#slasher ghost

Charmed Slasher Ghost who, for one reason or another, has a nose like a bloodhound. Can smell the change in your hormones in the days leading up to your period. Can smell your blood. And oh, fuck, does he want more of it. More. More. More. More. More.

Will throw out or hide your medications, break your heating pads, get rid of the caps for your hot water bottle, leaving you with nothing. He listens to you whine and complain for a while before, casually:

"You know, I've heard an orgasm can help with that."

While a part of him wants nothing more than to take you right there, he waits. He wants you to come to him. Wants to see you all sad and pathetic. Pupils blown, cheeks burning, lips parted with laboured breaths, pouting, eyes watering, voice trembling with shame and desperation as you ask him to please please please help.

He's not going to make it that easy for you though.

"Don't you have toys sweet thing? Don't you have fingers?"

Simon's been watching though. He knows. Knows that you can't cum, not on your own. Knows your fingers can't reach those places that make you see stars and your toys just can't give you that final push over the edge.

He wants to hear you say it though. Wants you to tell him that you need him. Wants you to beg.

And you do.

It doesn't take long. In fact, it happens so quickly you almost get whiplash. In one moment, you're in the kitchen pleading with Simon, tears in your eyes.

The next, well... There are still tears in your eyes. Just for a different reason.

Blood soaked panties torn off, Simon wastes no time pushing two thick fingers inside. It's tight. It's warm. It's wet. When he pulls his fingers back, they're coated in red.

You whine at the loss and he doesn't disappoint, touching you in ways you've never been touched before. Fingers curling inside you, abusing this spongy spot that has your back arching, thumb rubbing against your clit so harsh it's almost cruel.

Your head is thrown back, eyes shut, slack jawed. You can't remember the last time you felt this good.

"How's that sweetheart? That feel good?" he croons, his eyes almost overtaken by the black of your pupils.

He leans in to your inner thighs, wet with arousal, spit and blood. His tongue lolls out.

Your eyes go wide. You reach down to grab at his hair, trying to pull him away. "Wait, I—"

He growls. Literally growls, his eyes dark.

"Thought you wanted help... You didn't expect me to do this for nothing, did you?" He asks lowly. His free hand goes from grabbing at your hips and massaging the fat of your ass, to holding your wrists in a vice like grip.

He lowers himself again, still working his fingers. His breath is hot and warm against sensitive skin. His eyes flutter. He lets out something between a sigh and a moan, inhaling the smell of your blood.

Is he...?

He is.

You realise, eyes widening, jaw going slack, from both shock and the way he's curling his fingers inside you, abusing your sensitive spots. He's actually drooling.

He groans, then dives in, flattening his tongue against your thigh and licking a long stripe, gathering your blood and arousal on his tongue. His eyelashes flutter. His eyes roll back. His hips buck against empty air.

"So fucking good..." He grumbles as he slips a third finger in, licking and biting at the meat of your thighs. "Taste so fucking good."

He works you to not one but three orgasms. Once on his fingers, once on his tongue and once on his cock. Until you're fucked out and sated, boneless.

He brings his fingers down, gathers up a heaping portion of his cum and your blood from between your legs, then brings his fingers to your lips.

"Open wide, sweetheart."

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You shivered as you stepped into the night air. Looking around there wasn't a sight of anyone and the fire was just about out. You shuffle over to the firepit and gently place a few logs in. pulling out your phone you check for any messages but there's nothing, and you have no signal. 

Something felt wrong. 

You take a deep breath and choose to go down the right bath path. There's only two ways out so it was likely someone had to be down either of them. 

Using your phone as a light you follow the windy path and look for any sign of somewhere your friends could have gone down. “Jess? Molly, anyone out there?” you try to be loud but it was starting to get more cold and creepy the farther you got and you were starting to get really scared. “C’mon guys it's getting late.” you try again, a bit louder this time. 

A noise to your left startles you. 

“Y/N?” a muffled voice says your name. 

You head in the direction of the voice. “Andrew, Is that you?”

“Y/N, dont-” Andrew starts to say.

“Don’t? Are you-”

“RUN!” His voice is raspy and breathless.

You stop in your tracks and freeze. There was no more sound from Andrew, it was silent again. You didn't want to over react, what if this was just a prank? You were always the more gullible one in the group, you were teased more often than not. “Are you messing with me andrew? You ask and take a few cautious steps forward. You don't make it far however, just at the edge of your phone's light you could see Andrew. He was laying on his stomach, eyes wide and looking right at you. He was covered in blood, it looked like it was coming from his back the most. You took a step closer, your own breathing becoming uneven. He was dead, you knew it. 

What you hadn’t noticed was someone else in the dark with you, circling you and getting closer without you even noticing. Simon stopped you right when you turned to flee. You ran right into his chest with a soft thud. You stumbled back a little and looked up at the man in horror and recognition. Now in a different mask that covered almost all of his face with a horrifying skull on it. 

You remembered him. How sweet he thought.

“You… I don't understand.” you take a step back and then another. He follows your movements and steps forward, but with much bigger strides than your own. You turn and start sprinting and to your utter surprise were not caught yet. You figured someone his size would snatch you up in a second but you had to try anyway, right? But he hasn’t, you didn't even hear him running behind you. You chanced a glance back and saw nothing nor did you hear anything. Really weird you thought. 

It took awhile but you managed to find the RV again after getting lost not taking the same way back. Slowly and quietly you snuck around it to the door. It was still closed with the lights still on and the fire was once again dimming. You didn't waste your time on it now, instead you slowly crept onto the RV. It didn't look like anyone had been in there. Everything seemed as it was before.

“HELP” 

You make for the door but before you can reach it Jessica comes flying in. 

“Jess, oh god what happened?” you rush to help and lock the door behind her before helping her to the little bench and table. 

“Some masked freak, he,” he sucked in a breath and clutched at her side. Looking down you can see her clothes were stained with blood. “He fuckin stabbed us.” she finished. 

You shake your head in disbelief, this can't be happening. “You're hurt right? Maybe we should take a look at that before we do anything.” you say, trying to think rationally and stay as calm as you could. 

“Fucking bastared, Andrew better be fine.” Jessica curses. 

You look at her but can’t bring yourself to say it. She noticed something in your features and knew something was wrong however. 

“No… he’s fine isn't he?” she asks, wanting anything but to hear the truth that was written all over your face. You wanted to lie but you knew it would do no good too. You slowly shake your head and avert your eyes, unable to bear the sight of your friends' lives falling apart all at once. “Damnit! What the fuck is going on, who is that guy?” she's shaking and more blood is soaking her clothes. 

“Okay, let's get this looked at.” you instruct her to move her arms, not wanting to waste any more time.

A bang on the side of the RV startles the both of you. 

“What the fuck?” Jessica shouts in a whisper.

“Sshh.” you shush her quietly. 

Another bang near the back. 

“He’s fucking with us.” Jess whispers, you shush her again. 

You sit and listen but there's nothing. After another moment you hear someone try and open the door but the lock stops them. You let out a sigh of relief too soon because the sound of the door being unlocked makes your heart almost stop right there. The keys were in the RV when you left, so that means he managed to get here before you did and swipe them. You both stay still as the massive masked man fills up the space of the entrance. 

“Fuck, i cant die Y/N im sorry!” Jessica yells before pushing you up and straight back into the killer. She turned  and ran for the back of the RV and behind the bed where there was a small window just big and long enough for someone to squeeze out of. 

You stumbled right into his arms and the hold he has on you gives you no wiggle room to get away. You look up at him with horror in your eyes as tears begin to form at the corners. “Please don't.” Were the only words you could manage to rush out. You were in disbelief, you were in the arms of a killer and your best friend just threw right at him. The man doesn’t say anything. Instead he crouches enough to lift you up by the legs and fling you over his shoulder, causing you to let out a very audible squeak. 

You were tossed onto the bed next to your friend who was still struggling with the window, only getting it about halfway open before she was being dragged from right beside you with a scream. She reached out for you but it was too late, she was already hitting the floor before you could get there. You almost go after her, but then the image of her pushing you into harm's way plays and you freeze. You watch as he drags her away and lifts her with a hand on her neck. The skull mask makes the whole scene look even more terrifying to witness as he pulls a knife from his vest out and brings it to her face. She tries to scream and reach out to you but you can't seem to make yourself move. 

When you looked up to the masked man again he was looking back at you, watching your reaction. 

“Pl-ease He-” Jessica tried to say but the grip on her neck was tightened. 

In the blink of an eye the man had plunged the knife right into the side of Jessica's head. You can't hold back the screech you make when it happens, or your reaction to crawl as far back onto the bed as possible. You shook and watched as he tossed her body out the door before turning to face you. He took up so much space in the RV even with being across the thing.

Simon can't help but think about how cute you looked. Dirt from the woods and your friend's blood all over your sweater, shaking like a leaf. You were perfect and everything he could have asked for. He wanted you, the thought taking up a now permanent spot in his mind. He needed to bring you home, no more leaving what he wanted behind. 

Slowly he took those long strides to where you sat still in fear. His eyes were trained on yours the whole time until he was towering over you as you cowered back, as far away from him as you could be. “Please dont… dont hurt me.” you plead, tears now staining your cheeks. This was it, it was all too much and you couldn't run anymore. The killer reaches for your ankle and pulls you back down the bed towards himself. He yanks your boots off and now what was your once white socks are now covered in bright red. 

Simon can't help the way his cock switches at the sight of your big glossy eyes staring up at him in horror. He noticed how you pulled at your skirt to make sure you stayed covered after he dragged you. Your cardigan was falling off your shoulders, you were too scared to move to even fix the garment. Simon reached down and wrapped his large gloved hand around your throat. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to start choking you. Once again the monster of a man surprised you and no harm ever came. Instead he seemed content to just rest his hand there enough to move you a little better just so he could see your face. You slowly blinked your eyes open and shuddered a little when your eyes met his. They didn't look like the eyes of a psychopathic killer, they looked calm and almost… warm. You shake the thought out of your head. No, he was a killer, nothing warm about that. 

Something in Simon told him he needed this, needed to be close to you, to touch you. His cock was getting hard just looking at your adorably frightened face. Slowly his hand starts to slide to your chest, dirting the exposed flesh of your collar bone. You stiffen even more as his hand makes it to your breasts, staining the light fabric of your shirt. He smirks at how much you're shaking, so scared but letting him touch you like this. If he keeps going he doesn't know if he’ll be able to leave you, he's tired of leaving what he wants behind.

Your breathing was getting even more unsteady, you were starting to panic. 

In a solid and precise motion Simon had picked you up, taken your spot on the bed and placed you straddling on his lap with your face buried in his chest. One arm held you close by wrapping around your lower back and the other rubbed soothingly at your upper back. You were effectively trapped against him. 

You stay as still as possible, even though with how much you were shaking made it actually impossible. Why was he holding you like he was comforting you? Was this some kind of trick so when he did kill you it was more fun? 

“Not gonna hurt ya.” The masked man tells you. His voice is deep and a little raspy with an accent you weren't expecting”

You peaked up at him with a little curiosity. “Why… why not? I mean... My friends.” you try and say but finding the words is becoming difficult. 

Simon looked down at you, his eyes void of emotion. “There was no reason for their lives to be spared. Why, ya feelin left out love? Wanna join those friends of yers?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone. 

You shake your head as more tears slip down your cheeks. “No, please, I don't want to die.” you tell him with a soft sob. You grip onto the front of his vest.

Simon chuckles, It's unnerving and sends a chill up your spine. “Didn’t think so. No, I think I gotta take ya with me.” 

Your eyes widen even more. “What…” Your voice is hardly a whisper. 

You feel his hand run up the back of your neck and his fingers tangled in the hair at the base, forcing you to stay in place with a firm grip. “I keep havin ta leave sweet little things like ya behind. Think the universe was giving me a sign when ya stepped off that camper.” He says, not making any sense to you at all. 

“I don't understand, why take me? I wouldn't be of any use, right?” You squeak out.

“Oh but ya would be.” He confirms. His other hand slipped under your ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. Just enough to have you letting out a shaky breath. “Be good and no escaping or trying to kill me and you’ll even be treated very well.” to add a little emphasis he pulls you in closer by the hand on your ass and rolls his hips up a little. You can feel his bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. 

You shutter a little but keep any sound from escaping you. Your brain tries to make sense of everything going on but with his hand continuing to message and squeeze your ass you find it difficult. You were scared but the way he was embracing you was almost comforting, even his scent aside from the dirt and blood wasn't bad. He smelt clean and natural and being in the woods and near the fire gave him an alluring scent. 

His other hand let go of your neck and reached behind him. You see a gun being pulled from  some holster and pointed behind you. You flinch and cling closer to the killer on instinct and in return he wraps his free arm back around you to keep you secured to him. 

“Y/N? Are you really sitting on that fuckers dick?” You turn to see Zac practically crawling inside. 

You try to move, to go to him and defend yourself but the hold on your waist is too strong. You shook your head and looked panicked between the two men. “No! That's not what's going on!” you start to tell him.

Zac coughed up some blood. “You know Molly's dead right? And I guess you saw Jess huh?” he seethed. You watched as he pulled himself to the driver's seat and reached for the side door.

“Zac, I didn't do anything, I swear.” you tried to reason with him as you struggled against the masked killer.

“Shut up! You're lying, look at you!” he shouts as he struggles to find something. When he did however it was useless. As soon as he pulled back and Simon saw a handgun he shot Zac right in the forehead. 

You couldn't help it, as soon as the gun went off you were clinging to the man holding you hostage once again. This time you buried your face into him as much as you could and your hold on his vest was like steel. 

You shook and cried against his chest. He tried to be soothing, cooing and patting your head. “Alright little one, gotta calm down and get yer things.” He told you after a few minutes. He figured he could wait to tear those clothes off of you for a bit longer. He may be a killer but he's not an animal, not when you were just what he's been needing. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and a little pout. “Where are you taking me?” You ask, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“Home Y/N, you’ll be comfortable, just be good yeah? Now get yer stuff.” He says and lifts you to your feet to stand in front of him. Even when he is just sitting he’s tall you notice. You don't move, not sure exactly what you're doing or how to react. Should you run, or try and fight back? Would it even matter, he was so much stronger than you and clearly knew what he was doing out here. “C’mon love, I'm trying to be nice. Grab whatever ya don't want left behind and put yer boots back on.” He instructs with a pointed gesture of his head. 

You nod slowly and reach for your boots. Once they are on and adjusted you turn around to find your duffel bag. Once you do you come back to the bed and reach around the man for the book you had been reading earlier and slide it back in your bag. “Okay.” you say. Having everything you came with now packed back up for wherever this man’s home was. 

He stands up and takes your bag from your shoulder. He reaches into your pocket and takes your phone out and tosses it into the pool of Zac's blood. “Alright, let's start walking.” he says and guides you out of the RV. You avoid looking at Zac and Jessica as you pass by their dead bodies. It was going to be at least a few days before anyone would probably even notice their bodies. 

“It's about a five mile walk, watch yer step and stay close, got it?” he informs you. 

“Okay.” you say softly. You looked into the dark woods and shuddered. What was going to happen to you? And then your dark and cold walk began with enough time for you to think about every horrible thing that could happen.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

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How some other monster hasn’t lured you in and snapped their jaws closed around your throat is mystery. Good luck, maybe. Or there is a higher power out there after all, and it’s solely devoted to keeping you bouncing along, too friendly for your own good.

Even the death of all your friends hasn’t stripped that gracious way from you. All the cops on the case like you - so forthcoming and cooperative. The more chivalrous of them endeared by the brave face you put on.

Simon wants to carve their faces off when they smile at you.

His consolation is that you’re never more than courteous. You come back to your little flat and collapse on the couch - sometimes sleep there ‘til morning. He’s started pulling blankets over you before it gets too cold.

Your bed is too big for you. All that extra space taunts him, a perfect spot for him to shore up against your back. He could curl his arm around your waist, tuck you into his chest. Slide your panties down your plush thighs…

Too soon for that though. You still stir a bit when he brushes his fingers over your cheek. Have started leaning into it in your sleep, desperate for a kind touch when the world is suddenly so scary.

His favorite nights are the nightmares though. When you wake up gasping and shaking, wiping at watery eyes. When you gasp and shudder like that, it’s easy to imagine you making those noises for a different reason.

It’s those times that all the little inconsistencies start to nag at you. A water cup emptier than you left it. Your hairbrush in the drawer. A blanket on the back of the couch instead of the arm. Things you murmur to yourself is just your memory being off, that you’re being paranoid.

He loves the sound of you singing to yourself when the apartment gets too quiet. Chattering to the air when you’re trying to keep yourself on track with chores.

Your neighbor does too. A single guy, handsome but knows it. Not your type, but he’s the sort to think he’s everyone’s type. He mentions that he hears you singing sometimes, that you have a nice voice. You look utterly mortified; Simon’s teeth grind.

And the little asshole won’t stop chatting with you. Your schedules line up just so that he’s usually leaving for the gym as you’re coming home - giving him excuses to hold you up, try to entice you into feelings Simon has no intention of letting you develop.

Well, moving season is coming. You’re not planning to leave, but Simon’s looking for a new place. The one next to yours is about to open up.

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Simon offers you a smile that seems to set you at ease. No mask, no eyeblack.

“S’alright,” he assures. “Better now than with boxes.”

You fall for it. Of course you do, his precious little prey. Doesn’t stand a chance against a blooded predator like him.

“Are you moving in?” you ask.

“Yeah, just down there.” He gestures over his shoulder with a thumb. Relishes in how you have to lean around him to see where he’s pointing. The door next to your flat ajar.

“Oh, you’re right next to me!” you observe. “Welcome to the building!”

He tilts his head, knows how it looks when his hair sweeps across his forehead. “Thank you. Nice meeting at least one neighbor.”

You hum, lips curved up. “Well, you say that now. The last guy that lived there said he could hear me sometimes, so if I get loud please give me a knock.”

He chuckles, lets his voice drop just a bit. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

You arch your brows playfully. “Famous last words.”

That seems like the natural ending point of the conversation. He knows it is. But this is the first time he’s had your attention all on him since that night in the abandoned hospital.

“What about the other neighbors?” he asks. “Any rowdy couples or newborns I should be worried about?”

He already knows the answer. Has already marked each and everyone person on your floor as potential collateral if they interfere too much. But you tilt your head, thinking.

“Not that I know of…” you shrug, “though I’m pretty introverted. I don’t, um, see anyone much.”

You weren’t always, you poor thing. Trauma does awful things to one’s psyche.

“Anyway!” you chirp. “Do you need any help moving things in?”

Oh, oh, oh. You precious little lamb. He’s going to eat you whole if you step a single foot into his den.

“Thank you, luv, but I’m almost finished. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

You flush so brightly at the endearment, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. His hands itch to pull your chin up, force you to meet his gaze as he-

“Well, lemme know if you need anything! I always forget something important when I move,” you say. “I’m the one on the left.”

“Will do. What was your name?”

You introduce yourself, slipping your delicate little hand into his, so much bigger and rougher. You bite your lip when you notice.

“Call me Riley,” he tells you, caressing his thumb over yours.

Later that night, you bring him a fresh batch of brownies, babbling, “I hope you don’t have any allergies! I mean, there aren’t any nuts, but I know gluten sensitivity is a bitch and people can be really, really lactose intolerant…”

“They’re perfect, luv. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.”

Your smile is so bright he feels a bit blinded.

“Of course! Happy to have you, Riley!”

Oh, you’ll be have him… eventually.

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