PART 4

Merry Christmas !

Ghostface x Gn!reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

TW/CW: reader has a mother, breaking in, brief mention of kys

Merry (late) Christmas to those who celebrates it and even those who don't. Also happy new year, I hope this year will be full of money and health for you all. Also if you have any projects I deeply hope it'll realize.

I have the unpleasant feeling this work is sloppy and that I'm regressing and losing vocabulary. Also Ethan gave me the ick here, I made him a total loser.

I literally wrote so many different things and yet I can't finish any of them, this is pure torture.

05/01/2024 (7 409 words)

You're not one to go all out for Christmas, most of the time, it's just a pretext for family to gather and eat and share some juicy gossip. And you love it ! When they're not pestering you with question about your love life or job or study or just anything boring.

This year, you all gathered at your aunt's house. She's a single mother of one, they live alone in this huge cottage far away from the city you're used to. It's nice living here but it's deeply disabling being obligated to use your car to just buy some bread.

In New York, you either walk or use public transports.

It's still fun to be here on vacations, it changes from your daily life. Your mom is going back and forth between the car and the house to empty the car boot, you on the other side, are stuck with your aunt and cousin. Your aunt is telling you how glad she is to finally see the whole family together, saying how much you've grown and bla bla bla.

"Come help me with your stuff !" your mom calls you from outside.

Not making her repeat herself by fear of regretting it later, you hurry to the alley outside. Your mother is already emptying the car, throwing your bags on the ground and frenetically searching for what you assume are her phone, in your pocket.

Walking to her side, you hand her her phone which owes you a thanks before she pulls you to the car trunk. Sighing, your hand grab the bag you brought with you full with clothes. You're staying here for a week after all ! But you can't even take out the bag entirely from its confine as something lower catch your eyes; the tire. It's all deflated.

"Mom, is it me or our tire's flat ?" you make her know instantly. She turns her head to you and frowns.

"Shit you're right." she double check."That's weird, it wasn't like that when we parked here earlier." A small silence filled with bird's singing and light wind replace her words. "It's just our luck, she sighs. We'll change it the day of our departure, your aunt probably has a spare tire."

Your mom doesn't let you answer as she grabs her bag and leave to the house. You're left alone before the open car boot, thinking about your bad luck. Here, it's a necessity to have a working car ! The nearest grocery store is hours away from here by foot and thirty minutes by car.

Crouching down, you put your hand on the holed tire to examine it. You don't really understand, that's some really bad gash, what the hell ? What did you even drove on ? The hole is as big as the length of two of your index fingers. Surely even driving over a nail wouldn't do that.

Are animals frequent in this area ? Or maybe it was already holed at home but the long road worsen it. Just your luck, from every car in the country, or even just the ones here, your car had to be targeted. The world hates you. You hope you won't often need to use your car.

Grabbing the handle of your bag, you slam the trunk door of the vehicle and head to your room. Damn, you kind of missed this place to be honest. You have pretty good memories from here !

The house is quite separated from the other, forest being the only thing present here. You remember climbing up trees, playing in the snow or watching TV before the chimney. And this exact room in which you're staying for the week already hosted you, with its heavy blankets that more often than not itches but are too warm to let go.

You know this place all too well.

What changed ? Life was so cool before, so simple. You did not have to go to a school you don't even like, you never even had to think about later. Your later was asking yourself what would be your next snack. And yet, here you are today, thrown in adult world. And you're deeply lost, everything is so slow and fast at the same time.

You fear you might lose your friends by changing University, you fear to start everything over again, you fear to stay forever stuck in a job you don't like. This room offers you a moment of peace, a portal from your childhood reminding you how everything was easier before.

Shame hits you because you know you'll have to come down to greet everyone when you have nothing to talk about. You're not excellent at school, nor bad, just in the fair middle. You don't have any partner, but you have a few friends. Your life's just boring and you don't want to tell it to everyone. Each one of your cousin always find something to be proud of, you don't have much, nothing to brag about.

To light up the mood, you turn on your phone to send a message to one of your friends; she seems busy as she's not answering. Same for the few others friends you have, some you're not even that close to, only friends at school.

Delight cross you in seeing someone writing you, only for the name to disappear immediately before you're able to see it. Man, you could have finally erased the boredom.

After some time mourning in your corner, your mom yelled at you from the living room to get down to greet the family. Sighing, you turn off your phone and rise up from your bed.

A faint music was heard in the background already, small snacks could be seen scattered a little everywhere on every surface and your aunts, cousins and uncles were greeting each others warmly.

Your mom tells you to come beside her by a sign of the hand, going down each stairs slowly, taking your time, you think about your bed which you already miss.

Greeting every person on the way, smiling, taking news from the family you dare ask yourself what have you done to deserve such a big household. By the time you reach your mom, she grabs your arms and put you right before one of your aunt, the conversation quickly drift to you.

"So ? What do you do now ? How's your new school ? Did you make any friends ? your aunt asks.

You reminded her that you were now in University and not in middle school in a teasing tone, to what she gasped before asking you your age and proceeding to moan about how time flies.

-Last time I saw you you were still so small !

-Show them the picture you have with your friends." your mom almost order you. By her tone and eagerness, you couldn't tell if it was pride of what her child has became, or fear of judgement from the others. As if they were going to shame her for having a kid who did nothing with their life, scared of them thinking you were a loser.

You take out your phone, scroll in your gallery to find the group photo of you and your friends. Your smiles are fake and awkward because the teacher is the one taking the picture. A few months ago, all of you handed a quite big model of the building for a homework, you honestly chose the University's building by lack of better idea. But your teacher was delighted, to everyone's surprise.

He insisted on taking a picture of you all with it to mark this moment forever, congratulating you and complimenting your skills and everything. Did you deserve all this ? No. Did you complaint ? Neither.

Your aunt seems to light up at the mere idea of you having friends, and showing her. It probably makes her feel part of your life. One by one, you present her your friends. Throwing a few anecdotes here and here. She tells you who she thinks is the meanest, the kindest, the prettiest.

Finally, everyone was presented. Smiling lightly, she tells you that she's proud you're working that hard and you turn off the phone. You wanted to leave and grab something to drink when your aunt seize your arm with a frown.

-Where do you think you're going ?

Damn, what is it this time ?

-I don't think I met everyone. Come back here.

The woman practically forces you to turn on your phone once more to show her the picture. You don't outright understand what's the matter as everyone was already introduced, it's when she uses her pointer to show you someone that it clicks.

-And who are those men ? And this girl ? What are you hiding ?

-This photo was taken a while back now, my friends and I don't really talk much to them anymore.

Her eyes glint with a funny mischievous light when problems are mentioned. She slaps kindly your arms, pushing you to tell her everything. You laugh.

-The one with the sleeveless shirt is Chad, the girl next to him is Mindy, they're siblings. The guy all to the left and next to me is Ethan.

-What happened ? They all seem nice !

Well, they are in a way. It's just stupid disputes that destroyed everything. Chad tried flirting with one of your friends, it did not lead to anything as he suddenly went with a certain Tara. When he was faced with the problems he created himself, he said that flirting wasn't equal to a relationship, that he owed you guys nothing.

Your friend was hurt, Mindy wanted to comfort her but, well, she's good friend with Tara and she's Chad's sister so it was complicated. You still talk occasionally with Mindy by the way, she was really nice and never did anything against you. It's just awkward now. But it's not her fault.

So yeah, you stopped hanging out together.

Your aunt was nodding throughout your story, listening carefully, sometimes throwing in some anecdotes of her, sometimes giving her opinion on the matter.

-And the other one ? she asks and for a moment you're confused who she's talking about until she points her interest on your phone.

Right, Landry. You completely forgot about him. He's on the picture since he was working with you as well but to be honest, you're not really close.

He's the only one who stayed with you despite the whole flirting argument. According to him, he likes both groups and is close to both side and it's okay, he's not the one who cheated on someone. But, yeah, it's strange.

No, scratch that, not it, he's strange.

He's in love with one of your friend. Well, you think he is anyway. They're often talking, on the phone and outside. He's always taking part in your group hangouts, buying foods, cinema ticket to whoever forgot money. You could've liked him if he talked to you, because he never.

Every time, and it's not even exaggerated, literally every time, you are all together, Ethan does not glance your way. Even for a second, you could talk to him and he'd answer with short words in a curt tone without looking at you to your face !

And you asked everyone, you're the only one with whom he acts this way.

While he's all lovey dovey with your closest friend. Closest not because you rate your group of friend, that'd be mean, but because you've known her for the longest time. He's following her, she's always the one to bring him to your parties and he'd mostly talk to her. Damn, you're a group, if he doesn't like you what the hell is he still doing here ?

Plus, your friend always talk your ear off about him, how he's so sweet, cute, smart and whatever. Sometimes you feel like she's trying to sell him to you the same way blender or vacuum cleaner are sold on TV.

Anyway, Ethan's weird and he's not your friend.

You simply told your aunt he was the boyfriend of one of your friend, that is partially false as he probably has a huge crush on her, to which she smiled and finally let you go.

You like your family, but you don't feel like telling this all over again to everyone here.

You spent the whole evening chatting with the kids and taking news out of the oldest. Them, on the other hand, kept asking you about a potential partner, school, grades and future. It was tiring but in the middle of it all were laughs, tears and anecdotes you would never forget.

The night has long arrived when everyone start talking about a children Christmas's show happening in town. From what you understood, there would be giant muppet. Some were reluctant because of the driving time and the sun setting but the kids were now overexcited at the idea of seeing muppet dancing.

Honestly, you didn't want to go but they've decided to go out all together now, you didn't have much say in it. Even if you hoped you wouldn't leave the house for tonight.

You weren't feeling it, already tired from the trip and the day. You lied about having a bad headache to stay in. You could rest and enjoy that big house all to yourself that way.

It was hard to survive the strongly disapproving stare of your mother and her dark look but you made it ! You still don't know how, usually, your mom is quite severe on the whole family reunion and she wants you to be there all the time, something about you being disrespectful.

She tells you not to get used to it but while leaving, you hear the others tell her that since your car can't drive because of its tire, there wouldn't have any seat left for you anyway. To what some answer that there'll always be a place for everyone (but you chose to ignore that). Just your luck ! Maybe the world doesn't hate you. This flat tire reveals itself to be a gift.

Slowly but surely, the house empty itself. Each member of the family zip their warm jacket to the very top, preventing the smallest wind to pass through. Your aunt, the owner of the house, comes talk to you with a smile.

"You're not gonna try and sneak your lover in, do you ?

You laugh nervously, still not used to this kind of attention. No, auntie, don't you worry. It's not like you have someone in your life. You assure her that no, you won't sneak anyone in here. Plus, it's kind of gross to do dirty things in the family house but you did not tell her that.

She kisses your cheek, zip her jacket as well and leave the house. Standing before the window, you wave at everyone entering the multiple cars. A few minutes later, the vehicles are gone, only the tire's marks on the frosted dirt are left. You sigh, listening to the quiet wind outside the house, feeling safer than ever.

Finally, peace.

No children running, no parents yelling, no messy conversation screamed; just silence. You can breath and hear yourself think. Without the agitation of everyone, you truly feel the cool atmosphere of the house for the first time.

Should you light the chimney ? Not now, it's not that cold yet. You have time. You smile thinking about it. Yes, you have time ! In fact, you have the whole rest of the evening just for you ! Beaming, you run to your room to change in comfortable pajamas.

Your aunt probably has food in her kitchen but even though she's family, you're uncomfortable at the idea of taking stuff from her without asking. So you grabbed your own snacks. It's weird considering she always offer you to eat all you want.

When in underwear, you think that a good bath would actually be better than just changing into other clothes. And that's what you did, you turned on the water, put your music as loud as you could and slide in the bathtub, enjoying the warm water in these freezing days.

A good hour has gone since everyone had left, silence filled your ears. You were fully ready to sleep in your bed and rest. Well, that was your plan anyway until something crashed into the house startling you like never.

You curse, trying to ease your speeding heart. What the hell ? The sound came from above and then it was just next to you. Did something fall from the roof ? The sound crossed the house !

Of course, with a sound so precise, you immediately thought of the chimney. Did something just fall from it ? Like a tile or something bigger ? A brick, or more ?

Well, you're a little too old to believe in Santa Claus by now, but uh, you're not dreaming, right ? Okay, it's late, you're alone, it's creepy but that sound was probably from animals outside or decoration falling ? Plus, that house's old, it creaks sometimes. It's nothing, right ? Okay, it's clearly not creaking sounds but still.

You wait as still as a statue, contemplating your options. It's nothing, probably, as no sound can be heard anymore. So yeah, a brick that is.

Why does this kind of shit has to happen to you when you're alone ? Your whole family was literally here one hour ago ! You wouldn't be so paranoid if they were still with you !

Slowly but surely, taking your sweet time to get down each steps, you feel your phone vibrating in your hand in the process but aren't interested enough to look at it, eyes boring hole around you.

But when you set foot in the main room, you're terrified to discover ashes scattered on the ground from the chimney and further away in the room, reaching the kitchen, like something had spread them, leaving some kind of footprints. It wasn't human foot shape, fortunately, but it wasn't any animal's paw shape either.

What the fuck ?

Something entered ? What the hell ? How did it even went in the chimney in the first place ? Okay, you're creeped out now. Only, there's no sound in the house. It does not help you feel better, you have no idea if an animal's here with you, and if it's an animal, what kind ? It has to be heavy to do such a sound when falling and trailing that much ashes, on the other hand, it is able to climb a roof, apparently. You dearly hope it's not a bear, well, it's hard for a bear to enter by a chimney but, you know.

Quietly, you get out of the house without even bothering to take a jacket with you. There is absolutely no way you are staying in this haunted ass house. Alone in the snow outside, your eyes are fixated to the windows to search any kind of suspect movements, there's none.

You are absolutely freezing when you take out your phone to dial your aunt number. You need to ask her if there's any weird animals lurking in the area.

But of course, now that you're outside, there's no internet. Okay, you have to go back inside. It's okay, it's probably a bear, yeah, a baby bear. All cute and soft.

But the more you think about it, less you're convinced it's an animal.

Because how the fuck would it be able to go on the roof ! You saw videos on internet showing bears opening doors, it's quite impressive actually, but rooftop ? No, if one of them wanted to enter, they would have passed by the garage or one of the numerous doors of the house, not the damn chimney.

Is Santa Claus going to kill you ? That's the worst death ever.

Freezing your ass off outside, you decide to stay on the terrace right before the front door to get internet without needing to enter. But of course it doesn't work, it's like the lines are cut. Plus, you were scared whatever was inside would be able to punch through the window to grab you, but it's the numerous horror movie you saw talking.

You honestly have no idea what's safer; staying outside in the cold or staying inside with the intruder.

If the phone don't work, you at least need to join your family in town. You don't remember correctly where is it but there's literally one single straight road so you can definitely manage. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lay on the broken car in the alley.

Yes, one of the tire is flat but it still is able to drive, right ? You don't have any choice anyway. The closest city is something like thirty minutes in car away, so at foot ? Probably one hour. And without jacket in such an angry wind ? No, certainly not. You just need to get the key and you get out, simple.

They key, which is inside.

Okay, okay, you can do this. The key is directly to the left of the entrance, it's easy. You breath, hyping yourself up before you push the door open. It's creaking, your heart beats faster, but there is no sign of anyone having heard you. It could have tricked you into believing you imagined everything but the heavy ashes footstep are very well present.

Keeping your eyes on the house, trying to hold the perimeters safe and assuring nothing would come towards you, you throw your hand on the furniture supposed to held the key without looking at it. The door is still open wide behind you and you'd rather die than to close it even if it meant you were risking to catch a really bad cold for the rest of the holidays.

Only, after a few minutes, indicated by the stinging of your eyes after not blinking for so long, your hand remains empty. A quick glance to the furniture's way confirms you the worst: the keys are missing.

Of course, nothing's easy. Your mom probably took them to her room, to your despair. On the other hand, there's still no sound in the house, except for the strong wind coming from the open door behind you, which makes you cringe. If someone's here, the noise is definitely going to attract them to you. Though, you still don't want to close it.

What if it's a burglar ? What if they are burglars ? You pray it's not a group, hell, you hope no one's here ! But if you have to choose between being mugged by one or multiple people, the choice is already done.

Backing slowly, you start feeling watched and fear whatever's inside might come get you by behind thanks to the back door. You have to hurry, you go upstairs, you take the keys and you bolt outside. Yeah, it's easy, it's an easy plan.

Do you run ? It'll be quicker but you might be heard. Shit shit, what are you supposed to do ? You can't even pinpoint in which room, which area of the house the intruder is ! With your luck, you'll stumble on them in the hallway or even your bedroom.

You won't run, you're too terrified to do any sound. Removing your shoes, you put them between the wall and the door in order to block it if it ever comes to close while you weren't there. There's multiple carpet, your socks won't do too much sound and if you're too scared to put the shoes back when leaving you can still drive in socks, dangerous but you'll deal with that later.

One step at a time, you approach the creaking stairs, ears ready to isolate the slightest sound that could signify a presence near or far from you.

You would have much rather not use these stairs but they're the only way upstairs, even if they're noisy.

The first step is silent, just like the second and third, however, your weight on the next ones cause them to cry, making you wince and stop in your track. In total, this staircase is composed of fifteen steps. You know it, you've counted everything at least once here.

Fuck it, you already made too much noises. Whoever's here know damn well your position. Taking a big breath, you suddenly sprint every stairs, each one creaking in the process, not talking about the sound of your feet heavily hitting the wood. Stopping wasn't an option anymore, not being deterred, your legs finally bring you to your room where you lock yourself in, shutting the door with every locks available.

You sigh, falling to the ground and grabbing your shirt where your heart is. Your head is buzzing, your ears are ringing and your body screaming for help, everything is too hot for you, you can't think but you know it's not the end, you can't rest now.

So you get up and head as quietly as possible to the different furniture of the room. In your head, your pray that the intruder can't tell in which room you went. It's not long before you find the keys, your mum placed them beside your bag. And now ? It was a real trial having to come up here, and now you have to confront it all over again to go down ?

Okay, you're not mentally ready yet, you at least need to protect your back. You grab your phone, now having internet, and lowering the light as much as you can, you go to your socials to text someone.

You can't call the cops by yourself, it could mean talking and you can't allow that right now. However, your different social media won't even load. You're pretty sure a number for deaf people exist, but can't recall what is it. You try to type it on internet, but the page doesn't load as well. Of course, you don't have 4G since you're the one paying your subscription, that thing's expensive. Now, though, you really hate yourself.

To get out of this, you spam your friends phone in order for them to answer to make them call the police for you, the few of them that gave your their phone number at least. While doing so, you notice that Ethan Landry sent you a message a few minutes ago but deleted it. Weird, but he is so no surprise.

You don't stop spamming everyone, friends or family, it doesn't matter. But of course, your mum and the other are busy feasting staring at the show in town.

When you finally get an answer five minutes later (the longest minutes of your entire life), you feel relief flood your body, only for it to disappear when the name displayed was not the one of your friend, but of someone completely different.

Ethan Landry. Again. You retain a snort. Of course, him of all people. He doesn't have any damn social life, it's obvious he'd answer. He's typing, you wait impatiently for his message to be sent, it takes a few others seconds.

"Hey ^^" your screen displays. You want to explode your head on the nearest wall. Who's using those emojis ? "You're spending nice holidays ?" he adds.

What it that opening ? And why him ? Now ? He is not your friend, and isn't he busy ? Working too much for his class to stay the best of the best ? You don't want to talk to him. You're pensive, do you really have a choice in this situation ?

"I see you saw my message but haven't answered, are you ignoring me ?" And as if to light the mood of his already quite pitiful message, he sends you a small "lol".

No wonder he's still a virgin.

He's still online and you can't call anyone, if you talk, they're going to hear you. You don't like him but if he's the only one responding right now, you won't miss this chance. Just as you came to this conclusion, a noise of something falling echo through the house. You almost died on the spot, your heart not designed for this type of scare. Slowly, you hide under the bed, the huge blanket falling from both side of it protecting you from outsider's sight.

"Call copsfor me send them to m yaddress I beg you." you sent him, with a few mistakes as you're shaking, rushed and not watching the screen as you type. When sending him your address though, you watched cautiously the screen, feared he might send the cops somewhere else. To briefly explain him the situation, you sent him one simple word; intruder.

"Oh shit." he says and you never hated him more than right now. Why was this stupid idiot still typing when he should be calling the police ! Doesn't he understand the problem ? You really can't count on him.

He's stupid, you think. You have the keys now, that's all that matter. All is left to do is for you to bolt down to the car and leave. Steadying your breathing, you slide from under the bed, holding tightly the keys in your closed hand. You stand, walking towards the door; no sounds.

With a shaky hand, you grab the handle and open the door. Not getting out instantly, you're careful to check every corner of the hallway before leaving. You know how it is in horror movie, the protagonist often dies right before they can escape. You are not risking it. Your device is vibrating in your pocket, it's probably him again.

Reaching the main stairs, you put your foot in the air, ready to place it on the first step when your breath get stuck in your throat by the vision in front of you.

The main door is closed.

A cold chill run down your spine, raising up each one of your body hair. Why is it closed ? You specifically put your shoes between the door and the wall, preventing it from closing. And in the worst case, if the wind or the force of the heavy door still close, it would slam and alert you. But it didn't. How it is closed ?

You look around the room, not daring move anymore until you finally understand what happened. You're able to see both of your shoes, delicately placed side by side outside, on the freezing terrace. Someone moved them. Someone fucking took your shoes and deliberately put them outside, right in front of the window for you to see. If that's not provocation you have no idea what that is.

Either way, you are not trying to open it. Something is telling you it's completely locked. The wind is growing up by seconds, snowflakes flying everywhere. Fuck, it wasn't snowing earlier, you need to get out of here before you're completely stuck inside. That was your plan before you heard the back door downstairs shut and the dangling of keys, anyways.

Not waiting anymore, you get back to the safety of your room.

You can't calm yourself, you heard keys ! The intruder has keys and is locking you two together ! Shit, shit shit what do you do ? You have to get out of here, quickly before it's too late. If you end up completely locked up, all would be left to do for the intruder is to simply visit the different room until you're dead.

Think, think, how can you escape ? Your eyes end up on the window which you rush to. Opening it, the freezing air outside penetrate the room, slapping you in the face with it's now pouring snow.

You're something like 10 meters/32 inches up from the ground. It does not sound like a good idea to jump from here but do you really have a choice here ? Maybe you can wait a little until the snow reach a good height, so falling in it won't hurt.

No, the negative temperature and extreme weather would cause you to die of hypothermia. You close the window, still keeping the idea somewhere in the corner of your mind. You won't jump now, but if things get too complicated, you are not hesitating.

Maybe you can keep it a tad open, just in case. So you don't have to struggle to open it. You regret not having tried to open the main door earlier, sure the shoes were put away but maybe it wasn't really locked. You thought so but your fear were really what was driving your mind at the moment, you have to try.

There is this old broken glass clock on the wall, you could use it as a weapon. If the intruder comes at you, you explode the glass on their head. You cheer yourself up, stretching your limbs. You can still run if you can't fight.

You can do this, you can do this.

You still didn't encounter anyone after all, maybe you're fine. Standing up, a new found determination filling you, you head to the door. You try to think of a better plan but options are not running to you. It's not like you have a better choice.

You lay your hand on the handle, ready to fight your fears but you stop in your track when light musical notes start invading the silence of the house. You're confused, frowning your brows, you try to think of any reason for it to happen.

There's music coming from downstairs and that's when you know you're done for. Someone's here and is definitely toying with you. By music, it's not even a scary song with lyrics to help you understand what's going to happen to you, or a creepy music deepening the tense atmosphere, oh no. It's Michael Bublé singing his dumb 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas'.

Great, perfect, a festive music for a festive death, right ? Are you going to get killed on rhythm of it, too ? For a moment, you thought about it being a whole joke from one of your cousin, but it would be too elaborated. The best jokes are the shortest, and this one's endless.

Not having anything better to do, you hide once again under the bed and turn on your phone. Ethan sent you a message earlier but you did not look at it. You frown upon seeing it.

"Can I tell you something ? It's a secret tho. I'm a little ashamed of it."

Does he really fucking think it's the perfect moment for him to confide his secret to you ? "Police" you simply send him, wanting to remind him of the goal of this conversation, hoping he'd understand. After all, he did not even confirmed having called anyone.

But he never answers your reminder and instead send you a photo. It's blurry and at first you don't understand what it is until you recognize the house, your aunt's house. The house you're currently in. It's a picture of you from earlier, when you first went outside after discovering the ashes everywhere. You're outside, before the window, checking your phone while hugging yourself to try and protect you from the cold.

"Where are you ? I want to talk to you." he sends right after.

Your blood runs cold, suddenly the painful and awkward position you're in doesn't bother you much anymore. Ethan Landry, took a picture of you here. Ethan Landry is here, right now. What's happening ?

"We need to talk." he insists.

Is that man the one who entered by the chimney ? Is he the intruder ? You're not typing anything and it must stress him as he adds a stupid "Please answer". How did he even know you were here ? Did he follow you ? How ?

"What do you want" you typed, wanting to know why he was here. You were desperate for answer, you never talked to this guy, he never talked to you ! What does he want now ? Is it linked with your friend ? Did she ditch him ? Maybe she did, and he thinks it's your fault.

But against all odd, it's not at all the answer gives you.

"It's about us."

What ? What 'us' ? What is he talking about ? "Us" as in you and him or "us" as in him and the whole group ? Because either way, you have no idea what he wants. And even if you did, you doubt there's a problem big enough that requires him to fucking break into your house.

"I have a gift for you as well." No, it does not sound good at all. You keep spamming your friends, begging them to answer. You're telling them you're hiding under your bed and that they need to call the police right now or you'll end up dead. At one point, you start to write another message to your friend when you receive a notification from Ethan.

"They won't answer." he says. And for a second, you dare think that he may be connected to your phone. But you quickly push that thought aside, only for it to come back as fast when you're typing "Ethan s insde my hhouse" and "Don't do that" is sent to you before you press send.

He's bluffing, you're sure. You send your message anyway, if you die, at least they'll know. However, to confirm your doubts, you write two question marks in the blank space to check if he's able to see them. To your horror, Ethan sends you two question marks as well.

It's just a coincidence. It has to be anyway because that'd mean Ethan knows where you are. Who are you kidding ? He knew from the very start where you were. He's just tormenting you. Testing yet again, you type "what" in the chat space, and of course Landry sends you "What what ?".

That's it, he has access to your phone. Your body is boiling from the inside, nothing makes sense anymore. How did he hack into your phone ? Why and when ? Since when ? You swipe the notification away from the screen and turn your phone off. Laying it beside you, waiting for another person to answer.

He planned everything, controlling your phone, following you, getting you alone and vulnerable.

It's probably time for you to use the window. You have the keys after all. You'll jump. Get to your car or something. Besides, maybe you won't break your ankle. maybe you'll be able to escape, run in the forest and found a shelter somewhere, wait until the weather is good enough to come back and find your family.

Maybe you'll fall, break something and wake up only to realize that it was all a dream, that you're safe and sound. Ethan did nothing, he is still the weirdo from your class, flirting with your friend and you'll spend a beautiful Christmas with your family.

Your body start to move in order to leave your hiding spot, but each one of your muscle stops dead when slow and steady footsteps are heard in the hallway, and seconds later, the door of the room creaks open. And then you remember with horror that Ethan found the keys, and that locking the door won't protect you.

He knows you're here. You try to recall everything you did that could've hurt him, if one day you insulted him, mocked him but nothing. Why, why is he doing this to you ? Tears fill up your eyes, but you have to dry them. If you have to escape, you need to have hundred percent of your vision. Fleeing with blurry eyes will slow you down.

Ethan doesn't budge. You're too scared to change position and see where he is, but he sounds like he is at the end of the end. You probably could've saw his feet if you tried, but you didn't want to.

Your phone stirs, reporting a new notification. You know who that comes from already. Every muscle in you is tensed, refusing to move. But he waits for you to do so. So you turn it on, checking his message.

He sent you another picture, one which absolutely freeze you from head to toe. It's a photo where only a bed is visible, the exact one serving you as hiding spot. What's horrifying however, is that a large knife is displayed on it, along with a printed photo of you two. You recognize this cursed picture, the one your teacher took of you with the model.

He cut out everyone else, only you two are left. It's the only photo you have of him, and it's probably the same for him, the only picture he has of you. You're never beside each other after all.

You don't give a fuck about the photo, he has a knife. You're alone together in a room and he has a knife.

"Are you mad at me ?" he texts but you can't do anything except try to keep your cries quiet. You knew he was weird, but fuck ! Not that weird !

You hear him chuckle, and seconds after the ruffle of his clothes alarms you. What is he doing ? He's moving, but why ? You don't know what he's doing until his hand firmly close around your ankle and pull you out of under the bed, you scream, try to fight back, throw your legs at his face but you can't even see it; he wears a mask.

Not only a mask, in fact, he is completely disguised.

Window is all you can think. You have to jump out of the window. Never slackening your attacks, you finally inflict him pain, his mask twisting on the side in the process. He falls on his back, holding his, likely, jaw.

You are not waiting for him to get over it as you jump on the bed, slide and grab the open window. You pull it wider and leap head first. You did not think this through, only acting out of pure survival. But at the same time, maybe you would've done the same thing, choosing between breaking your legs or arms, in this situation, you'd chose to break your arms.

But Ethan is as determined as you, before your body can completely fall, he grabs both of your tibias with strong hands. Blood is already falling to your head, you feel it heat up despite the freezing atmosphere.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing ?" yell the man holding you.

Hanging upside down, only held by the legs by a crazy man clearly wasn't part of your Christmas plan. You wiggle your body, trying to make him let go or at least slip out of his grip but you never saw someone as mad as Ethan. You lay your hands flat on the outside wall before you, outstretching your arms to grab something allowing you to fall, to pull yourself down but it's no use.

You already feel yourself being lift up. Slowly, Ethan's hand pull you up, leaving your ankles to grab just below your knees. One of your foot hit his face but he never relents. You yell in the wind for the world to hear, you struggle, fight but Ethan's something else. Ethan won't let you go.

The more he pulls you up, the more his hand grabs of you. While your feet are back inside, your hands never let go of the window border, refusing categorically to let him engulf you inside. You don't stop yelling at him to let you go but you quiet down a second when two other person enter your vision, both in the same disguise as Ethan.

They're outside, braving the harsh snow, just below the window. Exactly where you would have fallen if Landry didn't grabbed you. The smaller of them has a sign in hand, and when you read what's on it, you think you should have jumped and killed yourself.

"Merry Christmas, in-law.

Welcome to the family"

my brain the past month: PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DANO PAUL DA-

percolator

warnings: 16+ smokin weed, mentions / talking about sex (no actual sex)

a/n: i attempted to unlock every bit of stoner knowledge i had from my high school days, but the weed fucked with my memory so don’t mind the weird writing. i am not dumb my brain is just the fried egg from the DARE commercial!!!! also my parents (born:1972) claim that everyone called weed pot back then so im rolling with that. u call it dated i call it historical accuracy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

you knocked on your boyfriend’s front door, giddily bouncing from foot to foot. the plastic bag held in your opposite hand brushed against your thigh as you were waiting for him to answer the door.

seconds later, you were met with the face of your mulleted boyfriend. cheeks flushed and eyes a shade redder than the usual look of acute sleep deprivation. he was probably high.

Afficher davantage

Idk is it just me or was this was the first thing that came to ur mind when gojo dolce & gabbana fit dropped

Not the shoulder pat in a date 💀

I wouldn't mind holding your hand. I guess.

13 from creativepromptsforwriting's Grumpy Affectionate Dialogue list.

Cloud Strife x reader Fluff

--

"So, how'd it go?" Tifa asks the second you've walked through the door - it hadn't even closed properly behind you yet. Had she been waiting to pounce? "We don't say hello now?" You raise an eyebrow, shrugging off your jacket. You’d been dreading her interrogation - it had been a sleepless night.

"Hello.” She grins. “How'd it go?" She puts her hands down on the counter and leans forward as you approach.

"Fine." You shrug, going to lift up the latch to join her behind the bar, but Tifa is quick – shifting so she’s now leaning on top of it, blocking your entrance.

“You pay me to work here, remember?”

“And do you see any customers? Anyway, this is important. I don’t think you understand how rare it is to go on a date with Cloud Strife. Spill!”

You sigh, sitting down heavily on the stool. Really, you should’ve known that the brunette would be keen to hear every single detail…

You’d started working at Seventh Heaven nearly four months ago now. Before Meteor, you’d worked in Wall Market as a cocktail waitress, doing bar tricks to earn tips off a bunch of Shira employees. It was just by chance you’d been walking by when Tifa had put up the help wanted sign in the window. The two of you had got on immediately and your skills honed behind the bar meant you could really start straightaway. The first time you’d seen Cloud walk in, you were immediately attracted to him - the blue eyes, blonde hair, the muscular, toned arms on display... Who wouldn’t be? He, however, seemed very indifferent to you, though Tifa disagreed. “He’s shy. He likes you - I promise."

It felt odd at first when she deemed herself a matchmaker – Cloud and her shared an apartment, with two kids – Denzel and Marlene – she assured you they were strictly platonic and she’d love to see him without a scowl on his face. Apparently he was always interested when you were working, especially if you were on a closing shift. Now everyone was based in Edge, all sorts frequented the bar. You’d experienced the same in Wall Market and weren’t afraid to cut people off but it was nice to have some sort of muscle around in case anyone became a little out of line. You thought it was Tifa’s doing, as Cloud would always offer up his services on the nights you were responsible for closing, even walking you home afterwards. When you’d thank him, he’d shrug, saying not to think anything of it.

He was chivalrous, you’d reasoned, trying not to get your hopes up there was something more to it, until two nights ago when he’d lingered at the point he’d usually head off when you’d unlocked your front door.

“Wait.” You span round on your heels at the sound of his voice, surprised that he’d gone off routine. “Erm, would you… Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? With me.”

“With you?” You’re stunned.

“Forget I said-“

“No, I’d love to.” You interrupted, worried you’d blown it.

“Okay. Great. Er, I’ll text you.” And Cloud had then strode off into the night before you could say another word.

He’d texted - you assumed he’d got your number off Tifa from her string of texts the next morning - saying he’d pick you up from yours at 7, that he’d got a table at a restaurant nearby. You’d walked past it a few times but never been, and it seemed a popular spot for first dates - intimate, yet not overly fancy. He’d arrived promptly, saying you looked "nice" and that’s where things had gone a little downhill. There was nothing that happened to really distinguish this as a date...

“He didn’t get within three feet of me at any time the walk there, or the walk back. I know he’s quiet, but besides asking me if the food was okay, he didn’t say much at all at dinner. And then, after he’d walked me home, I said I’d had a really nice time, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was nervous, you know?" Tifa nods. "But then he stepped forward, thanked me and clapped me on the shoulder, before he strode off.” You lay your head down on your arms. “It was a pity date, Tifa.”

“Okay, Cloud’s more hopeless than I thought,” she pats you gently on the head, “but it wasn’t a pity date. He set it all up because he wanted to take you out, I promise.”

“He could’ve swung that big sword of his all around him and not hit me, the distance he was keeping.” You continue talking into your arms, your voice muffled.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, don’t!" Your head shoots up, “That’ll make me look and feel even more pathetic. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a wake-up call.”

“You’re not pathetic. He’s just shy. Plus, I bet he’s feeling even worse than you are. He was out before I even woke up this morning.” She pauses, grinning slyly. “I did think that he might’ve stayed the night at yours…”

Your face flushes at that. “What?! No. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” The door opens and the two of you look, you praying it's not Cloud. "Delivery!" A man chirps. "Enough about my dismal love life, okay?" You get to your feet and go to take in the stock.

--

You got home that evening just after 6pm, preparing yourself for a quiet evening and an early night after the sleepless one before. It was surprising when there was a knock at the door an hour or so later – you weren’t expecting anyone. You looked through the eyehole and were nervous to see the tell-tale spikes of blonde hair, a nervous expression across Cloud’s face. Had Tifa spoken to him? Oh, Shiva…

You unlock the door, pulling it open cautiously.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles, a little awkwardly, but it’s sweet too. “Sorry, are you busy? I should’ve texted…”

“No, not at all.” You curse inwardly, you could’ve phrased that differently, sound more aloof. “What brings you here?”

“Uh, yeah…” It’s then you notice he has a hand behind his back. It’s quickly whipped out in front of you, holding a small, handpicked bouquet of pink, white and yellow flowers. “I wanted to give you these.”

“Cloud…” Your eyes widen, taking in the display. They’re the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. “Thank you.” You accept them delicately, worried they might wilt instantly if you’re too rough with them.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Sure. Let me just put these in water. Erm, do you want to come in?” You step back in anticipation.

“No, I’ll wait here.” He folds his arms.

“Oh, okay,” you nod. “I won’t be long.” You let the door swing close behind you, still holding the flowers so delicately. He delivers you hand-picked flowers but doesn’t want to come in? Is he breaking up with you? Can you break up even if you weren’t together in the first place? You grab a glass, filling it with water from the tap and placing the small bouquet in gently, before setting it down in the windowsill. You wonder if you’ll look at them in the same light when you return.

--

Edge, like its predecessor, had never been a pretty city in the desert. In the early evening though, fairy lights donned by the surrounding buildings cast a nice glow about the place and it was quiet as the two of you strolled through. Cloud hadn’t been the most talkative, as usual. Sometimes it looked like he wanted to say something, a comment on the tip of his tongue, but then his mouth would close and he’d nod to whatever nonsense you were spouting to fill the silence. It was at one of those moments when you hadn’t particularly been paying attention to where you were walking, catching your foot on an uneven part of the ground. You brace yourself for the impact and the embarrassment, but a hand grabs your own, yanking you back and upright, another hand on the small of your back – Cloud.

“You okay?” His brow is furrowed in concern. Your heart is thudding at the shock of tripping, or maybe the closeness of you two? It’s hard to tell.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, clumsy,” you know your face is red. “Thanks.” The hand from your back falls away, deeming your balance stable enough but your other hand isn’t released straightaway. You look down at the appendage in question, Cloud’s hand firmly clasped around yours. His eyes follow what you’re looking at and he seems to realise as his cheeks grow flush in the dim light of dusk, letting go abruptly.

“Do you even like me?” The question slips out of your mouth before you can even think what you’re saying. He looks almost startled by the directness of it.

“I thought the date and flowers made that obvious.”

“The flowers, okay, but the date and just now… Like, I know not everyone’s keen on public displays of affection, but you don’t even want to be within arm’s length of me…”

“I wouldn’t mind holding your hand. I guess.” It’s mumbled, his blue eyes directing at the ground.

“What?” You wonder if you misheard.

“I’d quite like to, to be honest. I’m just…” He meets your eyes at this point. “I haven’t really done this before.”

“That’s okay, neither have I.”

He looks sceptical. “That can’t be true.”

“I wasn’t exactly surrounded by gentlemen wanting to sweep me off my feet in Wall Market,” you smile. “Besides, it means we can try and work this stuff out together, if you want.” You hold your hand out, hoping he won’t notice the slight tremor.

To your relief, he takes it, deftly lacing his fingers through your own.

“I’d like that.”

- Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

meadow afterglow

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

cw: fluff everyone !! pro hero bakugou, gender neutral reader, reader is a florist and owns a flower shop, reader loves flowers/plants/nature, swearing ofc, brief violence (attempted assault on reader from some strangers), awkward katsuki hours incoming- he’s super whipped but helpless, i switch povs from bakugou to reader often, tiny bit of angst.. some misunderstanding—both bakugou and reader are idiots that can’t communicate

wc: 5.2k words

analysis: bakugou fucking hates flowers—they’re too fragrant, too cliché, too romantic. and yet, he finds himself always coming back to the same flower shop once his shift ends.

———

bakugou katsuki doesn’t like flowers. hates them, despises them—loathes them even! flowers just aren’t his thing.

when they came along with prizes (where he won first place of course), he’d always snort and throw them away in some trashcan once he could.

when kids back in his middle and high school days were brave enough to make a move on him, he’d send a spark from his palm and ultimately burn their flowers (and hopes) away.

he does the exact same thing to this day with his fans if they were perhaps lucky enough to encounter him during his patrols. (it looks bad when the press covers it obviously and that’s only one problem his pr team deals with.)

so yeah, in conclusion: bakugou isn’t particularly fond of flowers. it’s one of his many supposedly unpleasant traits—not that he really cares. now, he’s changed in these past years, truly, but he’s still maintained some of the roughness of his personality.

‘cause when you think of pro hero dynamight, number two on the hero charts (interchangeably with number one pro hero deku), you don’t think of flowers.

but… here he is. it’s just around thirty minutes past six in the evening, the ropes of dusk in the sky evident as the city prepares for nightlife. his shift had ended a while ago, but everyday, on the way home, he makes sure to stop by a small shop. a flower shop of all places. and bakugou katsuki hates flo- yeah, you get the point.

he doesn’t even know why he hesitates going entering the shop—he’s pretty damn sure you can spot him from outside. his visits are expected. the sound of the dainty bell ringing reaches his ears as he walks in.

“back so soon, dynamight?”

he grunts and turns his head away, sharply avoiding your gaze so you miss the squinting of his red eyes. you’re behind the counter as usual, fixing the arrangement of some daisies in their pots.

his cheeks burn but he’s lingering by the entrance, feigning his attention on the shelves decked with plants so you don’t see any blush. “yeah, yeah.. jus’ give me some damn flowers already,” he demands gruffly.

the sound of you briefly laughing has his head whipping back to you almost instantly. he catches the sight of you lightly shaking your head in amusement.

“anything like usual then, dynamight?”

fuck, he can’t help but wonder what his actual name would sound like off your tongue. it’s always been dynamight this, dynamight that—and while he certainly doesn’t mind, he just can’t help but wonder. when you tilt your head at him, he realizes he had been staring. he clears his throat. “yeah, whatever.”

finally, he walks toward the counter, moving around the small display tables topped with a pretty arrangement of succulents as you beam at him.

“alrighty then!” you clasp your head together, nodding for a bit. “i hope you don’t mind tulips then. we got a fresh new batch so they should just do fine!”

he nods in acknowledgement. “yeah, that’s fine f’me,” he huffs. and as you send him another smile and you dismiss yourself to the back to fetch said tulips, he can’t help but think about your first meeting.

it had been a week or two ago. a usual day of kicking ass was over and he was just on the way home until longtime friend kirishima eijiro called in a favor—he had practically begged bakugou to grab him some flowers for his date with mina since he was running late.

begrudgingly, katsuki had agreed, insisting only because the redhead was being so damn annoying. and so he pulled in to the first flower shop he saw—yours. he had stormed in and just demanded for a bouquet and the rest was history.

he found himself coming back even though he didn’t even need fucking flowers. (at first, he tells himself it’s because he’s got nothing better to do. and then he convinces himself it’s just to ensure the safety of another civilian, since you close nearing nighttime and walk home. and then he can’t lie to himself anymore that he finds you a tad bit .. cute.)

when you return, he breaks out of his reminiscing and looks back to you, blinking expectantly. “here you go!” you chirp, presenting the tucked tulips in some wrapper.

he’s grabbing his wallet from his pocket with a huff. “right.” he can feel your gaze on him patiently and he almost fumbles with his hands. (how embarrassing—he’s done this so many times too.)

and when you exchange the amount of money for the flowers, the briefest of touches from your hands makes him stutter in his movements just subtly. once the flowers are with him, he can smell its scent and he wants to sneeze.

he brushes it off and raises a brow at you. he wants to say something, maybe tell how endearing it is to see how your name tag is lopsided on your shirt and your wrinkled work apron has some stains of dirt on it. but instead, he says- “go home, dumbass.”

he knows you’re used to his rather blunt comments and words, but he swears he can feel the tips of his ears burn with a scorch as you snort and giggle in amusement. “i could tell you the same thing, dynamight,” you say back.

the flowers shift in his hold and he eyes the counter for two seconds to regain himself as he clears his throat and scoffs. “i meant- it gets dark faster nowadays, ‘kay? go home.”

you salute him playfully. “of course. you know i don’t close up the shop until you leave. you’re my last customer, dynamight.” (he knows.) “drive safe!”

“mhm.” he grunts and decides to take his leave before he makes a fool of himself. you wave him goodbye enthusiastically as he exits your shop and gets back into his car.

and when he returns to his apartment, he places his tulips with the rest of the flowers safely.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

the morning is just creeping into the starting hours of noon—it gets a bit busier around this time with people in the city. peak business hour because sometimes, there’s always that one person who’s looking for some flowers or the perfect plant.

but right now, your shop is empty. the wafting scent of roses newly perched on the side counter fills the air but you don’t mind it as you sweep some fallen leaves from the floor.

you had turned on the small tv hooked up in the corner of the ceiling for some background noise, humming to yourself to pass time, but its current broadcast catches your attention.

“pro hero dynamight is on the scene of the ongoing shionosu bank robbery with the help of some sidekicks and-”

you abandon your sweeping to watch the small, short-lived clips of the robbery the news station has to offer, but seeing the familiar red-eyed blonde on screen has you feeling all fluttery.

you fingers tighten around the broomstick and you shake your head to yourself. you had somewhat gotten attached to the explosive hero throughout his daily visits—his honest and brash presentation may be off putting to others but you don’t mind. he’s like a literal explosion in your little life. you like to think that your plants enjoy his company.

besides, it’s sort of cute knowing that such an aggressive man had the time to stop by your shop nearly every single day to buy some flowers. and then you shake your head again—he was buying flowers, most likely for someone he was seeing.

you can still remember your first meeting with him like it was yesterday. man had strutted into your shop like he owned it and ordered you to give him some flowers. something along the lines of “oi! you still open? get me some shit for a date or something!” and that’s how it happened.

you wouldn’t change whatever this.. relationship you had with the pro hero for the world but it did hurt a little, knowing he was coming to your shop for your flowers only to give them to someone else. why else did he buy them?

the sound of his voice from the tv has you perking up and you’re quite embarrassed of yourself by the the effect he has on you, even on a damn screen.

“hah? just some fuckin’ d-list criminals who chose the wrong day to rob a bank,” he barks at the reporter, “you really think i couldn’t handle those shits?” of course, his words are poorly censored and you can’t help but laugh.

yeah, you’re okay with what you have. you’re happy that you can somewhat see another side of dynamight through your little exchanges.

the bell ringing then diverts your attention away from the tv and you politely greet an elderly lady walking in. you place aside the broom and head back behind the counter, content with knowing that you’ll see him later today.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

bakugou comes in during his usual time, casual clothes only slightly rumpled since he had been in a hurry to make sure to make it before you closed up the shop.

and there you are as always, behind the counter with a sweet smile. “good evening, dynamight!”

he sighs quietly, taking in the calm and scenery of your shop. it’s a welcomed contrast after the hectic events of today—annoying criminals thinking they could take him down and even more annoying reporters with nosy questions.

“hey.” he grunts, then asks curiously, “how was your day?” he decides to ignore how pleasant surprise flicks over your face by roaming through the shelves on the side.

“it was pretty good,” you hum in reply. there’s a pause and then you add, “i saw you on tv today. a robbery, huh?”

the realization that you saw him in action on screen makes his cheeks heat up for some reason but he plays it cool, peering at you from behind one of the shelves. “oh, yeah,” he chuffs, “impressed?”

you giggle to yourself, crossing your arms as you observe him. “impressed by how they somehow managed to censor you, that’s for sure.”

katsuki winces only subtly and rolls his eyes as he comes out from behind the shelving to approach the counter. “yeah, yeah. pretty sure my pr team is gonna try ‘n whoop my ass again for that.” he barks out a rough laugh. “as if they could.”

you tilt your head back as you laugh with him, and fuck, he thinks he can watch you laugh all day. it’s music to his ears. “right,” you snort, “they can try, huh?”

he straightens his shirt somewhat, noticing the obvious wrinkles on them. “oh, yeah. you watch me the whole time?” he’s teasing.

“you wish,” you banter back, now uncrossing your arms to drum your fingers on the table absentmindedly. “this woman came in for some flowers. she was so kind- i gave her some delphiniums!”

he tilts his head, brows furrowing. “delphi-what now?” he huffs, leaning against the counter as he watches you brighten up. (damn, are you cute. but he’s not gonna say that out loud.)

“delphiniums are pretty.” you sigh and then start to ramble, “i gave her some royal larkspurs. pretty easy to take care of at the start! they usually symbolize dignity and grace, amongst some other things like sincerity, dedication- oh, i’m talking too much, aren’t i?” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “you’re just here for some flowers, sorry. uh, just anything like usual?”

bakugou blinks and chuckles softly. “nah, don’ worry. like hearing you talk.” shit, did he really say that? he straightens his posture and clears his throat, trying to act all nonchalant. “and uh, actually- i’ll take the larkspurs or whatever.”

you gaze is wide before you nod with a bright smile. “larkspurs it is.”

later that night, he adds those beautiful arching flowers of blue with his growing collection, another reminder of you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

god, how bakugou hates commission meetings with a passion. what he hates even more is waiting for them to actually start. ‘cause that means he actually has to socialize with his fellow colleagues.

like fucking deku here.

most of the heroes are lingering around the long table, and here’s his childhood friend, rambling on with the familiar faces of half ‘n half bastard and round cheeks, and they’re entirely invested with his current dilemma. “i just don’t know what to get her! i’m overthinking this, right? just a simple gift or some flowers could do, right?”

ochako pats midoriya’s shoulder reassuringly, saying, “you shouldn’t worry about it too much, deku. i’m sure your mom would love anything you get her!”

deku shakes his head as he continues mumbling in thought. even after all these years, the nerd never lost some of his annoying traits, much to bakugou’s irritation. old habits die hard, he supposes. (however, when you ramble, he finds that he doesn’t want you to stop.)

some of the others are joining in on the conversation to pass time—there’s fucking both dunce face and soy sauce face and he’s pretty sure he’s one second away from blowing the shit out of all of ‘em. how the hell did he tolerate them in high school?

before icyhot can open his mouth and surely say something idiotic, bakugou groans and turns in his chair to face them, dragging a hand over his face. “oh, for the love of- can you shut your trap already? jus’ get her some larkspurs or some shit.”

fuckin’ nerd looks at him all curious and interested, and he’s got the attention of the others now as well. “larkspurs, kacchan?” deku questions.

“yeah,” he huffs, turning his gaze away. he recites their meaning he had learned from you instinctively, crossing his arms and kicking his feet up onto the table.

denki then speaks up, “woah, kacchan. since when were you a flower expert?” the electric hero grins and leans forward and the others are obviously interested too.

“fuck off!” katsuki snaps roughly, “i ain’t no expert on some damn flowers. hate those fuckin’ things.”

he grumbles when the others laugh and continue to tease him whilst deku thanks him profusely. yeah—he’s still a damn nerd.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

it’s another day of business. still midday, with the sun taking its place in the high in the sky. the afternoons aren’t as hot anymore, and you know you should start to move some of the display plants outside back inside but you’ll get to that later.

a lovely couple had left earlier with their desired flowers for their upcoming wedding and you had happily aided them. once they had left, you decided to take a small break, slouching on the counter.

you can’t help but let your thoughts drift back to a certain blonde. judging how he really didn’t care what flowers he got—other than the time he had asked for the larkspurs—you guessed his partner really didn’t mind the type of flowers they received either.

and as if your thoughts had summoned him, the bell rings and the door opens to reveal the man plaguing your mind, fully decked out in his hero costume.

“d-dynamight?” you yelp in surprise, immediately fixing your posture as you stare at him. he only comes at the end of the day, after his work is over and yours is nearly done—what the hell is he doing here? in the afternoon?

“ya busy?” bakugou grunts, making his way in without any further words.

he looks so out of place here—brandished armor and heavy duty boots sounding heavy on the floor. you’re pretty sure he almost knocked over the shelves with how big his gauntlets are. he looks made for battle but here he is, standing expectantly, surrounded by flowers and plants.

“um- um, no?” you then shake your head. “what’re you doing here? not that i mind! it’s just.. you’ve never come in the middle of the day before! what if someone sees you?”

he makes sure his grenadier bracers don’t actually knock down your hard work of arrangements, looking to you. “s’why i’m gonna be quick, idiot. can’t come later tonight so ‘m here now.”

“o-oh! of course.” you rush around the counter to pick something simple to offer to him, since he doesn’t seem to care again on what he’ll receive. you’re aware of his eyes following you as you grab some false indigos for a bundle.

“stay safe out there, dynamight,” you bid him, holding out the flowers for him to take. “i’ll see you some other time then?” you hate how hopeful you sound.

his red irises linger on you for a couple of seconds before he nods and pays up. “yeah, you will. you stay safe, idiot.“

his words make you feel warm—with the false indigos now with him, you simply smile. you won’t tell him that they symbolize protection; maybe he can learn that another day.

(later on, you see a media outlight that reads PRO HERO DYNAMIGHT SEEN WITH FLOWERS… HAS HE FOUND A PARTNER? and you hate how the title makes your stomach churn with jealousy—but seeing your flowers tucked delicately in his arms is worth it.)

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

bakugou actually doesn’t get to see you for a couple of days. there had been a change in his schedule and he had been assigned for some overnight shifts along with some other heroes in another district due to the rise of criminal activity there.

but he’s back now, thankfully, and he’s antsy to see you after all this time. (mind you, it’s only been three or four days. smitten, he is, for the attractive florist that supplies him with flowers even though he claims he hates them. on a side note, he hopes his assistant had taken good care of the false indigos he had placed in his office.)

so as he drives down the familiar street, katsuki can’t help but wonder if you still wait for him so you can close the shop. it has been a while since his last appearance that one early afternoon, so even though he wouldn’t be surprised that you don’t, he couldn’t lie and say he’d be a bit disappointed.

but as he pulls in into the parking lot, he’s furious.

you had just closed the shop, not even a few feet away from the door as a gang of looming strangers crowd in towards you, all hunched and shady as you match their stares warily.

katsuki isn’t sure he’s moved faster than he has in his life—he’s scrambling out of the car to help you when you manage to land a sucker punch square into one of the asshole’s jaws. with your flank exposed, another one lunges for you and you scream.

“you fucker!” he snarls and he reaches you in record time, the one you had already knocked to the side being met with an accurately aimed kick to the gut from his boot before he sends an explosion that has the remaining three flying.

when bakugou sees that none of them are making an effort to get up, he slips out of his offensive stance and immediately turns to you in concern, eyes roaming for any injuries. “are you hurt? did they touch you?” he demands, brows furrowed. “i’m-”

he falters when you simply stare at him in awe. the silence between you two is deafening and he doesn’t know how to interpret it. he starts, worried, “hey, are you-”

you arms wrapping him around has him inhaling sharply. his arms linger, unsure of what to do but he accepts your embrace delicately. “thank you, dynamight,” you murmur after a moment, still holding him.

he breathes softly, and he’s all quiet when he speaks again. “..it’s bakugou to you,” he tells you gruffly, “got it?”

his words have caught you by surprise—he knows it by the way your eyes widen when you pull back to look at him. he meets your stare readily.

“thank you, bakugou,” you say gently, and his gaze softens. (hearing his name roll off your tongue is something he can get used to, he decides.)

he then chuckles, all fond. “remind me not to get you mad. that punch looked nasty.”

you laugh genuinely, and katsuki can’t help but think about how much he missed hearing it.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

bakugou drives you home every night from then on.

you had no problem before, as your apartment building isn’t that far off, perhaps a fifteen minute walk, pushing ten if you jogged a little, and that was something you could manage. until the incident a couple weeks ago.

you definitely feel safer with him escorting you, even when you did protest that he didn’t have to waste his time driving to your shop, waiting for you to close and then dropping you off at your apartment—but he insisted. like, almost put you in a headlock if your dumbass didn’t listen insisted. (he still buys flowers every time too.)

and as giddy as it made you to spend more time with the pro hero, the reminder that he was supposedly taken was enough for you to know your limits. he’s simply doing his job—protecting people, s’all.

but in moments like this, you think you can selfishly enjoy yourself.

he’s blasting his music—some sort of punk rock that you can’t deny is pretty catchy—with his newly acquired lilacs resting on the center console for him to take home. it’s a bit silly, hearing such vulgar lyrics in the background as the petals of the magenta flowers shake slightly.

“you’ll enjoy your new home with bakugou, won’t you?” you coo at the plant, brushing your fingers over it tenderly. “he’ll take good care of you, i’m sure.”

bakugou’s got one hand on the wheel and he casts you an amused glance. as the car approaches a red light, he turns down the music and snorts. “are you seriously talking to the fuckin’ flowers?”

you lightly glare at him, a smile quirking up on the corners of your lips. “it helps them grow when you talk to ‘em nicely!”

“oh, yeah?” he raises a brow, snorting again—but he’s got an amused smirk on his face now as he focuses back on driving. “i’ll keep that in mind then, idiot.”

you sneak subtle side glances at him the rest of the ride, admiring his beauty—so close yet so far.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

this is so fucking stupid, bakugou thinks. he should be buying flowers for you, not from you—or whatever couples do nowadays to please their partners. but here he is, back again. even if he is your drive home, this weird tradition of buying your flowers he had gotten accustomed is getting old. he just hopes you’re getting the hint that he’s not exactly here for the flowers.

katsuki doesn’t even bother announcing himself when he doesn’t see you behind the counter—you’re probably somewhere in the back tidying up some final things so you can leave, so he starts looking for something to buy already.

“hey, got anything new f’me to buy?” he calls out then, and he hears some rustling from the back room. he figures he might help you out so without much thought, he saunters around the counter, following the noise of your muffled movements.

your voice rings out, “yeah, i do! just lemme-” way closer than before and just as he enters the doorway of the backroom, you appear—walking right into him.

now, obviously he’s a wall. lean and fine muscle make up his body—and you crash into him, yelping when you stumble back in surprise.

bakugou’s reflexes are quick and he manages to catch you in time—his arm dips low and braces the small of your back before you can fall over. “fuckin’ idiot,” he huffs out, “be careful.”

“hey!” you cry out in protest, “you’re the one who was standing there! for someone so loud, you sure are stealthy.”

“ah? i can be plenty fucking stealthy!” he argues, voice booming against the walls and proving your point.

you giggle at that—and that’s when katsuki realizes you’re both so fucking close. he can see the shape of your lips and the way your eyes gleam in the lighting from above. he freezes.

you seem to realize it too, falling silent for a couple of heartbeats. bakugou clears his throat and lets you go. “alright, brat. gonna give me my flowers so we can fuckin’ leave already?”

he thinks he sees your shoulders relax and fall down before you nod and brush past him. “yeah, of course.”

he scoffs and follows you, wondering what it’d be like to kiss you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

you twiddle with some ribbons laced around some pottery, trying to redo some decorations on them since you can spare some time.

bakugou had come in a little early for you to close up, so he waiting for you to finish, casually leaning on the counter as he observes the store. okay, well- you’re not exactly sure what he’s doing, since he’s probably memorized the entire layout of your small area of the building by now because of how many times he’s been here.

you’re humming idly to yourself, the tv flicked on to some music ambience channel to full in the quiet air anytime bakugou isn’t striking up a conversation. he’s been silent for a while now.

“what’s a person’s ideal date?”

you nearly drop a vase. obviously, the question surprises you. it should, you think, since this is a pro hero who’s been coming to your flower shop for over a month or two now, supposedly getting flowers for his significant other—even if he does linger around longer than he should and drives you home—and he’s asking you on what someone’s ideal date is? this.. doesn’t make any sense.

“well...” you begin reluctantly, unsure of where this is leading, and even more unsure on how to actually answer. “it depends on the person, bakugou.”

the blonde simply clicks his tongue and his eyes meet yours.

“okay then. what’s your ideal date?”

just when you think he can’t surprise you any further, he does. you’re pretty sure you eyes nearly bug out of their sockets as you set the vase aside so you don’t actually drop it. “huh?”

“you heard me, dumbass,” katsuki scoffs with a roll of his eyes and you want to disappear into the floor. “what’s your ideal date?”

your throat suddenly feels dry. “i’m, uh, not the best person to ask for romantic advice, bakugou,” you warn, trying to be all teasing as you laugh anxiously. you do not want to help him plan out a date—you’d rather throw yourself into the sun.

“‘m serious, brat,” bakugou grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring at you. you can’t read him, usually you can’t, but his eyes are warm. “tell me.”

you continue fiddling with some ribbons as you glance away to contemplate. “well.. a- a picnic date would be nice. with some of my favorite foods, maybe. it’d probably be out in some meadow. just.. a nice, open meadow where you can see flowers for miles.” you sigh dreamily.

it’s quiet again and then you glance back to him, stammering, “but- but that’s just my preference! i dunno if the person you’re seeing would like that ‘n stuff. everyone’s different, y’know?”

suddenly he’s got his confused scowl on his face, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. oh god, did you offend him in some way? say something awful? what if you-

“hah?” bakugou snaps, voice colored in disbelief, “who the hell said i was seeing someone?”

what? now it’s your turn to be utterly confused, and you stare at him with wide eyes. “you’re not- you’re not seeing someone? dating someone?” you inquire, puzzled.

“no, dumbass!” he barks out, “i’m not- where the fuck did you get that idea from?”

you blink once, twice. “you!” you cry out, saying, “when you came in here for the very first time, you asked me to get you flowers for a date!”

bakugou’s eyes widen and then he’s taking steps towards you. “not a date for me, dumbass! my friend asked me to get him flowers for his date!”

you mind spins with the new information but you’re still so confused, still in denial—you shake your head. “but- but.. why else would you come in for flowers every single day?”

“because i wanted to see you!”

oh. the confession has your cheeks heating up. so… the blonde you’ve been harboring a massive crush on is, in fact, not seeing anyone, and is coming in every day to your flower shop to buy your flowers because he wants to see you?

bakugou stares at you, eyes all wide as if he can’t believe what he had just said aloud. his words are echoing in your head and you laugh a little. “you.. aren’t here for the flowers?” you say softly.

his gaze is all warm as he relaxes, and you can see the faint pink tingeing his cheeks. “no,” he confesses in a grumble, “..‘m here for you and your stupid dumbass.”

you laugh again, and he finally reaches you. his fingers twitch and slowly, you take his hands in yours. they feel a little warm, clumsy like he doesn’t know what to do with his fingers before they tighten around yours. “we really are idiots, huh?” when he glares at you softly, you add, “i like you too. just so you know.”

his blush is visible and oh so pretty now, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your words. and then he snorts, “good, ‘cus i’m gonna need some help takin’ care of all the stupid fuckin’ flowers at my apartment. it’s practically a shop now too.”

as he pulls you into a crushing hug, you burst into a fit of giggles.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“you forgot to water this one, you idiot!” katsuki calls from the corner of your shop, grumbling at some of the drooping crotons you brought in recently. “where the fuck did you put the watering can?”

you point to the counter, too occupied with fixing the succulents. “should be somewhere on the floor over there, suki,” you tell him. and as you watch him snatch the watering can and storm back over to the plants in need, you grin to yourself.

“thanks, katsuki,” you hum as you stand back up, “you’re a big help, y’know?”

he scoffs. “yeah, yeah.” as he tilts the watering can to spray the plants, he continues in a hushed voice. “what you would ‘lil fuckers do without me, ah?”

your heart does a flip. a month or so ago, you wouldn’t believe it if someone had told you that the pro hero dynamight would be in your shop taking care of your plants as he talks to them. but you know, you also wouldn’t have believed it if they had told you he’d be your boyfriend.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

and katsuki eventually does take you out on that ideal date once it gets warmer. a dainty picnic lunch with your favorite foods that he made from scratch in his very own kitchen in a heavenly meadow surrounded by flowers all around.

and it’s there, when he kisses you, that bakugou katsuki realizes that he doesn’t hate flowers. especially since he has the most gorgeous flower of them all—you.

Calling up the 80s ☎

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 | 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | even though you can’t afford to break rules, you manage to with your own asset, the nerdy genius that created the zephyr. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | simon feck (knight and day, 2010) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut— handjob, loss of virginity, sub!simon, slight dom!reader, mommy kink 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | WHY IS THERE NO CONTENT FOR OUR NERDY BABY SIMON IM MAD ANYWAY HAVE THIS | follow @cremebruhleewrites to be notified when i post a new story!

You had one objective for the night, only one thing that Roy had told you to do: keep an eye on Simon. Make sure he stays in the hotel room. He could do whatever he wanted, but he needed to stay there. It was similar to how Roy was supposed to watch June; “Just make sure he stays safe,” Roy had told you. 

You stood next to Roy as he explained to Simon the situation, and as he gave the younger man a pin that said Hall & Oates. Wherever Roy had procured that pin in Salzburg, Austria was beyond you, but your boss and trainer often seemed to do impossible things. He had only briefly told you about Simon— how he was the genius who created the Zephyr, how he was just out of high school and smarter than any scientist employed by the government today. 

You had expected a scrawny, lanky kid that had nothing going for him. Instead, you met Simon Feck. Six feet tall, ginger hair hanging at his shoulders, wire glasses perched on a pert nose, with the most pathetic excuse for a mustache and goatee you had ever seen on a man. Simon had been quick to try to rectify some of the information that Roy had given you. “I’m 21,” he told you on the train, over the sound of the hydraulics pumping. “I don’t know why Roy said I was just out of high school. And I’m not as smart as he says. I-I did come up with the battery, that wasn’t a lie, but I’m not Einstein or whatever.”

On the train, you and Simon had gotten along. He had a small iPod stashed in his pocket and, once he was finished with gawking and admiring the train and speaking to the conductor in clipped German, you sat with him and, sharing his earbuds, listened to music with him. He was funny when a song he liked would come on, he’d bob his head and mouth the words, and it made you smile. Then, as always, June’s presence seemed to fuck everything up, and suddenly your own presence made sense. Roy was the muscle, and you secured the asset. 

But the hotel was calm, and there wasn’t a lot to do. Sitting in Simon’s room wasn’t very eventful; he sat on one end, reading and listening to his iPod (Hall & Oates, no doubt), and you sat at the other end, trying to watch television but actually watching him. It was dull, truth be told, and you sighed. You had left a little space between you and Simon, just in case he didn’t like you sitting too close, and he looked up from his book. His cheeks were just a little pink, almost like he had been outside and gotten a little sunburn, and he said, “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you told him. “Don’t worry about me. What’re you listening to?” 

Simon grappled with his book to retrieve his iPod, and he clicked the screen on. “Hall & Oates,” he said simply. 

“I figured as much,” you giggled, reaching out and playing with the pin on his shirt. “What song?”

Simon smiled softly as he looked down at where you were messing with his shirt, and he said, “Do you like Hall & Oates?” 

“Not as much as you do,” you told him, and you let your hand drop off and into your own lap. “But I know the big songs. Maneater, Rich Girl, Out of Touch, you know.” 

“You’re Making My Dreams Come True,” Simon told you. “I-It’s one of my favorites.” 

“That’s a good one,” you said, and you folded your legs up underneath yourself as you got comfortable. “Do you like all 80s music, or just Hall & Oates?” 

“Just Hall & Oates,” Simon chuckled. “Since high school. I’d be in my little lab, working on the Zephyr, listening only to them. It makes me feel safe, y’know? My mom listened to them a lot.” 

“I get that,” you told him. “I’m the same way with Elton John. It’s just comforting to me.” 

Simon nodded, and he pulled out one of his earbuds and offered it to you. Just like on the train, you moved close to him to listen, but something felt weird. It didn’t feel like the train anymore. Maybe because you were alone now, the energy felt different. Your thigh touched his with the proximity, and you watched his hand come down onto your thigh gently, almost as if he didn’t realize what he had done. That was the final straw for you, and you whispered, “Hey, Si?” 

Simon looked at you, silently prompting you to speak, and you pulled the earbud out hastily. You couldn’t. Roy could sleep with June all he wanted because he was Roy and he operated under a different code than you did. You could not do that with Simon. The heat in the bottom of your stomach betrayed you, though, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “I need to go,” you mumbled, but, before you could properly get up to leave, Simon grabbed your hand. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “You were fine a second ago.” 

“Yeah, I was,” you started. You couldn’t tell him that you had to leave because he turned you on. The smell of his soap was enough to trigger it, and you stepped back, away from him. “I-It’s not you, Si, I just, paperwork, y’know? Government entities run on paperwork.” 

Simon watched you with his big eyes, examining you, and he said, “I did something wrong.”

“No!” you told him quickly. “Simon, you did nothing wrong, believe me. Please don’t think you did. This has nothing to do with you.” 

“Is it because I touched your leg?” Simon asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you said quickly. You sighed, your chest heaving with it, and you looked at the door, where you had last seen Roy before he left. “Okay, it kinda was that, but not how you think it is. I… Simon, you’re just really attractive, y’know that?”

He looked surprised to hear you say that, his eyes widening and his eyebrows raising, and he shook his head quickly. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbled, and you sat back down, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Simon, c’mon. Your big green eyes and your smile, you’re just so cute. I kinda… My heart races when I see you.”

“Really?” Simon asked. He looked down at his lap, and, mumbling, he added, “People in high school used to…”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, Simon,” you told him gently. “That sucks. People kinda suck in general. I was teased a lot in high school too.” 

“Most people have their first kiss by 17,” Simon told you, and he pushed up his glasses. He seemed to have a habit of fiddling with his glasses whenever he was nervous. “And here I am, I’m 21, and I doubt it when a girl calls me pretty. It’s just… It sucks so bad, being hurt like that, y’know?”

“I know,” you told him. “I’m sorry, that really does suck a lot. I-I wasn’t teased like that, but… Fuck them. You’re better than they’ll ever be, okay? You’re a bigger man than them.”

“A bigger man,” Simon repeated. “That all means so much, thank you. But I can’t help but feel just so inadequate. You know what I mean? It feels like nobody wants me, and that shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. It hurts really bad.”

You shrugged, squeezing his hand again. “”I think you’re handsome, Simon,” you told him. “I think you’re adorable, actually.”

“You’re just saying that,” Simon said, and you watched a flush come over his cheeks, accentuating the tiny freckles he had on his face.

“I promise I’m not,” you said quickly. “In fact, I’d really like it if I could kiss you… Can I?”

“You…” Simon began, his flush glowing deeper in his cheeks. “I’ve never—”

“I know, baby,” you told him. You gently smoothed his wild hair out of his face, and you watched his bottom lip tremble in anticipation. “That’s why I asked.”

Simon readjusted his weight on the sofa, and he shyly mumbled, “I… I really like when you call me that.” 

“What?” you asked. “Baby?” Simon nodded, and you smiled sweetly at him. You had figured that he was a virgin, but his blush made it all the more obvious that he hadn’t ever felt the touch of a woman. “Aw, you’re cute. Can I kiss you, baby?” 

Simon nodded quickly, his shy nature keeping him quiet and mellow, and you quickly moved closer to him. Your thighs touched again, and his hand landed on your leg once more, and that fire returned to your belly. It was stronger than before, now knowing everything you did about Simon, and suddenly a different fire emerged. You wanted to ruin this poor man. You wanted to help him explore and discover himself. You needed to. You carefully leaned into him and touched his burning cheek, and you gently pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. You heard his beautiful gasp as his breath caught in his throat, and he whimpered, actually whimpered at you. “Please…” he whispered. 

“Please what, baby?” you asked. “Use your words.” 

Simon seemed flustered, and you almost worried that you had taken things one step too far, but he finally sighed, almost lovingly simple and soft. “Please kiss me,” he whimpered. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but oblige his begging, and you finally pressed your mouth to his. He was soft, and he sighed as you kissed him, and it made your heart melt. Your hand on his cheek titled his head a little so you could better kiss him, and Simon made a soft sound as he finally kissed back. It was obvious he didn’t really know what he was doing, but his inexperience was cute. His hands twitched next to his body, and you smiled into the kiss before breaking it. “You can touch me, if you want,” you told him. 

“O-Okay,” Simon said, and he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Umm, actually, can we… Can we stop?”

Your heart sank, and you quickly shifted away from him. “Of course,” you told him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Simon told you. “I-I just…” 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Are you okay?” 

Simon swallowed thickly, and he mumbled, “I-I’m just…” He paused and his blush grew deep, creeping into his ears and neck, and he added, “I-It’ll go away in a minute, I’m sorry.”

“What will go away?” you asked. “Si, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s okay.”

“No, I do!” Simon groaned. “Y-You just can’t make fun of me, alright?” 

“I would never,” you told him, and Simon wordlessly took your hand and settled it on his pants. It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but then you felt him through his jeans. “Oh, Si. Are you hard?” 

“I-I said it’ll go away in a minute,” Simon stammered.

You chewed your lip for a moment as you thought. You definitely wanted to be able to help him, and he seemed like he would be open to the idea. “I could help you,” you offered. “If you’d like that?”

“Help me?” Simon echoed. “Y-You’d want to touch me?”

“Yes, of course,” you told him. “You’ve masturbated and stuff before, right?” Simon nodded, adjusting his glasses again, and you leaned forward and kissed him again. “Have you ever cum?”

“No,” Simon told you. "I could never make myself..."

“Oh, my poor baby,” you said gently, kissing him once more. “I’ll help you cum, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Simon said, choking out his answer through a thick throat. “Yes, please, t-touch me.”

You took his hand and led him from the sofa over the large hotel bed, and you sat down first, kicking off your shoes and taking off your trousers and shirt. You figured he would be greedy for the feel of your skin, and you pulled him close to you and kissed him. You edged a little closer to him, pressing your chest to his, and you took his hands and settled them on your hips. “If you want me to stop, just tell me,” you said, and Simon nodded. “I’m gonna lay back and you’re gonna put your back on my chest, okay?”

His skin was warm against yours as he settled himself between your legs, and you took care to remove his glasses from his thin nose and set them on the table next to the bed. You softly blew on your hands, trying to warm them up for him, and you lightly reached around and touched his chest. Despite your gentle and slow movements, he still jumped, and you shushed him softly. “I know, baby,” you whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

“Don’t stop,” Simon said, his voice a little higher than before. “Please don’t.” 

“I won’t,” you told him. Your fingers itched in his shirt, tugging it up a little high to expose the happy trail of thin hairs on his belly, leading down to where his hard cock strained at his jeans. Carefully, you helped him tug his shirt over his head, and you kissed the side of his face as you discarded his shirt. He was incredibly thin, his chest pale with just the sparsest hair speckling his skin, and you gently smoothed your hand down his chest to his jeans. He sighed heavily, almost like he was comforting himself, and you kissed the side of his head again. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you whispered, and Simon shook his head quickly. 

“I want to,” he said. “I-I’m just nervous.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “I’ll be good to you.” You were quick to undo his jeans, and you snaked your hand inside his pants and down past his boxers to feel the burning skin of his cock, so impossibly hard. You sweetly kissed the side of his face as you withdrew your hand, and you pushed at his pants, trying to move them as far down as you could.

Simon got the message, thankfully, and he shoved his pants down his legs, kicking them off hastily. He seemed eager, and it eased you to know that he did really want this. Your hand lifted to his cheek, and you turned his head to look at you as you sealed your lips together again. Simon moaned softly, deep in his chest, and his hands lifted as he turned slightly to face you better. You expected him to go for your face, just how your hands were, but he quickly pawed at your tits instead. 

“C-Can I?” Simon asked, and you smiled. 

“Yes, baby, you can,” you told him, and Simon turned fully around and settled himself just above your tits, and his fingers worked to push your bra down. You went to help him, but he did it fully by himself, and his mouth attached to your nipple in an instant. You gasped in shock, but you still writhed beneath him when he sucked hard. “Oh my God, Si…Yes, baby, just like that. Do you still want me to touch you?” 

Simon grunted softly, nodding as he sucked at you, and you licked your palm before lowering your hand down to his cock again. This time, you wrapped your hand fully around him and slowly started to stroke him, and Simon’s mouth faltered around your nipple as he moaned.

“Good boy,” you whispered, smoothing his hair out of his face. Each stroke of his cock made Simon moan and buck his hips up into your fist, and you loved seeing the flush in his cheeks draw down onto his chest. “Here, baby, turn around,” you told him, and Simon gave a high whine when you tried to pull him away from your tits. “I know, baby, but I’ll be able to touch you easier if you turn around.” 

You almost didn’t hear what your baby said in response, something muffled against your tit, and you smirked when you finally understood it. “Say that again, baby,” you told him. “Because it sounded like you called me Mommy.” 

“M’sorry,” Simon said quickly. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, baby, don’t worry,” you told him quickly. “I liked it. Call me that again.” 

Simon nodded quickly, and you swiped your thumb across the sensitive head of his cock to elicit a sound from him. Thankfully, he did as you wanted, and his words came in a mumble as he keened back against you: “Mommy, please…” 

“I will, sweet boy,” you told him, kissing his cheek. “Stop squirming, baby, let Mommy touch you all nice.” Your hand quickened on his cock, moving just a little faster, and Simon’s head fell back onto your shoulder as he moaned again. His hands were twitching by his sides, obviously wanting to touch you somehow, and your free hand reached down to take his. Your poor boy already looked close to cumming, what with the way that his hips bucked up to meet your hand with every stroke you gave him, and you squeezed his hand. “Are you getting close, baby?” 

“Yes,” Simon whined. “A-Are you gonna—”

“Just warn me before you cum, baby,” you told him, soothing whatever anxiety he had, and Simon nodded quickly. “You’re being so good for Mommy, such a good boy…” 

“This,” Simon started, and he moaned as your thumb smoothed over the head of his cock again. “Th-This isn’t how I thought this night would go.” 

“Me too, honey,” you told him. “But I like the way it’s turning out, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Simon laughed, and you let go of his hand to turn his face so that you could kiss him. His mouth was warm, already used to the feel of yours, and, as he kissed you, you could feel his cock twitch in your hand. “Mommy,” he mumbled. “I-I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“That’s it,” you told him. “Turn around, baby, I’ll let you suck my tits while you cum.” 

“Can I…” Simon began as he hastily turned back around to face you, his eyes zeroing in on your tits. “Can I cum on them?” 

You smiled at his boldness to even ask, and you reached behind yourself to undo your bra, and you tossed it across the room. “Be my guest, baby,” you told him, and you dragged him down into a kiss. He was open for you, your tongue pushing into his mouth in an instant, and he moaned into you as his own hand started on himself. 

“I’ve done this plenty,” Simon chuckled as he broke the kiss, and you giggled at him. “Never thought I’d do it with a pretty girl, especially one who saved my life earlier.” 

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” you told him, and Simon smiled as one of his ginger waves fell into his eyes. “Your hair just won’t stay back, will it? Got a mind of its own.”

“You should see it in the morning,” Simon told you. “It’s all flat and it’s everywhere, it’s not good.”

“Maybe I will,” you said, and Simon’s eyes all but sparkled as he took in your words. 

“Y-You’ll stay?” he asked, and you nodded. He huffed out a pant as he neared his finish, and he said, “Cool. I’d like that.” 

“Good,” you said. “You gonna cum, baby?”

“Yeah,” Simon nodded. “And you promise you’re okay with…?”

“Yes, baby,” you told him, and you dragged him down into another kiss. “Please, Simon, I want it.” 

“A-And what would that be?” Simon asked, and you laughed. 

“Trying to be a little dominant,” you mused, and the blush in Simon’s cheeks grew deeper as he laughed with you. “Alright, we can try that.”

“Use your words,” Simon said, more of a caricature of dominance than actuality. “What do you want?”

The way that the same words had previously come out of your mouth made you laugh, and Simon smiled. “Cum on my tits, Simon. Please, baby, that’s all I want.”

“Good,” Simon mumbled, and his fist worked faster, hurrying to cum. “I-I’m… Fuck.” 

“Oh, you’re cursing now?” you laughed. “What happened to my sweet boy?” 

“Call me that again,” Simon said, his voice high with a whine, and you watched his legs and thighs jerk as he grew closer and closer. 

“My boy,” you told him. “Are you my boy, baby?” 

“Wanna be your boy,” Simon mumbled. “Wanna be your boy so bad.”

“You can be my boy,” you said. “If Roy gets to be with June, we can be together.” Fuck your code, you decided. If Roy could do it and not receive repercussions, then you could too.

“Yeah,” Simon whispered. “Oh, fuck, Mommy…” With one more tug on his cock, Simon’s mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut as he came. His cum spurted out in thick ribbons, landing on your chest, and the flush in his cheeks grew deeper still as he moaned. His breathing hitched in his chest as he gave you his release, and he finally fell down on top of you, exhausted and spent. You couldn’t help but smile in his mess of hair, and you kissed his temple. 

“Good boy,” you told him. “You’re my best boy, Si.” 

“Thank you, Mommy.” 

You were thankful that you and Simon were quick to shower and redress because, not even an hour later, Roy came into the room unannounced. Simon had fallen asleep in bed after his shower, wearing just his boxers and little white wife pleaser, and you had settled yourself back on the sofa, where everything started. 

“Anything eventful happen while I was gone?” Roy asked.

You shrugged, looking from the television to where Simon slept. “Nothing,” you told him. 

“What did you do?” Roy asked, sitting next to you. 

“Oh, you know,” you started, and laughed. “We fucked.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you’re making fun of me, I see it,” he said. 

Then, from across the room, you heard the high whine of your best boy, and your body froze as he spoke: “Come back to bed, Mommy, m’cold.” 

I am Jewish. I am an anti-Zionist. I am always and forever pro-Palestine.

My grandmother was born in Palestine before Israel existed. My grandmother, who died less than a decade ago (in her 70s) was already older than the settler colonial state of Israel. Judaism exists without Zionism. Zionism goes against the Jewish religion. Zionism is white supremacy.

From the river to the sea Palestine WILL BE FREE

FOR YOUR 4K CELEBRATION!!

okay i’ll give you two options and you can choose one of them:

1. friends to lovers with my boy klitz

2. second chance with percy dolarhyde

i wuv u and im so proud of you🥰

uwu thank u sissy

yknow i HAD to indulge you and do your boy

Thank God Timothy Klitz had a driver's license.

The party sucked, if you were being honest, and that was before your crush rejected you. The humiliation of it, putting yourself out there only to be let down, had brought tears to your eyes, and you called the only person you could think to pick you up. "Tim?" you had said as he answered the phone; you hated using his last name like Eli and Matthew did, especially considering that he was as close to a brother as you'd ever have, and, to your knowledge, you were the only person who used his first name. "Can you come pick me up?"

The car was eerily silent as Tim drove you home, and you fiddled with the radio for a moment before slumping back in your seat and sighing. "Did something happen?" Tim asked. "You look sad."

You shrugged. "It's stupid," you said. "There was this game of spin the bottle, and it landed on Peter, and he laughed."

Tim was your best friend; he knew your infatuation with Peter. "Peter's a huge dick," Tim told you. "He doesn't deserve you."

"It just..." you sighed, and your bottom lip wobbled as you tried not to burst into tears. "It made me feel like nobody wants me, y'know? It hurts."

Tim sighed, and he reached over and took your hand in his. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "If you had spun that bottle and it landed on me, I wouldn't have laughed."

"Yeah, because you're not a dick," you laughed softly.

"I guess I'm not," Tim chuckled. "After all, it is one in the morning and I came and picked you up from a party. That's not very dick-ish."

"It's not," you agreed. You looked down at your hands, intertwined in your lap, his so much bigger than yours, and you mumbled, "Your hand is so big."

"Yours is small," Tim said. A beat passed, and then he let go of your hand, settling his back on the steering wheel, and you watched him, not fully understanding why you hated it.

"Why'd you let go?" you asked.

"Oh," Tim mumbled. "I thought you didn't like it."

"No," you said. "I did. I... Tim, I—"

"I really like you," Tim said quickly, reaching back and taking your hand again. "And I hate seeing you upset over some asshole, okay? You can hate me for it, but I just... I don't know. I have all these feelings and I don't know what to do with them. But I really like you."

"I like you too," you whispered. "I like you a lot."

Even in the dim light, you could see a red flush overtake Tim's face. "Good," he said. "Cool. That's, um, that's cool. Do you... Do you have a date to prom? M-Maybe do you wanna go with, um, with me?"

You smiled. "I'd love to go to prom with you, Tim."