Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER ELEVEN - War Songs and Pancakes

I opened my eyes slowly, and groaned when sunlight from the window dared to shine directly over my eyes. I rose up from my bed and rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up. I reached for my phone to check the time. 8:34 am.
I sat for a moment thinking back on the previous night. Let's see...I got a call from Lisa, went for a walk in the rain, then Ghostface appeared. He carried me home, and we did...things. But then he planned to leave again, this time for good. I threw a bottle at him, somehow managed to convince him to stay with me...that's right! Ghostface is staying with me!
I perked up in my bed, a smile spread across my face, but then I recalled he left late in the evening after watching a movie together, to retrieve items from his hideout. I felt anxious at that moment. I wondered when I had fallen asleep. I intended to stay up until he came back but I was absolutely exhausted by the end of the night, and conked out. I wasn't even sure what time I went to bed, or when he left, or...if he ever came back. Feeling betrayed by my own thoughts as they brought back the dreadful thought of being left alone, I got up from the bed and pulled my cardigan I had been wearing the night prior off the back of my desk chair and threw it over myself. I made my way for the hall. Peering out, I listened. My heartbeat was in my ears as my anxiety rose. Faintly I started to hear shuffling coming from down the hall. I quietly tiptoed to the guest bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and I began to carefully creep it open to look within the room.
The sight of Ghostface pushing a wide cardboard box under the bed was relieving, but I also became curious. Somehow he seemed aware of my presence even though I attempted to be as quiet as possible. He turned to me and said, "Good morning!"
He stood to his feet and dusted off his hands. "Morning," I casually replied. I let out a sigh in a means to diminish the remaining anxiety. He looked to me and asked, "sleep well?" In his deep, raspy tone. "Yeah, I slept alright. When did you...get back last night?"
I felt bad as I also intended to help him carry his things in when he arrived.
"Around 5 am, just before the sun started coming up." I wondered if he had even slept. I looked around the room. There were a couple of boxes on the floor, some were rather large. A camera sat on the bedside table, and there were a couple of photographs sprawled across the bed, although I couldn't really make out the images from where I was standing. He seemed to notice my wandering gaze and started picking up the photos, neatly stacking them and putting them in one of the boxes. My mind trailed to something I remembered reading about. How people reported flashes that seemed to come from a camera, up until their timely demise. Curiosity rose in me and I wondered what kind of images those photographs held. I attempted to start a conversation to lead to it. "So, you like photography?"
He slid another box under the bed before answering. "Yeah, it's a hobby of mine." I started my prying. "What kind of photos do you take?" He stood up and looked to me, "Wouldn't you like to know." He spoke with a condecending tone. "Would I?" I retorted. "Probably not." He responded in a tone that implied he was smirking under that mask. He used his foot to kick the last box under the bed, the box I saw him tuck the photographs in. My eyes couldn't help but remain fixated on it. He walked over, and as he passed me to go through the frame of the door, he asked, "so what's for breakfast?"

We both walked downstairs, him ahead of me as though I was the guest and this was his home. He seemed comfortable here even before he decided to stay here. We made our way into the kitchen, and he began rumaging again. I knew he was only going to disappoint himself but I guess, as he put it last night, he was still human, and as humans do, no matter how many times you look through an empty fridge or pantry, you'll do it again with the false hope of something appearing.
He moved to the pantry, and this time pulled out a plastic container. "What the hell is in this?" He shook it slightly, looking at the assortment of bags with different contents. "Oh, just dry mixes and sugars." Suddenly an idea entered my head. I walked over to him and took the box from his hands, "there should be pancake mix in here." I informed. "What? Why didn't you tell me that sooner?" He responded. It was settled. Today's breakfast was gonna be pancakes. Not the most exciting or delicious pancakes considering I didn't have eggs or milk, bit believe it or not you can still infact make pancakes with simply the batter, water and butter. I went through the pantry myself, digging around to locate the maple syrup and a bag of chocolate chips. Thank God sugar basically doesn't expire.
I got to work, pulling up my sleeves, and began mixing the batter until it was wet yet thick enough. The confection disks sizzled in the pan, and without thinking I began to hum a tune to myself as for once I found I was having a good morning.
"What song are you humming?" Ghostface's voice brought me out of my melodic stupor. I felt a little embarrassed as truthfully I hadn't even noticed I was doing it at first. "Nothing really." I replied shyly. "No, what is it? It has a nice sound to it, I wanna know the song." He insisted. I wasn't sure how to tell him it wasn't a song you could hear on the radio or on an old band CD.
"It was something my grandfather used to sing..." I explained solemnly. "Apparently it was something the troops sang when he was at war, and I'd catch him singing it to himself sometimes." As I continued the explanation, I recalled the memories of him humming that tune. I even laughed slightly under my breath as I realized how much like him I had become. He too would be humming the tune without noticing until someone mentioned it. I remembered how he had hummed it to my grandmother while she laid on her death bed, and at her funeral when everyone else had gone, he stood over her grave, humming it once more. It seemed it was a means of relieving his pain and suffering. A song to put their fellow injured soldiers to sleep. Forever.
"He comes off as an interesting man." Ghostface expressed, brining me out of the passed. I turned to look at him. He was leaned against the kitchen island, and had his head leaned into one of his hands. Mask, of course, still on his face. "He was." I responded simply. I took a moment to view him from my position by the stove. It was still so hard to believe the changes in my life. "Hey." His voice caught my attention again. "You're burning it."
Like always, it took me a moment to catch on, then suddenly I turned back around and hastily flipped the blackening pancake. I could hear him giggling at me once more, and couldn't help but feel slightly agitated.
Without even noticing his advancements on me, his arms suddenly wrapped their way around my waist. I froze up from the sudden feeling of his warmth on my back. His gentle laughter continued, and he leaned down, putting his white mask against the side of my head.
"You're quite the space cadet." Feeling flustered I chose to retort. "You got a problem with that?" Though I tried to come off as bold and confident, it was apparent in my slightly wavering tone that I was anything but that. He shifted again, and I felt his warm breath on my ear. "Not one bit. It's cute." He breathed. I shivered involuntary. It was well known to the both of us that he knew what he was doing, and he definitely got off to it. One of his hands trailed down, and slid just above the waistband of my pajama shorts. His hand gradually came around to my hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. I felt the heat started by his actions grow within me. He whispered in my ear once more, "You're burning it again." I snapped out of my aroused state and shouted, "shit!"
He laughed somewhat loudly this time as he drew himself away from my body. I placed the pancake that had practically become charcoal on a plate to the side and glared at him, though I couldn't stay made seeing him with one of his hands over his masked eyes, leaned back slightly, laughing in content. My gaze softened and rather than a lusty warmth, I felt a warmth of peaceful happiness. One I started questioning if I had ever felt before.

We sat at the table beside the window together, and out of respect I tried not to stare when he lifted his mask slightly to eat his pancakes. I instead looked down at the blackened pancake on my own plate, mingling with two normal ones. I had been kind enough to give that one to myself. I reached across the table to a bottle of honey and began pouring its golden contents over my breakfast cakes. He stopped eating for a moment as he watched. I looked to him with a questioning gaze. "You eat pancakes with honey?" He asked sounding honestly confused. My strange habits were showing and I tried to stay confident about them. "Yeah...it's good. Plus it's healthier for you than syrup." I attempted to ignore his staring. To my surprise he reached out and took the bottle of honey from me when I had finished, and poured some on one of his own pancakes. I watched him take a bite, rather surprised he was even trying it. "Huh. Not bad." He said as he bobbed his head in enjoyment, the way he did with the pizza. It seemed to be the thing he did to express he liked something.
I ate through about half of mine, while Ghostface was already finished, and took his dishes over to the sink. He's got manners, I thought to myself. As a habit, I reached for my pack of cigarettes in my cardigan pocket. The sound of the lighter sparking caught his attention. "You smoke?" He asked, watching me take a drag off of my first cig of the morning. "Oh...yeah. Bad habit, I know." I replied, averting my gaze and looking out the window at birds flying between the trees of the back woods. "Can't be as bad of a habit as killing people," he said jokingly, then continued, "I kind of like it. You look so innocent, yet you have an edge to you."
He came back around to me, hovering over me from behind, I felt him leaning into me again, and his hand wrapped around. "Cute outfit by the way. You wear that just for me?" He asked while tugging on the strap of my silk tank top. I blushed, forgetting about my outfit and indeed my intentions of getting him to notice. "Dressing like that, it's almost like you're begging for me to do something to you." He whispered darkly as he leaned into me more, and his hand reached down to rest on my thigh, giving it a squeeze before sliding up, just before reaching my in-between. "Do you want me to do something to you, (y/n)?" His words dripped with erotic tension and I was about ready to beg for him to put his hands places they hadn't yet gone, when my phone alarm went off. He pulled away slightly as I reached for my phone in my other pocket.
"Work," the alarm was titled simply. I sighed in frustration, realizing I had to be at the library for my shift soon. He tussled my hair gently, likely knowing I had work and told me, "don't worry, we can get back to this later." He then made his way out of the kitchen and I heard his pressure on the steps of the stairs. He went back to his room. I whined as my head landed on the table, knowing damn well I was going into work today with the arousel level of an animal in heat.