" Harley cheered and slammed her cards face up on the table, "No one beats the Harley!"

Jazz and Selina put their cards down too, face up.

"I guess there are exceptions..." Harley said with a mischievous grin.

Selina grinned too, "Someone has to loose all of Bruce's money."

Jazz grinned as the pot was pushed her direction. "Well, then let me know when it gets boring of just me and Harley playing."

The entire table laughed. Yeah, Jazz was starting to feel like she really would fit in here.

[monicahar]

“thanks for the flowers!”

“what flowers?”

in which they find out you receive a gift from someone that isn't them.

characters; wanderer, alhaitham, kaveh

; i keep seeing that damn tiktok 😐 gender neutral reader, fluff, crack,

WANDERER eyes you skeptically, suspicion being evident on his pale features as he scans your expression up and down. has he already caught on to your little prank?

“first of all, who in their right mind would court you? and with some sappy flowers as well?”

you return his unamused gaze, finding him very unfunny.

“you do know that you're dating me, right?”

“unfortunately.” he clicks his tongue, further leaning towards your face, brows still furrowed as if he's trying to decipher something, gazing at you with an unreadable expression that has your resolve crumbling. “is this another one of your antics to get a rise out of me? if so, it's not working.”

his lips break out into a grin upon watching your eyes widen. but your shock doesn't last long—him immediately seeing through your silly scheme isn't an unexpected outcome, funnily enough.

“you're too serious sometimes.” you pout at him whilst he scoffs, “just humor me. what would you actually do if i managed to receive flowers from another?”

“it's simple—you can't.” comes his swift and confident reply, offending you as you stare at him incredulously, weighing the implication of his words.

“you speak of me like i'm the most unattractive person in teyvat—what do you mean i can't?”

“you're an idiot. would i have really chosen you if you were unattractive in any way?” he crosses his arms before facing you completely, indigo hues staring directly into yours.

“i already eliminated all those who dare steal you from me.”

...?

you freeze on the spot, processing what you've just heard.

“...excuse me?”

“—just kidding. i'm no longer that type of person, hah.” he huffs out a derisive laugh, yet his humorous farce does not meet his eyes.

not finding any comfort in his supposed testament of it only being a joke, you opt to stare at him confusingly in return. weirdo.

ALHAITHAM, much like the wanderer, catches on to the prank immediately. whether it's intuition, scarily precise deduction or just the way you generally act weird when it comes to lying to his face—he still figured you out in the end like it's nothing.

but unlike the wanderer, he decides to humor you and play along. what a good boyfriend.

“...you mean you didn't give me the flowers?” you flutter your lashes at him, a horrible and terribly inefficient way to convince him that the whole thing with the flowers is actually real. alhaitham suddenly has the rare urge to laugh. since when did you act like this?

alhaitham shifts in his seat. “no. who do you think it's from?”

“hm.” you hum thoughtfully, bringing a finger to your chin as if in deep thought. the scribe briefly wonders how far you're willing to take this joke. but he digresses—the chances of him actually getting mad at you are akin to that of kaveh finally shutting up—

“maybe kaveh? he grew an interest in flowers recently, so i've heard. maybe he sent some as like a sign of friendship or something along those lines...there's no way it means something else, riiiiiight?”

alhaitham pauses his train of thought.

speak of the devil.

momentarily doubting his conclusion that you're just pulling a prank, he quietly glowers at you as if silently telling you to take back your words.

“what about him?”

you immediately cower upon the drop in his tone—raising your arms in defense when alhaitham moves to stalk closer to you. “i was joking! i didn't get any flowers from anyone and last time i conversed with kaveh was when i—”

“let's go.” he grabs the back of your collar and drags you along, a newfound heavy weight in his footsteps as an indescribable and uncomfortable feeling creeps up on his neck.

“i really was just joking, 'haitham! i was bored and i wanted to annoy you for a bit! i swear!”

even if it wasn't true, the thought of kaveh gifting you flowers without his knowledge—

alhaitham's expression subconsciously turns sour. quite unlucky that you couldn't witness the extremely scarce sight of jealousy on your boyfriend as you are comically dragged against your will behind him.

“the nearest flower shop is just around the corner. tell me if anything piques your interest.” he says in way that has no room for argument. he is getting you flowers now.

KAVEH falls for it, obviously. not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed outside his designated profession, you see.

“i don't remember buying any flowers...” he mutters to himself, the gears in his head turning. it's almost laughable when he finally pieces your words together, a look of disbelief painfully present on his faxe but by some miracle, you resisted the urge to burst out in giggles right then and there. “wait...i didn't send any!”

“is that so...then who would send me flowers other than you?” you edge him on, instigating at its finest, much poking a sleeping bear with a stick while you circle it tauntingly.

an actual enraged kaveh is something you've never seen before, just some tantrums and endless ranting about some clients and his roommate. you've always wanted to see it—just not directed at you, hopefully.

“that's...ah, people already know you're dating me though, so it can't be someone hitting on you. maybe it's just from a relative or—”

“really?” you tilt your head, feigning a bit of confusion. “then i suppose i should keep these red roses then. i'll ask tighnari how to keep them alive, i guess.”

“w-wait, wait—could you repeat that?”

“hm?” you face him, “i'll ask tighnari?”

“no, the one before that.”

“...i'll keep the red roses?” you had to hold yourself back from grinning ear to ear when his eyes widen.

it's not unexpected that someone versed in the beauty of art would recognize one of the most common flower's meaning. quite the handy trivia.

he immediately stands up, grabbing your hand in tow as you yelp in surprise at his abruptness.

“kaveh?!”

“those flowers mean love! like, actual romantic love! i'll burn it for you right now! where'd you put it!?” the intensity of his ruby gaze sends shudders down your spine.

“it's not like i reciprocate it—”

“still, no one other than me should be sending those...!” kaveh tightens his grip on your hands, “i don't like the idea of someone hitting on you. i can't let anyone attempt to take you away from me...”

you blink. “kaveh...”

“—that's why show it to me now! or i'll bite you!”

“okay, okay! jeez...”

now...how are you going to break the news to him that it was actually yellow roses, and most definitely not from an admirer?

the biggest hater of my work is myself. wtf am i writing bruh ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[d1s1ntegrated]

I really like your headcannons! I’m curious on if you’d be willing to do some for sleepy Shigaraki?? Like maybe what he’d be like in the morning or just how he’d act in general while in desperate need for a nap lmao

yes yes omfg thank u so much for the ask!!!!!

sleepy shiggy hcs

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀☆⠀⠀⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ☆⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀⠀☆ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ☆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ☆

hes a night owl, so he stays up well into the break of dawn most nights. only once the sun starts to crest will he drag himself off his game and tumble into bed.

he gets really whiny when he's tired. you notice that if he stays up too late, he speaks a lot less and when he does, it's mostly mumbling.

drinks a LOT of monster/redbull to keep himself up all night

he likes to deny he's tired, but if you ask him to nap with you, he'll immediately stop what he's doing and lay down with you (he always falls asleep first)

doesn't really snore but talks in his sleep sometimes, usually saying things as if he's talking to an animal? he says "fetch", and "baby" a lot. (im so sorry for this one)

takes a lot to wake him. even with the loudest alarm setting, he'll sleep right through it.

extra clingy in the early morning. he'll keep grabbing at you if you try to get up, grumbling about "five more minutes" and "cuddles" :-:

always asks you to rub/scratch his back.

prefers being little spoon, because he feels safer that way.

sleeps in the weirdest fucking positions. one time you woke up to his feet in your face and his head hanging off the end of the bed.

blanket hogger for sure. he gets cold at night

has frequent nightmares and will wake up multiple times, only to see you sleeping there, and he'll move right in and lay on you to comfort himself.

before you, he had an anime body pillow, but you made him throw it out (he was only slightly mad).

has a secret stash of plushies under his bed of his favorite video game/anime/cartoon characters (your personal favorite is the bmo plushie) (you make him put it on the bed)

has minecraft pjs and actually loves them

however he rips his clothes off after about twenty minutes of laying down because he starts to "feel tangled".

when hes reaaaaally tired, he'll go silent and just make weird hand gestures at you. youve learned what each gesture means by now.

his sleepy voice is raspier, but also higher pitched. he also says some WEIRDO shit when hes tired.

definitely gets zoomies pre-bedtime

okay this is all i have for now!

hope this sparks joy <3 tysm for asking love

[hannieehaee]

Svt ot13 reaction when you asked them if you could tie a bow on IT and take pictures with 🤭👀

18+ / mdi

asking if you can tie a bow on it and take a picture

content: established relationship implied, mention of dicks, etc.

wc: 487

a/n: very much would like to see them actually react to this lmao

masterlist

seungcheol -

confused but also a little turned on for some reason (he doesnt get it either). hesitantly agrees to it under the condition that you take care of his hardness afterwards.

jeonghan -

will only do it if you agree to wrap his favorite part of yourself with a bow and let him take a picture. doesnt even question your request as long as he gets something out of it too.

joshua -

he knows of the trend and he was kind of expecting you to ask. teases you about it by acting scandalized by it, only to eventually give in (teasing you even further in the process).

jun -

somehow i feel like he'd already know about this trend and he'll just have been waiting for you to bring it up. thinks its cute in a weird way, claiming you must like his dick if you're wanting to dress it up and take pics for posterity.

soonyoung -

turned on by the mere suggestion of you and his cock in the same sentence. will ask you to send him the picture after (he doesnt explain why).

wonwoo -

calls you a weirdo and scoffs with a chuckle, immediately denying you. if you whine and pout long enough he'll compromise and offer for you to wrap a bow around his bicep instead.

jihoon -

adamantly says no. at first it'll be a no bc he finds it weird and also does not want to risk anyone else seeing his dick, but then it becomes a no bc it makes him feel awkward.

seokmin -

you'd already wrapped bows on his head, waist, around his biceps, whats another one on his dick? he'll do it just to please you, finding it both funny and kind of cute how you're dolling him up in every way possible.

mingyu -

a little cocky about it, teasing you about how badly you love his dick. will agree to it, but only if he gets to orchestrate everything from the lighting to the color of the bow.

minghao -

calls you a weirdo and insists on not doing it. after you drop it for a few days, you'll randomly receive a text containing a picture of his cock wrapped in a bow with a very deadpan text attached such as 'there.'

seungkwan -

"what's wrong with you?" would be his immediate response, throwing you a look of disgust. he'd find it genuinely weird and say no. it'd take a LOT of convincing to get him to do it.

vernon -

chuckles incredulously bc wtf? assumes it's some weird trend you saw online so he doesn't question it too much. does it just to entertain you.

chan -

a question mark manifests above his head the moment you ask him, completely confused as to why you're asking and not knowing how to react. in the end he'll say yes, always willing to do anything for you, but will end up getting horny for some reason.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Night Terrors

Since reader has alr gone through their nightmare fic Astarion has to have a go too!

Summary: Astarion has a nightmare and visits your tent to get rid of it.

Astarion has always hated trancing ever since Cazador dug his claws into him. Every time he closes his eyes, flashes of grimy walls and bloodied chains flood through his mind, dragging him back to the Szarr Palace where screams constantly tear from his throat and Cazador leers over him, reminding the vampire spawn of his place.

Whenever his body forces him to trance, he feels his undead heart jump to his throat, panic seizing his chest and he always tries to force his eyes open but he can never win the battle. Darkness always consumes him in the end, and so does fear.

Tonight, he wakes up with a scream in his throat, panic rising in his chest and his clawed fingertips digging into the bedroll beneath him. If he still could sweat, his bedroll would be drenched right now, and he can still feel his hands shaking. He hates how weak he feels, how vulnerable he’s being right now and he grasps the collar of his shirt tightly, willing his clammy hands to be still. He inhales deeply despite not needing the air then shakily exhales, telling himself that he is far far away from the Szarr Palace, that he is safe with this ragtag group of weirdos who are considerate enough not to pry beyond what he tells them.

He stumbles out of his tent into the crisp night, where embers are all that’s left of the campfire and everyone is still in their tents, peacefully asleep. His feet automatically take him in the direction of your tent and before he knows it, he’s standing at the flap of your tent, debating whether or not to enter.

His fingers linger on the tent flap, playing with the edges until he works up the courage to enter. Once inside, he takes in the sight before him — you, peacefully asleep in your bedroll, curled up underneath the blanket with your mouth slightly ajar. He wonders if you know you sleep like that, so carefree, so far removed from the pressure of being a leader with saliva trickling out from the corner of your mouth and his lips quirk up into a quick smile at the thought of your reaction to such news. He watches from the entrance of your tent, ruby red eyes piercing the night as you stir slightly, rolling into a more comfortable position before resuming your restful sleep, that is until you feel someone staring at you and you wake up.

“Astarion! You scared me!”

“You don’t seem scared to me, darling,” he smiles, moving over to stand next to your bedroll.

“Why are you here?” You ask, sitting up.

“Just wanted to check how my little snack was doing,” he says lightly, a forced smile playing on his lips.

“Nightmare?” You recognise the telltale signs and open your arms, inviting him in. He hesitates at first, unsure about how much he wanted to reveal to you tonight but in the end he wordlessly nods, accepting the invitation and curls against your chest, feeling your arms gently wrap around him. He stares at a spot on the floor as you run your fingers through his hair, whispering words of sweet nothing and simply cradle him.

His fingers twitch, making their way onto your arm that’s wrapped around his waist and tentatively rest on your forearm. You continue your ministrations, pressing the occasional kiss to the top of his head and hide how your heart breaks each time you look at him. You rarely see him this broken, making you wonder what nightmare plagued him this time but you know it’s not the right time to ask, so you wait, putting his comfort over your need to know and do all you can to be there for him.

He buries his face into your chest, wanting nothing more than to wash away the thoughts plaguing his mind and your warmth helps a little. The night feels less lonely and cold when he’s curled up against you, wrapped in a cocoon of your scent and he can almost forget the reason he came here in the first place.

You slip your hand into his, feeling his fingers curl around yours as he gives your hand a squeeze, a silent thank you for taking time out of your sleep to be with him. He remains quiet, still staring at the same spot on the floor as before, unwilling to divulge anything so you continue to give him space.

“I want to forget it all.” His voice wavers, tears threatening to spill over. “But I can’t, I can’t forget anything and it keeps coming back whenever I close my eyes.”

You hum softly, gently playing with his silver-white locks. “I understand. It’s always when we close our eyes then does the darkness come out to haunt us, but it’s why we have each other. You don’t have to face it alone, I’ll always be right here to face it with you.”

He lets out a hiccup, tears streaming down his face and clutches your arm tightly. Your words always chases the darkness away, bringing him out of his spiralling mind and grounding him in reality, he really appreciates them even if he never says it. He wants you to say more, to continue wielding the magic infused into your words to drive the darkness that is enroaching on his mind once more and anxiously tugs at your shirt, hoping the action somehow conveys his need to you.

“You can stay here for the night, for as many nights as you want. My tent is always open to you, and so are my ears. You can always tell me anything, I will listen because I care, I care deeply about you.”

Astarion bites his bottom lip, feeling another wave of tears come crashing down on him and lets out a sob. He hates how weak you make him, how you always manage to coax the vulnerability out of him but you never call him out on it.

Silence falls over the both of you as you continue to cradle your hurting vampire lover, whispering how much you love him, how much you care for him as he silently cries, letting everything out. A while later his tears have all but dried up, his shoulders no longer shaking and he finally looks up at you, eyes still wet from his crying session.

“Can I —” He swallows. “Can I trance with you?”

“Of course,” you smile softly, lying back down on your bedroll and he slots himself into the space created, curling into you. You finger brushes over his cheek, lips pressing against his in a chaste kiss and he buries himself in your touch, leaning into the warmth your body emits. He loves moments like this, where you freely give whatever love he needs through your gentle touches, for it reminds him of how loved he is despite everything Cazador has drilled into him.

He cautiously puts his arms around your waist, breathing in your familiar scent and closes his eyes. He’s still nervous, but you begin rubbing circles on his back and he finds himself calming down. He trusts you to be there should he wake from his nightmares, to be there when he wakes from his trance, that you’ll never abandon him to his demons, and with that, he lets himself slip into a much needed trance.

As his eyes close, he locks gazes with you and sees the love that fills your eyes. A small smile graces his features, warmth blooming in his chest and he lets himself drift off, safe in the knowledge that when he opens his eyes again, you will be the first thing he sees.

[luveline]

Omg please kbd uncle Eddie:’)

dad!steve x mom!reader, 1k

“Hi, Uncle Eddie.” 

Eddie rubs his hands together, holds them out in front of himself, and summons the prodigal child forward. “Bethany. Quick, give me a hug.” 

Bethie walks into his waiting arms, her giggle infectious as she says, “That’s not my name.” 

“Bethie,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You know my full name is Edward. Full names are nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“It’s Bethie.” 

She pushes the hair off of his shoulders. He smiles at her and her little hands. If someone told him ten years ago he’d be carrying Steve ‘King of Hawkins High’ Harrington’s babygirl around like a treasure he’d laugh in their face, but he loves Beth. She’s hands down his favourite Harrington, and he’s allowed to have favourites as an uncle, though the other clingers are cool too. Beth is Eddie’s favourite because she’s an underdog, and because she’s so clearly infatuated with him. They’re best friends. 

He gives her a pat between the shoulders and slips down into a seat in front of the TV. There’s no signs of the other babies nor their parents; Eddie always lets himself in when he’s coming around and he doesn’t expect wait service, but a hello would be nice. “Where’s mom and dad?” he asks, setting Beth down into the seat beside him. He zeroes in on a plate of pretzels and snags a few for snacking. “You’re downstairs by yourself?” 

“No! They’re in the kitchen.” 

“Really? What about Ave and Dove, then?” he asks through chewing. 

“Dove is napping and Ave, um, went somewhere.” 

He raises his brows. “Dad took her somewhere?” He imagines Beth would tell him Avery’s run away with similar nonchalance. 

“To Grandma’s. They’re going to watch a play.” 

“Oh,” Eddie springs up off of the couch. “Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just go make sure they know I’m here.” 

Eddie is scared to open the door. Why is it closed? He supposed parents are deprived of one another but he doesn’t wanna see you kissing. Then again, if he does see you kissing, Steve will die of embarrassment. That’s worth it. 

“Hello!” he shouts, throwing open the door. 

He makes you both jump hard, Steve’s head thwacking a cabinet and your hand thrown to your chest. You almost fall on your ass where you’re kneeling by Steve’s leg. His pant leg is pushed up to the knee, and you have a tweezers in hand —Eddie frowns abruptly. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks. 

“Steve has a tick, you fiend. When did you get here?” 

Steve groans. “The door was locked,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Not well. Just stuck my credit card in there and wham. You guys should slide the chain in if you’re gonna leave poor Bethie all by her lonesome, don’t you think?” 

“Eddie, the door was locked,” Steve says. “You’re the only weirdo in Hawkins willing to break in. Plus, I still have that baseball bat in the garage.” 

“Sure. Come on, sweetheart, get off the floor. Let Eddie have a stab at it.” 

You laugh and pull Steve’s pants down over his shin. “It’s fine, I already got it. He might get Lyme’s now because you scared the fuck out of me–”

“Language.” 

“–but I heated it up and I think I got it.” You look up with a smile. Steve pauses his pained head rubbing to beam at you lovingly. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Or he’ll turn into a zombie, and that would make him cooler. Win win. So, dinner?” Eddie asks. “Should I go get something?” 

“Nah, I made ravioli, you rude idiot. Where’s Beth?” 

“I told her to stay put in case you were making out.” 

Steve helps you up from your kneeling to dust you off. “Thanks for saving my life,” he sighs tiredly, kissing your cheek. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns away. Steve should love and appreciate you, you’re awesome, but he’s also a loser and Eddie’s entitled to thinking such disparaging thoughts about his friend from time to time. 

You and Steve made a kid as cool as Beth, so Steve can’t be too bad of a loser.

“Uncle Eddie?” 

“Yes, my lovely sweetpea angel?” Eddie asks. 

She stares at him, adorable in all her chubby-cheeked, sugary-eyed sweetness with her hands held up for another hug. Eddie leans down, says, “Daw, I can’t say no to you,” as she giggles into his hair. He strokes the top of her shoulder with his thumb. “So what’s happening? How did that painting go with mommy, did you put it in the contest?” 

Steve nudges you forward with a hand on your shoulder. “He’d make a good dad, right?” 

“For sure,” you say, “not as good as you, though.” 

“Oh, you’re flirting with me, that’s cool… Are you free Friday night?” 

“Probably gonna be pulling ticks off of some other guy's leg.” 

“Oh, that’s fine, I was busy anyways.” 

Beth giggles as Eddie tips her backward, a mixture of nerves and excitement that kids experience so much more than adults. 

“I always expected him to just end up with a kid. Like, one night stand style,” Steve says. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. At least then he doesn’t get stuck marrying somebody he doesn’t love.” 

Steve glares at you as you laugh, dragging you into his arms to smush kisses into your cheek. “Don’t even joke about that.” 

“Sorry, honey. I hope Eddie gets as lucky as me someday.” 

Beth begs to be put down through giggles. “I don’t know,” Steve says, resting his cheek on your temple to watch her laugh, “I don’t think Eddie has luck, just sheer force of will.” 

“He’d totally get a baby in a basket on his doorstep.” 

Steve mulls it over. “God, he totally would.” 

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

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

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

Diary Entry: August 10th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

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

‘Sleep well deer?’

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

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

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

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

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

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

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

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

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

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

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

“Nothing it’s just-“

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

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

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

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

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

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

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

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

Six minutes later he replied:

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

‘Will do💕’

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

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

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

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

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

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

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

‘Just stay calm’

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

The audacity of this man astounded you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

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

“Well that’s not-“

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

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

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

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

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

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

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not-“

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

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

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

“Why?” You squeaked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

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

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

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

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

“I am not a-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

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

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

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

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

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

He’d taken a picture of you.

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

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

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

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

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

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

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

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

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Not if you’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

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

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

“I’m not a monster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s the worst that could happen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Date

August 14th

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

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

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

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

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

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are stuck.

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

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

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

Maybe it would be best if-

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

Anakin was here.

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

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

Anakin was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

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

“No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ani but-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary Entry: August 14th

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

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

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

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

I’ve been selfish for too long.

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

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

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

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

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

Date

August 15th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

He’d wait to send it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes please.’

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

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

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

‘Letter.’

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

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

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

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 1@mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrott @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

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

[leighsartworks216]

Migraine Pain

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this for me bc I have a migraine rn and I want Astarion to act as my personal cold pack. Beginning of Astarion's dialogue taken from the vid Neil did of an Astarion wake up call lol

Not proofread bc brain hurts

Warnings: migraine descriptions, pain, light angst if you squint, swearing, OOC Shadowheart

Word Count: 1,839

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The two knocks at the door split your skull. Each one like an iron spike hammered into your temples. All you could do was hide deeper under the covers, hoping they would muffle the sound enough to stop hurting.

“Darling, get up,” Astarion called through the wood. Two more knocks accentuated his annoyance. He groaned when he didn’t hear any movement. “Get the fuck up!”

You wished you could tell him what was going on - really you did. But the slightest twitch from your tadpole was enough to have you wishing for death. Hells, you’d make a deal with Raphael with unbalanced terms just so it would go away! Instead, all you could do was wait it out. It would be a long wait indeed.

With another irritated sigh, you could hear the familiar scrape of his lockpicking tools working at the lock. Even the quiet metal-on-metal grated right against your eardrums. Fortunately, he was exceptionally skilled, because with a click the door was swinging open.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the lump of your body underneath the blankets. “My gods, you’re so lazy. Just like Gale.” His footsteps, even as an elven rogue, were too damn loud. You pressed your nose into the mattress, willing the thumping pulse in your head to stop. It thudded behind your eyes with each step.

In one swift motion, the blankets that provided the small mercy of darkness were whipped off of you. You curled as tightly into yourself as possible, covering your head with your arms to block out the sunlight streaming into your room. Astarion scoffed.

“Get out of bed and get up!” He gestured to the window. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the rustling of his shirt. “It’s the morning. Listen, I might be a vampire that’s been away from the sun for 200 years, and I can actually now walk in it thanks to a tadpole that’s induced my mind,” he rambled, before huffing indignantly, “but even I don’t rest in!”

Now was the worst time for his dramatics. You usually adored how sassy and silly he could be, but now it just drove a stake through your brain. Even the Absolute couldn’t cause a pain this agonizing.

You whimpered, reaching out with one arm to swat him away. You missed. “Please, stop,” you whined. “Head hurts.”

He clicked his tongue. “Nothing the cleric can’t fix. C’mon, she can do whatever it is she does on our way out of here.”

You shook your head slowly, burying your face further and further into the bed. Gods, why did it have to hurt so fucking bad? Your chest tightened as the burn of tears stung at your eyes. Even crying hurt. Your body trembled and shook, your hands tangling into your hair to press at your affliction, as choked sobs suffocated you. Each gasp for air felt like a vice gripping your brain.

“Darling?” Astarion spoke, much softer. You couldn’t answer. He sighed softly, no longer annoyed. Well, a little annoyed. He dragged the blankets back up to your shoulders. “I’ll get Shadowheart.”

His footsteps were much lighter as he rushed out of your room. Was… this the work of the tadpoles? But wouldn’t they be affected, too? Ugh, why couldn’t anything be simple in this damn group of weirdos?

Shadowheart rushed in a moment later, remembering to keep her steps light halfway to you. She knelt down, frowning at the sight of the group’s leader so shaken. “Is it a migraine?” she whispered.

A sharp pain bolted through your temples as you nodded. You whimpered.

She sighed quietly. There was nothing her magic could do; migraines weren’t something she could just heal. “I’ll tell the others and whip up some tea, alright?”

She didn’t wait for your answer and set to work closing the curtains over the windows. Astarion frowned, missing the golden light already. “What’s wrong with them?”

Shadowheart put a finger over her lips with a glare. He scowled, but didn’t say anything. She only spoke when she was right next to him in the doorway. “They have a migraine. They’re extremely sensitive to light and sound right now.”

“Can’t you do something?” He glared impatiently at her, crossing his arms.

“There’s nothing for it. All we can do is wait. I suggest getting comfortable - we’re not leaving today.” She slipped past him, back down the stairs to the rest of your anxious companions.

He tapped his arm as he watched the lump under the blankets shift slowly as you finally uncovered your head. Baldur’s Gate was so close. Cazador was so close. They couldn’t deal with these delays when he was so damn close to being honestly, truly free.

He hadn’t moved from his post by the door when Shadowheart returned with a steaming cup of tea. She placed it carefully on your bedside table. “Drink this,” she whispered. “It should help with the pain.”

You nodded slightly, wiping at your face. She offered a little sympathetic smile. She gave Astarion a stern look as she passed. “Don’t try taking a nibble, vampire.”

He forced a sweet smile. “Offering yourself up instead?”

She scoffed, scrunching her nose up at the mere thought. “They need rest. And you leering over them isn’t going to help.” She left once more, with a last cursory glance over her shoulder to see if he’d leave.

Once she was out of sight, Astarion stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. His feet barely made a sound as he found his way back to your side. At least you weren’t curled up into a little ball anymore. Or crying. Small mercies, he supposed. He had no idea how to deal with someone being sick, let alone someone crying.

You looked at the cup on the table. Liquid salvation. The real trick was being able to drink it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to sit up, wincing and whimpering with every jerky motion. He was honestly shocked you didn’t jump when he grabbed your arm to help, but perhaps you really were that out of it. Or you knew he was there. Either way, you thank him in the smallest, most pathetic voice he’s ever heard.

Comfortably propped up on a stack of pillows against the headboard, you reached over to try grabbing the cup. He caught your hand just before you knocked the cup over.

“Careful, darling,” he chastised quietly. With a put-out sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed and picked up the cup. He brought the rim to your lips. “Since you’re so incapable…”

You carefully took a sip. Your whole face relaxed at the warmth, and the soothing herbs mixed in. It wouldn’t be an immediate remedy, but it was a very pleasant one. After you eagerly drained half the cup, he set it back on the table. You sighed with relief, content in the knowledge even a single percentile of your pain could be eased away.

“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled, watching him through squinted eyes. Even the dimness of the room was too bright for you.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Least I could do after such a rude awakening.”

You chuckled, but the sound was cut short with a strong wince. You sat there for a moment, face pinched and brow tight as you waited for the sting to pass. Once it did, your face softened once more.

“How bad is it?”

“Like Dwarves are taking pickaxes to my temples in search of gold.” You took a breath. “And like an ogre is sitting on my head.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not much I can do to help with that, love.”

You hummed, shaking your head ever so slightly. You didn’t want to go jostling the miners when they were so damned hard at work.

With a small gesture toward the cup, Astarion helped you finish off the last half of the tea. A small dribble fell from the corner of your mouth down your chin. He caught it with his thumb quickly, the knuckles of his closed hand brushing your cheek. You leaned into the touch immediately, without even thinking about it. You sighed with relief.

“You’re cold.”

“Mm. Comes with being undead.” He set the cup aside, but allowed his hand to linger. In fact, he opened it up so he cupped your cheek with his palm. A sharp chill raced down your spine, but you didn’t pull away.

It was curious, how easily you placed yourself in his care. Watching as your eyes shut in easy tranquility as you indulged in the coolness of his hand, how relaxed you became - it surprised him. You always found new ways to amaze him.

Slowly, not wishing to jostle you, he moved to press his hand to your temple. If he thought you were relaxed before, this was utter bliss. “Gods, don’t stop,” you begged.

He glanced at the door, half expecting Shadowheart to burst in and yell at him for disturbing you. But nothing happened. Still, it would be better to avoid being told off. He pulled away, but kept a hand on your arm. “Lay down, dove.”

Whether out of desperation to have him acting as a cold compress once more or just to take the pressure off your brain, you complied in a heartbeat. Slowly, you shimmied back down into the covers, head situated on a pillow once more.

Astarion thought for a moment. Did he really want to keep sitting here, back tiring out, arms reaching for hours? You whined, placing a hand over his on your arm, asking without words for relief. He hushed you.

As quickly as he could without shaking the bed, he stood, rounded it, and slipped in under the covers beside you. You gravitated toward him immediately, even as you winced. Head on his chest, arms clinging to him like a babe holding onto its mother, you relaxed into the natural chill he offered. He rested a hand back on your cheek, but slid the other to the back of your neck. That was the sweet spot, it seemed; you practically melted in his arms.

It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, lulled into peace with the aid of the tea. He stared at the dark curtains blocking out the sun. One more day couldn’t hurt, surely. Not that they really had a choice, but…

You stirred in your sleep, turning your head to press your nose further into the ruffles of his shirt. Like this - bags under your eyes, hair a mess, a bit pallid - he was sure. He would Ascend. You’d never have to suffer like this again. Neither of you would. He’d be the most powerful man in the lands, with you at his side. Never again would he have to live in fear, bound in chains to someone else.

He sighed and rested his cheek lightly on your head. Gods. Just a few days now.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats

[lowkeyrobin]

hello!!

would you be willing to do a TMR minho fic?

basically just them at the little glade treehouse (i live for that treehouse lol) and maybe they stole some food from frypan and are just chatting and having a laugh together whilst cuddling or something bc they dont get to spend alot of time together as he is always in the maze??

(been loving your writing recently btw, literally one of the v few writers who write for MCYTS and respect their boundaries so tysm!!)

hope ur having a good day:)

oh hell yeah brother LMAO ; also thank you and you're welcome!! im all for respecting boundaries because ik how that feels when they're broken + I'm not a weirdo lol, and thank you for appreciating my work, it means sm to me 🫶🫶🫶 ; have a good day/night :) ; post writing me, sorry this is so short :( ; also I know I said I was in trouble but NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT??

MINHO ; tree house cuddles

summary ; sneaking food into the tree house and having late night convos with minho

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader is a track-hoe, Thomas has been in the maze for months and exists, but no Teresa/escaping the maze

word count ; 459

masterlist

You loved your beautiful boyfriend Minho. He was an angel sent from above, truly. Or... maybe below? The box and what existed out of the Glade was confusing, sadly. God, you wished you could remember anything outside of here.

Sadly, you hadn't seen him very much recently.

He'd been busy with his duties in the maze and the Map Room, and you've been busy working in the gardens damn near all day every day. Your rations were running low, the crops were growing slower than ever, and you couldn't figure out why. It's not like there were deer or raccoons feasting on them either. It was just you Gladers here, nothing else. You'd been stressing out over it and needed some time away from it for a while.

Thankfully, the beloved tree house existed, and rarely anyone used it.

You'd stolen a basket of fruit from Fry's kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Minho. Hopefully, Newt stuck to his word, or remembered to, to send Minho to the tree house to spend some time with you.

Thankfully, the beautiful Korean boy showed up, dressed casual and out of the heavy gear he had to wear in the maze. He greeted you with a tired yet warm smile, sitting down with you on the wooden floor.

"Hey, how's your day?" He asks, sitting next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

You hand him a little basket of strawberries. "Fine, I guess." You shrug, "Need a minute away from the gardens"

He nods, "I need a minute away from the shuckin' maze"

You dangle your feet off the side of the platform, soaking up each other's presence.

He pulls you into his lap, between his legs. He rests his chin on your shoulder while his arms rest around your waist. You feel your stomach swarm with butterflies, resting your hands over his.

"I love you" He whispers, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Love you too, dork," you reply with a smile, leaning your head back to rest yourself against him.

"What a romantic" He giggles, pulling you a little closer.

The night continues on in peace, smiles, giggles and kisses shared, hands intertwined. You share your body heat, cuddled up and comfy.

"No, no, no, he said something like he was gonna beat him back into the box! How does that even work? Gally acts like Thomas is some universal threat or something" You laugh as you speak.

"I have no idea, darling." He smiles and chuckles, listening to you ramble on and on about stories he'd missed during the day.

You look up at him and place a kiss on his jawline, a stupid smile on his face.

"Love you"

"Love you too"

"...Thanks for being mine"

"Okay, shut up, shank"

[lacunazai]

do you think different versions of dazai would have different kinks? 🌸

oh absolutely. pmzai, beastzai, adazai, merzai and love of my life kitsunezai. they'd all have different areas ( as much as all relate to being a freaky bastard )

adazai is a freak. he's into bondage, tears, praising and degradation, pain and being coddled. etc. he's a freak all around and would most likely do any kink you ask of him. he's happy to be here and seeing you in pleasure makes him harder. he's down to fuck you or be fucked literally all night. take control or let him do it! a solid baseline for the dazai aus

beastzai takes more control then adazai. he likes collars, bondage, leashes, things of the like. he's rougher most of the time, unless you catch him on a vaunrable night. he'll prefer to be the top, to take most of the control and deny your orgasms or force more out of you. but he's also soggy and pathetic and will weep and let out such wonderful loud sounds if you take charge. he cannot hold himself back and the sheets will be soaked one way or another, whether with tears cum or other. he's a masochist, sorry. blood, knife play and gunplay are something he'll never turn down. to bounce you on his cock and threaten to pull the trigger when you slow down? okaaaaaay.

merzai is definately a weirdo, but there's less legroom for things to do. he doesn't like bondage, not on himself at least. a mermaid tail is already difficult to fuck with. he's stronger then you anyway, he doesn't need them. if orals a kink he's definately got it, there's nothing he loves more then holding you down on a rock and eating you out sloppy. his tongue is freakishly long as a bonus. less mentioned but he's VERY into oviposition. the thought of filling you warm and full with his eggs gets him so riled up. not fully a kink just more of a fascination, but he'll do pussy inspections too. he just wants to know about humans more!

kitsunezai oh god kitsunezai. he's like adazai, basically into everything. he's less sexual 24/7 then the other dazai's, as much as his sex drive is high he's not grinding against you every night and begging for you. he'll offer up praise, or maybe degrading on normal nights. but nothing too crazy, he's a spirit. he has a small reputation to uphold. but during his heat seasons everything switches. he's willing to try anything like that, he wraps his tails around you and begs you to let him pump a litter into you. breeding, bondage, pain and tears. anythings on the table! have fun exploring cause you won't be able to walk or sit down tomorrow.

pmzai is a little more nervous about it, when he touches you his hands are shaky and he's not fully secure in what he's doing. as much as he'd like to in his mind, any of the things he'd be turned on by he's almost too afraid to do in practice. he doesn't like being degraded and tossed around, ( he's quite vaunrable sometimes. ) he's so into praise, he trembles when you call him a good boy. guided orgasms and gradually being eased into allowing you to wreck him. ( sorry pmzai fans he would not want anything in him at all for a WHILE that shit terrifies him )

[babygirlgiles]

So many ppl have said that what the Elementary version of Holmes gets right is that perfect ratio of low asshole energy to high bitchy energy, and while I hear that and totally agree I think what they Really got right is that Holmes is totally and certifiably an absolute fucking freak. He’s a complete weirdo. He loves kinky sex. He has all his bizarre little hobbies. He gets deep joy from these things. And he is not at all ashamed of any of this, he’s actually quite proud of it all and willing to share it with anyone, out of a true love for his passions. He doesn’t feel confined by convention or expectations at all, he just wants to be vibing with his weird little projects and solve some weird little crimes and That Is How Sherlock Holmes Should Be.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, would you please explain the differences in your husband rotation when they're in a "normal state/character" compared to when they exhibit yandere tendencies/ are extremely yandere? I'd love to read your thoughts🖤!

this was such an interesting question that i've been thinking about it all day HGETJNKR

speaking in general terms, even when writing 'non-yandere' versions of the husband rotation, i still make them a lil weird. just a dash of unhinged. what changes depending on if they're yan or not is how willing they are to consciously impede on the reader's wishes for their personal gain. now, getting into specifics...

my take on non-yandere and yan chrollo

there are a lot of little specifics that change depending on the variation of the character i'm writing for, but we'd be here all day if i got into that. so, i'll be focusing on the most prominent differences. regarding mr. lucilfer, i consider the most pertinent changes to be: him divulging his identity to reader and how out of his way he goes to rope reader in.

yan chrollo holds off on revealing that he's the leader of the phantom troupe, but is eventually fine with you finding out. it serves a dual-purpose. first, you're Extra cognizant of the power difference, thwarting any potential shenanigans you might get up to. second, he can unapologetically be himself. non-yandere chrollo's fine expressing his apathy toward the plight of others in small, socially acceptable increments. he's less blunt about it overall because he doesn't want you to drift away from him.

then there's his manipulation of outside variables to scooch you his way. yan chrollo accepts subjecting you to some traumatic things as a 'means to an end,' whereas his non-yandere counterpart values your mental well-being more. thanks king. regardless, they're both going to stalk you to varying extents, utilizing morally ambiguous methods without any guilt. they're also both going to make liberal use of lying by omission.

non-yandere and yan gojo

i am physically incapable of writing gojo being normal toward reader. it'd lack the pièce de résistance. that being said, non-yandere gojo is weird and yan gojo is weird with malicious intent. i'm not sure if that makes any sense, so allow me to elaborate.

they're both not the best with respecting boundaries, although in non-yandere gojo's case, that'd improve slightly with age. i always write reader as having attended high school with him because that's the dynamic i find most intriguing. in both cases, gojo in his teenage years is going to be obnoxious and unapologetic about keeping your eyes on him. non-yandere gojo deviates in his ability to mature by trusting you enough to believe you when you say you're not going anywhere. yandere gojo always has that gnawing fear that he'll end up with no one who can truly understand him if he isn't vigilant.

either way, you're not locked up in some dungeon where you'll never see the light of day, which is a boon. they're both content to let you interact with geto & shoko in your high school years, as well as their students into adulthood. selfish as yan gojo can be, his dream of the next generation usurping the status quo is paramount. he believes your influence too invaluable to deprive his students of. they both complain about how much you dote on megumi though.

non-yandere and yan scara

... ahem. the differences here are less pronounced. a driving factor behind scaramouche's character is his fear of abandonment, along with the resentment from the betrayals he previously experienced. they're both not the easiest people to be in a relationship with (or the healthiest). there's always going to be some level of codependency with non-yandere scaramouche. his yandere variation just cranks that to the highest setting.

the key difference lies within your ability to steer him away from being a weirdo. there's a skill ceiling for yan scaramouche, you can only make it so far. non-yandere scaramouche, on the other hand, has a sliver of hope. it'd require a mind-numbing amount of patience and forgiveness, but it's technically possible. everything comes down to how much you love him at his worst. should you accept him, albeit with some conditions (such as him being more honest with his feelings), he will make a legitimate effort to reform himself.

anything else nets you a bad end. he's emotionally volatile and prone to callousness. it isn't like yan scaramouche wants you to hate him — he's driven by paranoia. compounded by your understandable distaste for his new, restrictive behavior, he ends up saying things he'll later regret. tl;dr scara is eevee and will evolve into a slightly normal partner or yandere depending on your stats.

non-yandere and yan blade

somehow the most normal from this lineup?????? not that that's an achievement, since that bar's in hell, but it's still kinda funny.

unlike the other weirdos on this list, non-yandere blade could come to accept if you loved another. it isn't inconceivable or a reality he'd seek to alter. if anything, non-yandere blade would find your romantic interest in him far more perplexing. he's a jaded, immortal weapon who guiltlessly sheds blood. he knows you deserve better and that you're likable enough to find another partner. said partner would be subject to his scrutiny, but he wouldn't be vehemently opposed.

yandere blade thinks a similar way. what changes is his self-restraint — or lack, thereof. would you be happier with another? yes. can he love you the way you deserve? absolutely not. that doesn't remedy the incessant urge to possess you. you don't even have to like him back, per se, just having you around satisfies him. you quench this hunger that his non-yandere self ignores (with great difficulty).

here's to hoping this makes any sense 😭...