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hollybell51 · 2 years

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 month

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nineteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary Entry: October 3rd

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

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

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

Yes indeed you do.

October 4th continued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary Entry: October 4th

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

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

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

Are you just being petty?

Date: October 10th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know, you could just order th-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”You know him?” You asked awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diary Entry: October 11th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------------------------

Diary Entry: cont.

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

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

Date: October 12th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 12th 5:54pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 12th 8:56pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TWENTY

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