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Can You Shut Up?

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That was the time you had been rudely awoken by your security alarm going off downstairs. Normally, just just assume it was the neighbor's dog, or a passing deer, like it usually was, but this time, you heard your backdoor open.


Slowly, you got up, as quiet as you could have been. You reached for your baseball bat that you kept behind your door. Carefully, you crept downstairs, watching and waiting for anything, a noise, a movement.


Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow. It's something familiar, something comfortable, for a reason you can't quite place.


You crept behind the couch, watching the intruder. They were sitting on your counter, fiddling with a shining blade. You took a deep breath.


Okay, it's one of those situations.


Once they seemingly got bored, they slipped off the counter and looked around.


With their back turned to you, you slipped out from your hiding place. Carefully, you walked behind them, raised the bat high, and brought it down upon their head as hard as you could.


Apparently it was pretty hard, because they fell to a lifeless slump on the ground.


With them out, you knelt beside them and tore the mask off their face, to reveal....


No one you knew. Handsome though, without a doubt.


You took their knife, tucking safely in your back pocket until you found a better hiding spot. Without a second thought, you quickly went to grab the handcuffs you had left over from Halloween.


With the intruder knocked out and apprehended, you felt a little safer.


But not safe enough, you pulled your phone out and scrolled through countless missed calls. With a shrug, you dialed 911.


"Oh, so you'll make calls, but won't take them."


With a raised brow, you looked down at the cuffed....burglar? Murderer? Who knew, certainly not you.


"Excuse me?"


"You know exactly what I mean."


"You're the one who's been blowing up my phone? Well, sorry pal, but I don't take calls from anyone but my mommy and my daddy." You said, almost sarcastically. You were handling this situation better than you expected.


"What the hell did you hit me with?" His asked, reaching up to touch his head, only to find his hands cuffed.


"Baseball bat. I'll have you know I was the best on my team." You said, leaning back. That was a lie, honestly. The baseball bat was your dad's, he didn't want you living alone without a weapon.


"And you handcuffed me."




He didn't seem to expect that. Actually, he didn't expect any of this. He had seen you at your workplace and was instantly interested.


Simple interest turned to a small obsession, and that obsession grew wild and uncontrollable. So today, he followed you home to end this whole shitshow.


Now he was staring up at you, handcuffed and more or less useless.


He....kind of liked it, but he wasn't about to admit that.


"So, what are you, some kind of telephone killer?"


"Telephone? That's so....90s."


You scoffed. "Sorry. Smartphone killer?"


"Hey, I don't like your tone." He told you.


"Good. The fuck are you doing, trying to kill me?"


"I dunno, for the funsies?"


"I'm serious, you creep."


He held his hand over his chest, where his heart would be. If he had one, that is.


"Creep? Why, that hurts, (y/n)."


"You're gonna hurt if you keep running that pretty little mouth of you, boy." You said.


He grinned like the crescent moon. 


"You think I'm pretty?"


"Pretty fucking annoying."


"Shucks, I'm blushing here." He cooed.


You groaned, leaning back until you hit the couch. "Shut up, dude."


"Sorry, no can do, babe. I'm always on."


"Do you always chat up your victims? Oh wait. I'm sure you do, phone guy."


He made a face. "Don't call me that."


You got up, only to kneel right in front of him.


"What would you prefer I call you? Hm? Babe? Honey?"


"Ghostface, thanks."


You laughed in his face. "Ghostface! What kind of fucking name is that?!" You howled.


He glared at you, teeth ground tight and bared, as if he was about to pounce.


"You're fucking with me, right? Ghostface?"


"Shut up."


You smirked, crossing your arms.


"Or what? You don't have shit. You're in my house, weaponless, and handcuffed. What are you gonna do?"


This is real life, right? You started to ask yourself that when this guy, Ghostface, leaned forward and kissed you as hard as he could.


Maybe he expected you to back away.


But instead, you reached up to grab a fistful of soft, brown hair, bringing him closer.


It wasn't what he had imagined, but, he wasn't about to complain.


Before anything could get any further, there was a knock at your door. With a huff, you got up, dragging yourself to the door.


Your sweet, little old man neighbor told you your backdoor was open and he was concerned someone broke in.


With a resaurring smile, you told him everything was okay, you had been out there to water some new flowers.


Not.....exactly a lie, seeing as you did have new flowers. Probably trampled to death by Ghostface, that dick.


You shut the door, and walked past the cuffed man on the floor. You locked the back door before making your way back.


"So baby, got the keys for these?" He asked, shaking his wrists.


"Keys? Nah. I lost those years ago." You said with a smirk. "Guess you're stuck here, huh baby?" You mocked, watching his expression change.


"Oh, fuck you.." He said, words dying in his throat as you grabbed his collar to pull him into another kiss.