she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let
and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment
and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.
and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment
and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?
to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.
and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.
you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.
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Fast foodies know the deal
Ghost x reader
(not proof read, this is just fluff straight from the source
Warnings: none, ovulation mention maybe? Its brought up a single time.)
The craving hits around 3 in the morning, it's ovulation week so the idea of not getting chicken nuggets from the drive through makes you want to cry.
You turn towards the sleeping lug beside you. He's on his back, breaths deep and even. Still as a grave but at your movement he takes the arm you had been using as a pillow to drag you further into his side.
Your Simon, took you forever just to get the man to admit he did more than tolerate you. even longer to admit he cared for you. It took you almost using his toothbrush to realize that the man might actually (gasp) like you. That one you didn't push, figured he'd come to terms with it on his own.
As you look at how peaceful he seems you try to fight the urge, you really do, but as you prop yourself up on your elbows and move closer to Simon's ear you resign to begging his forgiveness later.
"Simon, my baby? You sleeping?"
You wouldn't have known he was a awake had it not been for the lone eye opening to check on you
"Was, love. I was. Whats wrong, bad dream? Y' Can turn on the telly to that duck cartoon or the robots - won't bother me none." He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back, he's being so sweet you really do start to feel bad.
"I want chicken nuggets."
Silence.
Both eyes are open now.
The silence continues.
You smile sheepishly.
Wordlessly simon extracts his arm and turns so his back is to you.
"Nnooooooo! Simon pleeeaase. Pretty please? I want chicken nuggets so bad!"
"Go ahead. keys are on the rack, tanks full."
"Nooo you have to take me! come on baby please, for me?"
"My love. Sunshine. Light of my life. If you're hungry i made a perfecly good roast last night. Heat that up and let a man rest."
"I dont want a perfectly good roast! I want chicken nuggets. And a burger. And fries - oh maybe a shake?" You lean over him, hair purposely hung over into his face. He turns quickly and you're nose to nose
"So youre gonna have me get up at 3 fucking a.m. to get you a greasey, artey clogging, cholesterol raising gastrointestinal disaster of a meal - when we have a perfectly good home made dinner in the fridge."
"....please?"
Silence.
A deep suffering sigh.
An ecstatic squee
"Just get your fuckin shoes on"
------
You lean back over into the passenger seat, simon grumpy faced as you insisted that you should be the one to order.
You pat your thighs in glee as he pulls up to the window, gives you a dirty look , and hands the cashier his card.
The second window delivers your meal and drink quickly, you dig in like a starved animal. You're mid chew when he gives a grunt. A snooty sounding eh hem.
You grin and giggle, slowly airplaning him a nugget.
"Give me the chicken or i'll take the whole box"
You squeak and shove it to his lips quickly. His jaws snap around the nugget and it's gone within a single bite - you retract your fingers, still intact but wet with spit.
You give an 'eeeech' and look for somewhere to wipe your hand.
"Any of this ends up in or on my interior and it'll be your arse."
You roll your eyes and reach in the bag for a napkin, knocking the fries over in the process.
Silence.
The car drifts slowly to the left and is parked along the side of the road.
Not a word spoken.
You try to shove as many back into the carton as possible.
He stares at you.
You smile sweetly at him before leaning over the center console and kissing him. You meet his lips, they're stretched into a dangerous grin.
"Love" kiss "did you" kiss "spill salt" kiss "in my truck?"
You might not know a lot, but you know that voice means you're in trouble, which means it's distraction time.
You continue your sweet onslaught of kisses.
"Thank you for taking me baby, I love you so much. ", another smooch
is delivered.
"Youre my person, my favorite guy, love of my life."
He bites at your lip and you barely manage to slip it from his teeth
"Wanna spend the rest of my life with you, grow old with you"
He grips the back of your head and maneuvers your ear to his mouth, in a deep rumble he asks
"Are there fries on my floor, love?"
The dangerous smile still present.
"No of course not baby! i cleaned those up."
"So my truck is fry free?"
"Well - no didn't say that. there's a, a few under the seat"
He's grappling you into his lap now, the man looks a hint deranged.
"And why, my love, are you telling me about them instead getting them?"
he presses.
"'Cause I - hehe - I can't reach!" You giggle out as his hands slink towards your sides.
He pokes and prods at you, growling not unlike a bear while you squeal and squeak out little laughs.
"Gets a man up at ass o'clock-"
"Oh please, you get up early anyway!"
"makes him drive to get congealed grease-"
"you had a nugget too!"
"Then trashes his truck."
"Oh please it's like a handful of fries, I'll get them, i'll get them!"
He frees you with a huff and you dive back over to your side of the car. You pop open your door and hop outside to get a better angle at the underside of the seat. He gets impatient as you fish around for the last few fries, giving a little hurrah as the last one is snatched.
Clambering back into the truck you grin at him, happy as can be. He hums a short laugh, and you're off to home again.
He makes a beeline for the bedroom and you trot over to the counter to finish your meal, most of it having been shared and eaten in the truck. You sit back a moment to enjoy the feeling of fullness when you see Simon emerge again.
"Bed. Now. Kept me up long enough" he's already on you before you can think of a reply, slung over his shoulder. He makes quick work of getting you both situated in your proper spots.
You're snuggled into his side for the night, full and content. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. you draw nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, playing with the hair there. As sleep overtakes you, your palm flattens over the spot where his heart resides; and you feel him relax just a smidgen more.
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