#(...who was acting more like Don Hard-to-Get)

[grammarpedant]

Nope. Trap card #2, activated: There's no evidence that Gurathin is from the Corporation Rim.

The fanon that Gurathin is CR comes from a single line in Exit Strategy: Ratthi says, "It came to Preservation packed into the hold of that much bigger ship, the one that’s become the station, with our grandparents. Well, not Gurathin’s grandparents, he came later." Personally, I think there's even room here to interpret Gurathin as being born on Preservation as the child of immigrants, if Ratthi's use of "he came later" is taken as an imprecise synecdoche for Gurathin's family origins as a whole. Given that this is Ratthi "I'll get the cases" "I'm a biologist, I don't understand this money stuff" being sentimental and distractable in this scene, it's a fair cop.

Either way, "came later" does not mean "from the Corporation Rim." There are plenty of other places in the setting that are neither Preservation nor the CR. As early as Artificial Condition another set of non-corporate polities is mentioned, Rami's Divarti Cluster; it's not clear whether Don Abene's homesystems in Rogue Protocol are corporate or noncorporate, but she certainly has no "bone-deep" fear of SecUnits; Fugitive Telemetry meanwhile expounds on travel routes through Preservation Station stretching elsewhere "outside the Rim." The Rim is only one group of places that a human could be from.

No, people are mixing up Gurathin's backstory with Human One's. It's Human One who is the former corporate contract slave, and SHE is the one who acted rationally on her bone-deep, knee-jerk fear of SecUnits in shooting Murderbot in the back. She's not the only corporate-background character to interact with MB, though—even if we did want to headcanon that Gurathin did hail from the CR, we might just as reasonably compare Gurathin's "We just have to keep you immobilized" to Ras and Eletra's "Just tell it to take orders from us" and "It seems like you don't know how to control it" in Network Effect. Their corporate fear and prejudice and desire for control certainly does not stop them from thinking—with clear self-interest, if not rationally or clearly.

People can headcanon whatever they like, of course. By all means, if giving the backstory of a strong and fascinating female character to Gurathin tickles the fancy, then I encourage people to do that on their own time. But this post is my post, and I am not obligated to care about the things people made up outside the text in my analysis of the text.

Finally, let me address a point that's cropped up more than once now. We all know it's not easy to set aside prejudice and in-group bias and fear of the unknown to make rational or kind decisions. We all live in the real world and many of us have personally had to wrestle with the effects of unthinking fear and prejudice, both others' and our own. The Murderbot Diaries is a series that speaks to us as full thinking adults on this matter, that's why kindness is presented as a rational choice, not merely a morally right one. The series acknowledges that it's hard, but at the same time doesn't allow you to wallow in your own struggles to the exclusion of others'—it still asks you to try to see other people clearly for who they are and what they need, and use what agency you have to do right by them. Gurathin fucked up in this scene, then later stepped up and learned better, and rather than focusing over-much on how hard he had it we should learn from his example and do better.

Gurathin is not only wrong, his argument is fundamentally irrational

Gurathin's argument in ASR:

We need to immobilize this SecUnit stat, because it's going to kill us.

I know it's going to kill us because its logs show that it's rogue. If there is no way to control it, then it is dangerous to us.

It is controlled by the Company to sabotage us. "The missing hazard report, the missing map sections. The SecUnit must be part of that." If it wasn't, that would be a coincidence, which is unbelievable.

This SecUnit has gone rogue and killed people in its charge before. It may do so again.

PresAux's counterargument:

It may be rogue, but that doesn't logically mean it will kill us. "The fact that the Unit has been acting to preserve our lives, to take care of us, while it was a free agent, gives us even more reason to trust it." (Volescu)

Someone may be sabotaging us, but that doesn't logically mean it's the Company or our SecUnit. "There were only three SecUnits for DeltFall in their specs, but there were five units in their habitat. Someone is sabotaging us, but I don’t think our SecUnit is part of it." (Ratthi)

If the SecUnit was trying to sabotage us, then why would it tell us about the combat module sabotage and shoot itself? (Bharadwaj, Overse)

The SecUnit believes it went rogue as a result of malfunction, and that hacking its governor module would prevent a repeat occurrence. Confirmation of its sincerity comes from the same logs that Gurathin accessed for his arguments. (Volescu)

Gurathin's counter-counterargument:

Well it gave itself an edgy nickname

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Platonic Yandere Giorno and Adopted Mother (Bad seed inspired)

Familal Yandere Giorno X adopted mother reader

Warning: mentions of child abuse

They were his teacher when he started attending school. Alway kind to their students. They noticed he had trouble integrating and brought it up with his mother who assured them that he was fine. They believe that maybe he was just shy and needed time to get used to this.

His parents were often late to picking him up so darling watched him, eventually even tutoring him so that he could speak Italian better. Deep down they felt that something wasn't right but that wasn't enough to act on.

Eventually he started coming to school with bruises and welts. At first they asked his parents. He fell over they told them but it cleanly wasn't the case. So they stopped asking and took photos, eventually reporting it. They promised him that things would get better and that he needed to stay hopeful.

So when he was removed from his parents care they offered to foster him and were accepted. He was happy to be with them and so did they. For awhile it was only them, they even officially adopted him.

However around his early teens they met someone. All seemed well until their partner was caught cheating on them. Giorno was there to console them. Offered them everything he possibly could to help them. Mentally he vowed that he would never allow anyone to do this to his mother again.

Once again it was just the two of them and everything was fine until they decided to start dating again. Giorno didn't trust this person after the previous partner they had but stomached it for them. He did keep his eye out, even stalking their partner until he knew they weren't trustworthy. The partner disappears and once again Giorno was there to comfort them in their time of need.

Shortly after his stand fully manifests. Of course they are shocked and give him a light scolding about bleaching his hair, He should have told them first so they could have helped him. He doesn't argue it as how else is he able to explain it. They can't see any issues with the job so no harm, they even admit they like how his hair looks.

With hos newfound power he starts sabotaging any chance of a romantic relationship with them. One time they catch him going through their texts and quickly takes their phone off him.

"I need my privacy Giorno, I know you're worried but I can take care of myself" they tell him

Eventually his petty sabotaging doesn't work and you end up in another relationship. They can tell Giorno isn't happy with it but they assure him that their new partner is a good person.

Perhaps the new partner catches him doing one of his shady side hustles and does him to them. They are disappointed by him and try to deter him from doing it again. It becomes evident that the new partner wants him out of the picture. Constantly finding ways to get him in trouble and suggests they send him to a boarding school to "straighten him out" they do consider sending him for different reasons, wanting him to give him some more freedom and so that he'll have a good secondary education (as highschools in italy are more similar to university / college that you study for particular professions).

He respects their decision. But after he ends up as Don of Passione He kills the partner and uses his power to hide the body. This time she's has a feeling that her partner didn't leave on their own volition and the police get involved however it quickly becomes a cold case.

Eventually Giorno returns to tell them about his accomplishments they're horrified. They had tried so hard to keep him as far away from the mafia but now he's a Don. What ever happened to their sweet boy.

He tries to sway them over. Debts are cleared. He offers them new houses and cars. Gifts them with luxuries beyond their wildest dreams but to them it all Blood money.

He just wants his mother back, he's trying to repay her for everything they've done for him. He wants to know they're safe and he can't trust another to do so.

[abearinthewoods]

This is what radical feminists do when you don't agree that 100% of men jerk off to rape.

@radfemih8men Care to fucking explain yourself? (edit: she did, in the comments. long story, she confirmed it and thinks two wrongs make a right)

>mentions the darknet. 100% needs to have her hard drive check out.

Anyways, report this convo to the police, saying this kind of thing to a 13 year old is actually a sex offense PURELY ON ITS OWN in a lot of places.

[micrathene-w]

Checklist Challenge 7

I feel like I should subtitle this one "The Hunt for Don!"

Since Mr Lothario didn't show up at any of the gyms (or anywhere else Alexa had visited), we had to venture to the Caliente household and hope for the best. Luckily -and unluckily - everyone was home. So she finally got the meet the infamous Don... but they couldn't just speed-run through to doing the deed, as Alexa wasn't about to incur the wrath of all three Caliente women.

For the moment, she settled for an introduction, then added him on Social Bunny and sent a couple of flirty messages there. After a little more fishing and Practicing Speech to get that Charisma up, she headed back to the Rattlesnake Juice Bar and called Don to see if he'd join her.

He agreed, showed up on the lot, walked up to the door - then immediately turned around and dipped out. 😒

Saturday, Alexa hit her goal for the Side Hustle simoleons.

Since maxed Handiness comes into play later, these funds went to buying a woodworking table. Once she builds up a stock of little statues, a sales table can be the next purchase so she can sell those, her excess honey from the bee box, and collectibles.

(This is also about the point where her "Outdoorsy" Lifestyle started working against us. Even though the woodworking table is outside in the yard, apparently anything on her home lot counts as indoors; she kept getting Bored moodlets from "being stuck inside" even when there was rain falling on her little blonde pixel head.)

Saturday morning followed the usual routine: tend garden, eat grilled cheese, pop over to The Realm to see what tomes, crystals & ingredients are on offer for the day, then switch out between several different skills so she doesn't get too bored of any one.

In the evening just because The Watcher was feeling grudgy, she tried to spend time with Don again, this time heading to the bar in Evergreen Harbor. (Hey, Dumpster Woohoo is on the list too, and Don was being trash anyway, so...)

This time he at least walked inside the building - and even had a couple of interactions with Alexa. Then he walked back outside, coughed dramatically, and vanished again.

[I vented to @whyhellosims about this, then wondered if maybe Neighborhood Stories or MCCC had shoe-horned him into an evening job, and that's why he kept leaving. She suggested the "invite to hang out at current lot" might be buggy at the moment, and to try Travel With instead.]

SO to try to dodge both possible issues, Alexa skipped her first chance at the Flea Market, and at around lunchtime on Sunday invited Don to Travel With her to the Salty Paws Saloon after a quick switch of their regular garbage can for a dumpster.

Lo and behold, the bartender knew how to make Cupid Juice - a nice little boost to the mood I had not expected but certainly wouldn't complain about! And with that help, finally...

The two-fer was accomplished! ...and now Alexa can dip out on Don, never to be seen again lol.

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, reader and kiri are 3rd yrs (meaning everyone is 18+), biting duh lol, slight blood play (but its only bc kiri’s teeth r so mf sharp), uhm riding ig, idk this is pretty vanilla and also kinda short GENRE: smut & kinda fluff SUMMARY: you finally work up the courage to ask your shark-toothed boyfriend to bite you—something he enjoys much more than he thought he would. WORD COUNT: 765 🦊’s A/N: kiri… you r so precious but also a bad bitch…. anyway i’ll be back for the next three days. god save me

     “i want you to bite me.”

     “huh?!” eijirou pulls away from your sloppy kiss, wiping away the spit on his lips with the back of his hand as he looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. 

     you two had known each other since middle school, and had been dating for about six months now. currently, you were straddling his lap, his dick buried deep within your creamy cunt, with his back propped up against the headboard.

     “you heard me,” you tell him. “please, eiji,” you add, a pout tugging at your lips as you hit him with your best puppy dog eyes. 

     one thing about eijirou kirishima is that he was always careful when it came to you — never being too rough with you, acting as if you were made out of glass or porcelain, when that’s the last thing that you were. you didn’t take it personally, of course, as you knew eijirou was just kinda like that, but still…. you wish he’d do something other than just covering you in kisses. 

     you were well aware of his shark-like teeth, and truthfully, you wouldn’t mind if the jagged fangs drew a little bit of blood…. you’re sure your boyfriend would, though, so you don’t bother mentioning that part to him.

     “are you— are you sure?” he asks, a little hesitant as he looks you in the eye. 

     “never been so sure about anything, baby—please just bite me, i promise this isn’t something i’m asking for on a whim,” you try to convince him.

     “you’ve thought about it before? me biting you?” you can feel his dick twitch inside you, like he liked that you’d been thinking about him. 

     “yeah, so please bite me, baby, i promise you’re not gonna hurt me,” you coo, cupping your boyfriend’s face and pressing a heated kiss to his spit-soaked lips. it’s eijirou who pulls away first, kissing your cheek, and then your jaw, down to your neck, licking over the column of your throat before he nibbles lightly against a particularly sensitive spot and you let out a little moan to encourage him.

     eijirou’s ears perk up at the noise you make, and his dick twitches in response as he bites down a little harder—careful not to draw blood, though, he knew how sharp his teeth were. 

     “harder,” you whimper quietly, rolling your hips down against his, cunt fluttering around his cock. 

     “are you sure? i don’ wanna hut yo—”

     “eiji, please just shut up and bite me,” you whine pathetically, and suddenly eijirou finds himself obeying your request without a second thought, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, so hard that his eyes fly open when he tastes something metallic and coppery—oh shit! oh, fuck! he had drawn blood!

     carefully, he licks up the red liquid and pulls away to look at you—just to find you nearly cross eyed as you tried to ride him, jaw dropped in sheer bliss as you pant heavily, your tits bouncing with each heave of your chest.

     oh. 

     he feels himself get impossibly harder, even without his quirk, and his cock spasms inside your messy cunt as he ruts up into you, firmly grabbing onto your hips as he spreads his legs a little wider and plants his feet against the mattress to start really fucking up into you, and you can feel the wind get knocked out of your lungs.

     “aa–aah! nngh, fuck, eiji—!” it’s all you can do to whimper and moan, grabbing onto his shoulders for stability. 

     bringing his lips back to your skin, he bites at the junction of your neck and shoulder before sucking at the flesh there, working to leave a mark that would last a week at least.

     “mmh,” you hum, nails leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake. “bite me all y’want, baby,” you tell him, one hand threading itself into his spiky hair. it’s not as soft as it could be, due to the gel keeping it up, but you tug gently at the red locks anyway.

     kirishima takes your words at face value, biting and licking all along the surface of your neck, covering it in bite marks, drawing blood in less noticeable places like your shoulders or the base of your neck (unless your hero costume was revealing… in which case, that completely slipped his mind).

     at first, he didn’t quite get the appeal of inflicting pain onto a partner, no matter how minor, but after seeing your reaction, and feeling the way your pussy fluttered around him with each new mark? yeah, he was quick to change his mind.

return to KINKTOBER | MAIN M.LIST

[nadvs]

just one time (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you’re constantly venting to rafe about how unlucky you are in love. one night, he gets fed up hearing about your insecurities and finally shows you how badly he’s always wanted you.

tags best friends to (temporary) lovers. alcohol mention. filthy smut. angsty ending. divider credit.

Rafe Cameron gives it to people straight. Hell will be an ice rink before he offers anyone words that have been coated with sugar.

He’s been like that since you befriended him in the twelfth grade, when you both donned private school uniforms and jaded scowls that had no business being on the faces of privileged teenagers.

The only thing steady about Rafe is his honesty. It’s why you go to him for the truth. You know your best friend will dole it out without a single inhibition holding him back.

And it’s what you desperately need right now.

You’re lying in your bed and holding your thumb against your phone screen, every passing second cracking your heart a little more.

The cycle continues, the curse lives on – another man you have growing feelings for has indirectly rejected you, this time through a story on social media. The photo shows his hand holding a woman’s over a car console, paired with a sappy caption.

When you saw him last weekend, you ended the date with a kiss. He’s been on your mind since, while he probably forgot about you the second he drove off your street. He’s already with another woman. One he actually likes.

The all too familiar feeling of inadequacy screws a hole into your chest. You hate that something as trivial as validation from the men you date can hit you this hard, but it can and it does.

It’s a pattern now. Your texts go unanswered, your crushes unrequited, and at this point, you need to know what it is about you that men deem so unwantable.

You need Rafe and his unwavering disposition for telling the truth, no matter how ugly it is. You text him: come over?

He responds: What’s up? I’m with the guys.

You reply: need your opinion on something when you stop being too busy for me.

Maybe if you ask nicely.

You scoff to yourself. Typical Rafe, acting like time with him is a gift. You text: jerk.

Damn. Right to calling me names. Is it that bad?

You close the conversation, knowing you’re taking your disappointment out on him, but too pissed off to curb it. He lets his anger drive him; it’s rubbed off on you.

You’re just as upfront with him as he is with you. While he can tell you if you’re overreacting about a fight with a girlfriend, you can tell him when he’s been drinking too much. Honesty is the foundation of your friendship and you both hinge on this hard but necessary way of caring for each other.

After a few minutes, Rafe texts: I’ll head over soon. You know him well enough to imagine the annoyed huff he let out when he gave in to you and typed out the message.

As expected, Rafe’s friends give him shit when he tells them he’s leaving to see you. They’ve been like that for years, jeering him for being so soft for a girl who doesn’t even put out.

But their taunting doesn’t get under his skin. They don’t understand that Rafe could count the things he cares about on one hand and that you’re one of them.

They don’t know him as well as they think. They were all friends when he was an eighteen-year-old with a chip on his shoulder, but they had no clue what he was going through.

They didn’t know that he wasn’t getting any sleep because the fighting echoing through the walls at home kept him up. They didn’t know how hard he took the catastrophic divorce he had to watch unfold. They didn’t know how badly he needed to escape.

But you did. You let him slump next to you at the back of class for an entire semester, sleeping while you took two sets of notes. You reminded him to bust his ass until the end of the school year, giving him the tough love he needed to graduate.

And it was all because of one night, at a party, when he drunkenly confessed to you how shitty his life was and how he just wanted to make his dad proud after his mom left.

He’s never said it to you, but he owes you for pulling him out of the hole he’d fallen into back then. You were just a pretty girl assigned to sit next to him, until you became more, and he’s kept you close since.

Your bedroom is dimly lit. He doesn’t know what it is, if it’s a perfume or shampoo or cream you use, but he knows that he finds relief when he smells the familiar fragrance that means you’re around.

You shut your door behind him, falling into bed on your back, your hands over your eyes.

“Tell me,” he says, settling onto the edge of your bed. The mattress sinks with his weight. “Why’d I come all the way over here?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you ask.

Rafe’s eyes trail to where your shorts end, the flesh of your thighs tantalizingly swelling past the hem.

“A lot,” he jokes.

You sit up and he looks away. It’s a skill he’d mastered, forcing his eyes off of you at the right moment so you don’t catch him staring.

“Seriously,” you say, a tremble in your voice that you weren’t expecting. “I want to know.”

The hardness in his face fades, his stare melting into something gentler.

Moments like these, you see the guy you knew in school, the one who’d pretend he was heartless, when really, his emotions ran layers deeper than he ever let on.

“What do you mean?” Rafe asks.

“Why does every guy I like treat me like I’m nothing special?”

His hardness reappears, like a light being switched on.

“This shit again?” he mutters. “You called me over to talk about guys?”

“Be honest. What is it about me?”

He sighs your name in frustration, having heard this so many times. This is territory he refuses to go into with you.

If he’s honest, you’ll find the desire he’s hidden away from you and it’ll open a door he won’t be able to slam shut.

Feelings don’t last. Love is a joke. He learned that young. He’s not about to put himself through the same lesson and fuck things up with his best friend just because he finds her so agonizingly attractive.

“I need the truth,” you say. “I liked this guy and I thought he liked me, too, but he’s with another girl now and–”

“And what?” Rafe interrupts. “Did you want to marry him? You’re always crashing out over losers.”

You inch closer to him and pull your knees up to your chest, your stare doleful.

“Are they all losers?” you say. “Or are some of them right that I’m missing something?”

“You need to get your shit together,” he says sternly.

“I’m know I’m being pathetic,” you say. You gaze at him, at the crease between his brows, at the way his lips firm when he’s irritated. “But it’s just… what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being nice and I hate it.”

“Being nice,” Rafe repeats in a disbelieving huff.

“Just tell me what to fix.”

A tense silence blankets you both, you anticipating harsh words, him clueless as to what to do.

“Call one of your girlfriends for this,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I love them, but they’d just give me a pep talk and say that guys are intimidated by me or something,” you say. “This is why I called you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Come on. I hear the gross way you talk about girls with your friends,” you reply.

Countless times, Rafe’s vulgarities have fallen on your ears, evidence of his rough and untamed edges. You’ll never be more than friends and that’s okay, because if he ever were to find a girl that he wants to be serious with, she’d have to tolerate his temper, his narcissism, his volatility.

And while you love him, you could never love him like that.

“Just pretend I’m a stranger,” you continue. “What would you say to your friends about me if you saw me enter a room?”

Rafe would rather not imagine you as a stranger. The thought of his life without you makes an empty feeling spiral in his gut.

He wants you from any distance. He craves the taste of your tongue, something he’s never even had. He dreams about your legs wrapped around his hips. He wants to hear the noises you make when you’re drunk in pleasure.

Fuck. Had he known he was walking into this, he never would have gotten into his car.

“Rafe,” you say impatiently, oblivious to the irritation that turns inside him whenever you force these types of conversations.

“For the fiftieth fucking time, you don’t need to change anything,” he says. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

You exhale slowly and look down to your bedsheets, so used to his abrasiveness that it doesn’t even leave a scratch.

“That guy kissed me when he dropped me off,” you mumble. “Maybe I’m a bad kisser and that’s why he isn’t into me.”

Rafe’s eyes lower to your lips, glossy from the way you’d just licked them, and he can’t imagine those lips going anywhere near him and not being appreciated for it.

“I doubt it’s that,” he relents. You meet his blue eyes.

“You think so?” you ask.

“You’d know if you were bad at it,” he says. The square of his sharp jaw tenses.

“How?”

“You can just tell,” Rafe says. “Seriously… just get it together. You’ll be fine.”

He shuffles to stand up, but you pull him back by the crook of his elbow, your touch sending an electric current through his body.

“Why are you being more of an asshole than usual?” you ask. “Did something happen?”

He tries not to drown in your gaze, but he does, comforted by the sympathy that nobody else offers him.

“I can’t hear you saying this shit about yourself,” he admits. “And whatever I say just doesn’t register.”

“Rafe, be real with me. I know my body isn’t perfect and I know I’m not the prettiest girl around, so it’s not like I’m delusional.”

He scoffs. You are delusional. And it chips away at him, listening to you list your insecurities, ones that have no basis in reality.

You’re fucking beautiful and you have nothing to change and he doesn’t know nor care why the morons you date don’t see it.

“I can take the truth,” you repeat. “I think you’re just scared to be honest because you don’t want to hurt me.”

Your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths. Your eyes search his with caring curiosity. You’re enveloped in privacy for the millionth time, but he hasn’t ever felt this tempted to give in.

And he finally breaks.

“Kiss me, then. I’ll be honest,” Rafe murmurs, selfish and selfless at the same time.

Shock doesn’t touch your features, not for a second. You know he’d do anything for you, even go to these types of measures to prove you wrong.

You lean forward, your lips hesitatingly pressing on his. You slowly melt into the kiss, and it’s too easy to overlook the fact that the lips on yours are your best friend’s, as you’re revelling in how soft his lips are and tasting a hint of whiskey and savoring the arousal coiling in your core.

Your noses brush together as you push closer, perching on your knees, breath hitching when his big hands cradle your face.

His ring presses against your cheek, the ring you’ve seen him wear over so many years, and its hardness is a reminder of how long you’ve known him, how insane it is to be doing this with him.

He pulls back, dying to know if you feel it too, the spark sizzling in the air, the fire despairing to be stoked.

“You’re good,” he rasps, his breath warm on your cheek, hands still cupping your jaw.

“Just good?” you whisper sadly.

“Fuck,” Rafe mutters. His muscles are stiff and his boxers are getting tighter. He’ll go as far as you’ll let him go so he can prove to you that the words describing how badly he wants you don’t exist.

His grip firms, pulling you into him again. The more of your taste that he gets, the more he wants. He’s hungry for you, ravenous, and if you’re letting him finally surrender to his appetite, he’ll stop putting up this bullshit front that he doesn’t fantasize about you.

Your tongues run over each other’s, lips smacking as he pushes you down to your back.

Your mind is spinning. This is Rafe. The man who looks at you like you’re one of the guys, who tells you about his noncommittal hook-ups, who feels nothing but friendship for you.

Logic is dulled by lust and you give in completely. You hook an arm around his neck, writhing beneath him, begging for some friction.

He shifts to put his thigh between your legs as if you’ve done this before, giving you relief when you grind up against him. You’re tumbling into mindless bliss, starved for him, for the validation he can give you.

He’s hard against your thigh. It makes desire heat you from the inside out. You’re friends, but you’re not ignorant to the fact that he’s the most attractive man you know, so feeling his body’s charge for you is intoxicating.

You lower a hand, feeling for the bulge beneath his jeans, touching him in a way you never would have expected to, feeling yourself getting wetter.

Rafe ducks his head, teeth nipping at your neck, hips rolling into yours as you stroke his cock, too many layers of clothes between you.

“You’re fucking hot, alright?” he murmurs into your ear. You can only nod as you continue to rub his length, anticipating how he’ll feel inside of you. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“Just one time,” you whisper, because even though you’re lost in the moment, you’re not so stupid that you won’t build a safeguard around your heart.

You’ve already been fooled by the familiar emotions rushing through you, tricking you into thinking that a man wanting to fuck is a man capable of love.

You need to remember it, especially now. You know Rafe. He doesn’t want love and he doesn’t want to give it.

“One time,” he echoes. “Take your shirt off.”

You’re trembling beneath him, your words caught in your throat, eagerly shifting to pull your top over your head. The moment you’re left in your bra, he digs his head into your chest, hands gripping your tits tightly, breathing in sharply.

Rafe’s kisses are sloppy and heated and he roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, exposing you, stabilizing himself on his elbows as he drinks in how goddamn perfect you are.

The closest he’s ever been to seeing you naked in the past was when he’d notice the peaks of your nipples under a shirt or a bikini. He’d imagine how they’d feel in his mouth. He doesn’t have to imagine anymore.

His lips close around your nipple, sucking and licking, earning soft, surprised moans from you. Your hand finds his hair, fingernails dragging over his scalp as he wets your chest with his spit.

“Wow,” you breathe. You can feel yourself clenching for him, your hips stuttering in need. Your hands drag down his back, bunching up his t-shirt.

He sits up to pull it off and throw it to the floor, looking down at you, his body broad and hard and heaving. You spread your legs wider, slowly pitching your hips forward with desperate eyes.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he speaks with his body instead, resting his hand between your legs to slowly stroke his thumb over you. You sigh in pleasure when he rolls over your clit, silently begging him to take what’s left of your clothes off.

Rafe keeps his eyes on yours when his fingers hook under your shorts, wriggling to make sure he’s captured the band of your panties, too. He drags them down your legs, gazing at you like he’s never seen a naked woman before, his face pinched in awe.

“God,” he moans. He doesn’t waste a second. His chest is on your bed, his head between your legs, and his open mouth makes contact, hot and wet and perfect.

He laps at you, drool rolling down the side of his mouth, his face drenched in your arousal. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, gentle whimpers spilling out of your mouth.

The thought of someone not wanting you feels like an unknown concept, like something that never even crossed your mind. He’s ravishing you like he’ll die if he stops.

He’s licking and sucking with abandon, reaching every inch, dipping his tongue inside and sighing in pleasure simply from tasting you.

“Your pussy’s so sweet,” he rasps against your inner thigh. “I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard. Say you want it.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, thoughts a tangled mess. This is not what best friends are supposed to do. You don’t care.

“Please,” your voice comes out weak and honeyed, eyes shut. “Now.”

Anticipation rolls through you when you hear Rafe unzip his pants. His jeans are bunched up at the end of your bed and he hovers over you and you’re so glad that he doesn’t wait.

He holds himself at his base, guiding into your heat, filling you quickly, the pressure hard but perfect.

Your stomach numbs when he bottoms out and surrounds you in himself, the realization hitting you like a wave that he’s inside you right now, that he feels you as intensely as you feel him, that your bodies are joined in a way you never thought they would be.

He rocks back to thrust into you, your body jolting, your legs wrapping around him. He finds a rhythm, every push into you paired with a heavy exhale as his cheek presses against yours.

The line between you blurs and breaks with every movement.

“Tell me you’ll stop talking like that,” Rafe demands. He rolls his eyes from the thrill of how tight you are around his cock, squeezing him in hot, wet velvet. It’s so much better than he imagined.

“I will,” you promise. His chest is firm and hot against you, skin sticking with sweat.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore,” he whispers, voice strained. “I want you to remember how bad I wanted to fuck you whenever you think that stupid shit about yourself.”

“Yes,” you whisper. Rafe doesn’t care enough to lie. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t fake what you do to him. He’s being honest when he says there’s nothing about yourself that you need to change.

He’s driving into you at a perfect angle, giving your clit sweet friction against his groin, pulling you closer into an orgasm. Your hands are on his hard back, feeling his muscles tense and loosen.

He kisses your neck, telling himself to remember every single detail. Your noises and your aroma and your touch. You said it yourself, just one time, and you’re right, because he’s never had his heart involved in sex like this.

It’s fucked up and wrong for him to feel what he’s feeling. He’s proving a point, he’s indulging a fantasy, and that’s it.

“Shit,” you whisper, back arching as the coil in you gets closer to snapping. “I’m…”

You come with a shudder, your entire body tightening around him, fireworks sparking every single nerve in your system. Pleasure pools you from head to toe, leaving you shaking.

Rafe groans when he feels you flutter around him, pulsating with your peak. He starts to thrust harder and sloppier, dismissing the notion of making this last and instead giving in to the impulse to take the same satisfaction he’s given you.

He comes inside you with a hitched breath, his mouth open at the crook of your neck as a rush of euphoria rips through him.

And he collapses. Body against body, still inside you, panting with you, blissed out and so fucking confused.

The lust dissolves and reality sinks in and he can tell by the look on your face that you’re thinking the same thing when he pulls out: What the fuck did you just do together?

It comes with years of knowing each other; he can read your expression, not needing to hear the words to know you regret this, too.

You sit up, pulling your sheet over your chest, eager to pretend there’s a boundary even after what you’d just done.

“I believe you now,” you say with a thin voice, desperate to somehow put back together the pieces you’d just shattered, even through a lighthearted joke. “You fixed me.”

Despite himself, Rafe huffs a chuckle, leaning against the wall, following your cue to cover up, acting like you hadn’t just plunged into an unreal level of intimacy.

You stare at each other from across the bed, the weight of your friendship, all the shared memories and inside jokes and ridiculous arguments and promise of an uncomplicated bond, now on shaky ground.

His eyes travel over your pretty features, having never felt this after sex. Satisfied, but famished for more.

“I didn’t mean for… I mean, that’s not why I called you,” you say awkwardly. You take in his pink cheeks, the sweat sheened over his skin, his lips wet and parted. “I… didn’t plan this.”

“I know,” he replies. “Me, neither. It was just one time.”

“Right,” you say.

It’s what you agreed to.

He wanted to prove something to you and he did.

And if you have any respect for each other, if you have any cares for keeping your friendship and not messing it up with sex any more than you already have, you know it’ll need to stay that way.

Just one time.

(the end)

[seranextdoor]

HAUNTING ~ JASON P. TODD. 18+

Summary: Maybe blocking Jason isn't such a great idea.

Contents: dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), fingering in the alleyway, fucking in the alleyway hence risky sex slash teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism, rough sex, size difference, unhealthy relationship.

Pairing: Jason P. Todd X Female! Reader.

Word count: 2.6k

Author note: an anon implied that they want a part two of the drabble i made abt ex! jason. it is here... and it's valentine's day special. sorry for dropping bangers and leaving for another 2 months. will do it again. enjoy!

🖥️ MAIN MENU. PART ONE.

I know if I’m haunting you,

you must be haunting me.

You told yourself this was going to be the last time. The morning after Jason had left, you were already blocking his number and changing the lock to your front door the next day. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity that helps you realized that maybe… maybe this things going on between you and him wasn’t exactly healthy. Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore the calls you’ve been getting from ‘unknown’ caller knowing full well it was him.

You think it’s a little cute when he went as far as to text you from Dick’s number.

He thinks you’re a brat.

Besides, who cares if what him and you had going on wasn’t healthy? You didn’t have to blocked him.

Whatever, what’s done is done. “He’s going to stop reaching out eventually.” you told yourself only to see him leaning against his bike, waiting for you in one of the alleyway you always passes after your night shift a week after blocking him. The red helmet slightly glints in the dark when the streetlight hits, “come here,” he murmurs, head tilts slightly to the side. There’s a battered bouquet of red roses in his hand, the veins on his forearm pokes out from how tight he gripped the bouquet to the point that the stems are crushed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, princess. Come get your flowers.” Jason adds, his other hand reached up to removed his helmet as he placed it on the seat of his bike.

”I don’t want to.” A small huff left your lips.

”Just do it, goddamnit [Y/N].”

Old habits die hard.

Your shoulders drops in defeat as you dragged your feet to him, you can’t help it. As much as you want to keep up the ‘I’ve-totally-moved-on’ acts, you just can’t. So here you are, not even five minutes in and Jason already had his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips naturally finding their way to yours the second you had your head slightly tilts up. “Blocked my number, huh? What, you think you’re so mature, huh?” He snorts, letting the bouquet falls from his hand to hold you tighter in his arms. “I didn’t block you…” You whined, standing on your tip toes to keep him quiet by smothering his lips with small pecks.

”Yeah right, that’s totally believable.” He scoffed in between the pecks you're giving him, his head tilts down to make it easier for you to reached in for more kisses. “Because my texts and calls totally got thru.” You can practically taste the sarcasm dripping from the way he talks to you. “I might have accidentally blocked you.” You pulled back slightly to watch as his face gradually sours. He stared back at you with an annoyed look, his brows furrowed before a low groan leaves his lips. “Face the wall.” He groaned, his fingers running thru his black locks before you reluctantly turn to face the wall, “We’re doing it right here?” You stuttered as you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your eyes quickly widened when he pressed himself against you. His bulge slightly rubs against your ass, his hands digs into your hips to keep you still. “Damn right we are.” He says, his breathing slightly staggered as he moves his hips slightly to get more friction against his clothed cock.

You leaned the back of your head, fingers latching onto his forearms as a support. “You’re so annoying, you know that, right?” He speak with a gruff, there’s creases on his forehead as Jason looked back at him. “How many times are you going to do this, huh? Acting like I don’t exist and blocking my number the second we had sex. I’m gettin’ real sick of it, [Y/N].” His hand reached up to grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him  as he grinds himself against the curves of your ass. “Fucking brat.” He adds, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “My fucking brat.”

“I don’t know,” you breathes, your lips instinctively parting as Jason slips his thumb into your mouth. “…until you’re bored of me?.” You muffled out your words, eyes slowly turning cloudy from the having his cock brushing up against you. He scoffed at your reasoning, rolling his eyes before he pressed his thumb down your tongue.

”As if.” He mumbled, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re gonna block me again after this?” His eyes flickered to looked back at you. You stared at him for a solid minute with only the sound of his jeans and your skirt rubbing together can be heard before he removed his thumb off your tongue to let you speak. “No?” You stammers, mentally cursing yourself when he smirked at your answer. “Good girl.” He replied, his hand falls to the hem of your skirt.

”I missed you,” A soft whine left his lips as his fingers desperately reached down to rub your clit. Jason leaned against you to leave kisses on your neck and up to your jaw as his fingers pushes your panties aside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” He mutters, massaging the bundle of nerves in a circular motion. He slowly swipes his fingers between your folds as you leave trails of your wetness on his fingers. “Looks like this pretty little thing misses me too.” He chuckled when you whimpers at the feeling of his fingers being pushed inside of you. “I missed you too…” You whined, eyes shut tight as he pumps his digits deeper into your sopping cunt. The wetness between your legs sticks to your thighs and clings to his fingers, his teeth hungrily leaving marks on your neck. “Sorry for blocking you.” Your body shuddered in sheer bliss when his fingers curls with his calloused palm constantly brushing against your clit.

”Yeah? You’re sorry?” He asked, his voice growing breathy while his other hand clumsily undo his belt and zipper. A small frustrated groan leaves his throat before he pulls his fingers out of you causing you to pout and whine. “Oh, come on. Give me a second.” He laughed, turning you around but this time facing his bike. He moves your leg up on the seat before he kneel down behind you. “Fuck… Look at that.” He whispers, his warm breath fanned against your pussy before he desperately buried his face in between your thighs. “Jason!” You squeaked, toes curling upon feeling his tongue lapping on your clit with his fingers tightly gripping your thighs. His thick fingers leaving marks on your skin as you squirmed on his bike, causing him to land a spank on your cheek.

You whined. “What’s that for?” You looked back at him only to be met with his dazed eyes and his mouth still latching onto your pussy, drinking every liquid that drips out of you. For once in the span of an hour filled with nothing but his sarcasm, he was quiet. Except for the occasional groans and moans every time you pushes deeper against his nose. Your nails digs into the cushion of his seat as you whimpers when he slide his tongue into your entrance, prodding in and out of your entrance before he finally pulled back for some air.

”Jeez, Jay…” He looked up at you when you pouted, his cheeks and chin were coated with your juices before his eyes cast down to the way you wiggled your hips at him. “…keep going.” You bat your lashes at him, the excitement in your stomach stirs as he tugs his pants and boxer just low enough for his cock to springs out of the tight confinement before gently slapping against his stomach. His thumb keeping your panties aside and your entrance exposed to him, "Calm down, princess." He sighs before his teeth digs into his lower lip, it's been a hard week since he felt anything close to this. Sure, he settled on his fist for the first two days before he completely stopped when he realised that fucking his fist to the thought of you wasn't as good as fucking you.

He slowly moves his hips, managing to bury the tip of his cock inside of you as he lets out a choked moan. "Still feels good as ever." He moaned, head tilted back with his eyes closed. His cock twitches in you when small whines falls past your lips, sending vibrations down to him as the muscles tightening around his length. "Christ, you're still not used to me?" His breath were shaky before he looked down to you, admiring at the clear size difference between the two of you as you tried your best to take every inch of him.

"S'not my fault," You huffed, your legs slightly trembles underneath him. Jason shifts your position slightly, holding you by the waist with one hand while his other hand makes their way under your shirt to fondled with your tits. "Never said it was." He replied, pushing his cock deeper inside of you until he’s halfway in when he stopped, noticing the way you tensed up. “It’s okay, baby. Just a few more inches and the hard part’s over.” Your body shuddered from his whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck before you quickly nods at his words. His hand reached to wiped the sweats off your forehead before his hips slowly moves, “Mhm, just like that… Just relax.” Jason coos, planting small kisses on your temples.

A whine break out of your sealed lips when he completely buried himself inside of you, filling every crevices off your pussy with his twitching cock. The curve of his length itches just the sweet spot to make you see stars, “Jason…” The sound of you calling his name temporarily distracts him from the way your pussy clamped him down. His fingers had its deadly grips on your hips as you stand on your tip toes just to slightly fuck yourself on his cock, “Yeah?” He croaked, replying back to you with a deeper tone as he glanced down to the way your ass softly slaps against his pelvis, “You’re adjusting?” He asked before you let a small ‘mhm’ left your lips.

“You’re just fucking yourself on me.”

“No, I’m not.” You lied with a crooked grin. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Just look at the damn wall. You’re gonna break that dainty little neck if you keep looking back at me like that.” He mumbled, moving his hips into you in a more quicker pace. “Hold onto my helmet. Drop it and I’m stopping.” He grabbed a fistful off your ass while you quickly grabbed the red helmet, hugging it to your chest. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the dark alleyway, your shared moans and groans reverberates and bounces off the brick walls. He moves his hand down between your legs, his fingers pressing down on your clit as he moves it in sloppy, circular motion. His other hand holding on the handle of his bike, “Lift your ass up, baby.” He grunted, brow furrowing as his hips moves back and forth, every thrust felt like he’s sending you over the edge.

”I’m trying!” You said in a hushed tone, too breathless. You weren’t sure if your knees can take anymore before they buckled to the dirty ground. In an act of desperation, Jason lifts you up with his forearm under your stomach causing your legs to dangled off the ground before he continue shoving his fat cock into your dripping pussy. You let out a small gasp, he’s really doing it-- he’s quite literally carrying you like a doll. “Can’t even do the simplest thing.” He huffed, eyes closed with his the tip of his nose tickling the crook of your neck as your fingers clings to his helmet, not wanting to dropped it lest he stopped just for the sake of making you miserable.

Your eyes lazily gazes at the other end of the alleyway where anyone that decides to passed the alleyway can noticed the both of you. Your cheeks warmed up at the thought, minimizing your moans into small squeaks and whines. You glanced at Jason, hoping he doesn’t notice only for him to sharply thrust into you to elicit a loud moan out of you, green eyes narrowing down at you. “Don’t be quiet,” He whispered, his other hand reached to traced the curve of your spine with his thumb lightly. “Let me hear you.” He dragged his voice to sound slightly whiny just to tease you even further.

You hated how much you expected this from the get go.

Blocking him was never an option, Jason has a knack when it comes to keeping you tied to him. One command from him and you’d rushed back into his arms like a puppy, hopelessly lingering around him. “Feels so good…” You whispered back, lashes thick with salty tears as wanton moans spills out of your swollen lips. You hated the fact that the both of you knows this. You’re not even sure if the both of you were even exes at some point. The feeling of the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot sends you shivering despite being half dressed, it doesn’t help how godly his cock is. The delicious curve that sends you whining for more, the noticeable vein on the side of his length, the way his balls slaps against your clit, the thickness of it-- all of it drives you insane, fills your body with nothing but carnal desires.

“Outside? Inside?” He asked in between his groans, strands of his black locks sticks to his forehead as his jaw clenches. You know it’s near when his movement grow sloppy and inconsistent, his eyes darkened with sheer lust and the muscles on his bicep flexes. “Fuck, don’t just gimme puppy eyes, princess. Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth, purposely moving his hips rougher into you as you cried out of pleasure. “Out, out, out…” Your babbles almost went incoherent when you choked on your own moans while you blinks away the tears that welled at the corned of your eyes. He nods his head, burying his face into your shoulder as his arm around your waist tightens.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He curses, his head spinning and leaving him dizzy. Jason wanted to stay inside of you badly, the warmth of your cunt wrapping snugly around him screams nothing but heaven. And the fact that you’re already cumming on his cock before he even gets to pulled out? God, you’re just torturing him at this point. He pulled out of you right before he finishes, wet and sticky seeds shooting on your back and staining your skirt as he winces when the cold air hits his cock. “Oh my god.” His chuckle were airy, skin were slightly flushed from the lovemaking. Jason cradled you in his arms, turning you around to face him before placing you on top of his bike.

”You okay?” He asked, softly massaging your inner thighs. His forehead presses against yours, his gaze softened at the sight of you looking back at him with tired eyes. “Yep.” Your answer were short as you steadied your breathing, your arms wrapped around his neck to pulled him closer while Jason fixes your clothes.

”Wanna go rest at my place?”

The both of you stared at each other for a solid minute. You give him a small nod.

“That’s my girl.”

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY.

[brynn-lear]

Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

Prev || Next

When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s. 

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor. 

A proper arms race. 

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?" 

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes. 

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"████████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

[shalomniscient]

i need kafhime to take turns in fucking me until i can’t think of anything but their cocks/straps pounding into me😞

[nsft utc]

himeko is normally a lot gentler. sweeter. she prefers to take it slow, to dot kisses like constellations on your soft skin as she slowly coaxes you open around her strap. she likes watching you accomodate, the pleased flutter of your lashes as pleasure blooms through your limbs like a rosy dawn. she likes a more languid pace, trading speed for depth, ensuring the tip of her strap kisses the spot right below your cervix with every drive. himeko likes to kiss you as you moan and mewl for her, your legs wrapped around her waist as you clutch onto her broad shoulders. she likes to be gentle with you, to treat you with the reverence you deserve.

himeko usually likes to go slow—until kafka shows up.

the stellaron hunter has an uncanny ability to slither beneath himeko’s skin, especially with how ruthlessly she fucks you. kafka is the antithesis of everything himeko is; kafka likes to go fast and go hard. kafka doesn’t wait for you to get used to the size of her thick strap, setting an unforgiving pace right from the start and delighting in the way you scream for her. kafka doesn’t cradle you in her arms and call you sweet things, she pushes your head down into the mattress with one hand and lifts your hips with the other while she calls you her darling, filthy little whore.

and you like it.

himeko knows you like how she fucks you too—she’s made you squirt just like kafka has, made you brainless on her cock like kafka has, but something about the hunter’s stupid smug smirk as makes you see stars has himeko’s blood boiling. hence why she now has you on all fours on the bed as she fucks into you with harsh thrusts, all while kafka watches on from the side of the bed, amused.

“go harder, ‘meko,” she croons, gloved fingers reaching out to caress your cheek, “she can take it.” you pant and moan against the hunter’s hand, and himeko scowls as she drives in particularly hard on the next thrust, earning a pleased cry from your lips.

“don’t tell me what to do,” she huffs, and kafka laughs, unbothered by himeko’s sharp tone. her eyes settle down on you instead, at the way your arms tremble from the effort of holding yourself up as himeko fills you over and over again. kafka kneels on the bed before you, the deep burgundy of her own strap stark against her milky skin. it’s shiny in the low light, covered in the slick of your previous orgasm that she had wrung out of you with nothing short of a virtuoso’s touch. she tilts your chin up, barely supressing a shiver of pure lust as she notes the nearly fucked-out look in your eyes. she rests the tip of her cock on your cheek, idly shifting her hips to drag the tip from your cheekbone to the corner of your mouth, smearing your face with your own cum like some poor imitation of a caress. you shiver at the act, pussy squeezing around himeko’s strap, and the navigator sucks in a breath as she notes the way more pearls of your gossamer slick drip out of you to coat the base of her strap.

“say, himeko,” kafka asks casually, her thumb swiping over your lips before slipping inside to press on your tongue, “how about a little competition? let’s see who’s really the best at making our pretty girl cum herself stupid.”

you moan around kafka’s finger as you suck on it, and himeko chews the inside of her cheek. she’s half tempted to refuse; she doesn’t need to prove herself to kafka at all, she knows that, but there’s a competitive streak that burns deep within her and it has her agreeing maybe a little too fast. in any case, it’ll be enjoyable regardless, in the end. and if she does in fact ‘win’ this little competition, she gets the added bonus of rubbing it in kafka’s face.

“fine,” she says, almost petulantly, and kafka grins. “but no spirit whisper.”

kafka rolls her eyes and leans back on the bed, fingers winding in your hair to guide your lips to the tip of her cock. “don’t worry little miss navigator, i won’t need it.” her gaze flicks down to you, dark and dangerous as you slowly take her strap into your mouth. “isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

kafka and himeko take turns fucking your cunt and your mouth, until your brain turns to mush in your skull. kafka pulls you up as she fucks you from behind, her fingers playing your stiff clit like she plays her violin. then himeko has you ride her strap, coaxing you up and down its length as she presses her hand flat against the bulge in your tummy. it goes on and ok until at one point, kafka is balls deep inside you while himeko braces your body from behind, her fingers toying with your kiss-swollen nipples when your safeword falls from your lips in between stuttering gasps of air. kafka stills immediately, and himeko’s hands go to your waist, petting you soothingly. despite their competitive streak, they treat you as if you’re made of porcelain now. kafka even whispers a few sweet words into your ear as you lay down in himeko’s arms. it doesn’t take long for you to drift off, tired as you are.

it’s such a shame their competition ended in a tie. but that’s fine; you’ll happily agree to have a do-over later so they can finally crown a winner, won’t you?

[classypauli]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹’𝑺 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

Part 2

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!Reader

Summary: After so long Tara finally meets you again... only this time a little drunk.

Word count: 3k

It has now been a couple of weeks since visiting the hospital. People would think that Tara has already forgotten about what happened but the opposite is true. In those weeks there wasn´t a day she would not think about you. Her mind was repeating what happened and everytime a smile grew on her face. Mindy and Chad started to make fun of her, saying she looked like a kid first time having a crush. She doesn´t care.

Tara wanted to see you, so badly. She started thinking about how to get to see you again, like she would play another attack and go to the hospital, which to be honest was too cruel, or she would just go there and act like she had some examination and suddenly she saw you start to talk with you, then you would ask her to go on a date with her, you would start dating and-

God, she needs to stop. Young Carpenter sighed and put her head on the table. The voice of her professor was muted in her ears, today she felt like sleeping, just laying in her bed all day doing nothing. It was friday and she promised to go to some party. Mindy has been talking about it forever.

„Mindy I´m not in a mood right now.“ The girl turned her forehead against the table.

„I didn´t even say anything!“ Mindy scanned the shorter girl, looking for any signs of sickness. „You don´t feel good?“ she asked now with a normal tone. Tara shook her head.

„Well then we should probably call some doctor, who knows, maybe they will help you.“ Tara punched the girl beside her, making an angry noise from being teased on.

„Who does he think he is?!“ Tara was angry. They were currently at the party Mindy talked about. Everything was fine at first, everyone was minding their business, and they danced and drank, talked and joked around. It was so much fun.

But that fun soon disturbed that idiot Frankie. He was being himself of course and was trying to get with every girl there, including Tara. But the girl wasn´t in the mood for his stupid games. At first, she ignored him but as soon as he was touchy and started grabbing her to go upstairs, she became furious.

She yelled at him so hard the boy even flinched, wasn´t expecting this behavior from a sweet girl like Tara. Yeah, like she was some easy prey. He then became angry and embarrassed but knowing a lot of people were around him he couldn´t do anything.

„He is a prick Tara forget about him.“ Mindy was standing beside her watching as her friend was getting more alcohol into her cup. Tara wasn´t really drunk, yet at least. And after this incident, she just wanted to get alcohol into her system to forget about his ugly ass face.

„Like...“ the short girl let out and furious sigh out of her lips. „he is such a fucking idiot I´m surprised no girl has punched him yet.“ Tara shook her head at the bitter taste as the alcohol touched her tongue. Maybe she will be first.

„Oh! And on top of that-“

„Tara.“ Mindy said from her side but she only continued, she didn´t even notice the hand of her on her right shoulder.

„-he even-„

„Tara.“ Mindy said a little louder through the loud music that was playing in the house.

„Fuck Mindy what!“ Tara looked at her friend, raising her voice a little. She wasn´t angry at her, of course not and Mindy also knew that, but Tara had a short temper.

„Apollo at 9 o´clock.“

Tara turned pale. Her eyes widen and her body becomes stiff. She felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. What did she say? No, that can´t be. The only person they were calling Apollo was...

„Tara fucking turn around.“ Mindy said between her clenched teeth as she kept looking at the way she told her to look at.

Tara took a big breath trying to calm her beating heart and shot her eyes to the left. There was a group of friends chatting and laughing, they had beers and cups in their hands as they were standing by the side of the room so as not to disturb anybody.

She scanned the group and suddenly saw the familiar figure she had been so desperate to find these past weeks. You were standing there in your civil clothes and cup in your hand. Your bright smile could be seen from every spot of the room, smiling at your friends as you were talking about something, sipping on your drink.

„Tell me I´m not crazy.“ Tara´s eyes kept looking at you as if she was afraid you would disappear again. Her chest kept rising and falling at a fast speed.

„No Tara, you´re definitely not.“ Mindy may only see you from a photo but this was definitely you. You looked far better in a person than in a photo, she must tell.

The young Carpenter turned to Mindy with wide eyes and eyebrows raised. „Oh my God! Oh my God! What do I do?!“ she quickly looked at her clothes if they looked fine. „Do I look good? I don´t have anything between my teeth?“ she smiled widely showing her teeth Mindy to check.

„Stop Tara! Calm down.“ Mindy took her shoulders to make her look at her. „Okay okay stop right now. No, you don´t have anything between your teeth. You´re fine.“

Deep and slow breaths were the next thing she needed to do or she would have another attack and that would be pretty embarrassing. It was just you. Yeah, just the cute doctor who took care of her at the hospital. Yes, only you, as if you were someone special-

Of course, you were special! To her! She wanted to impress you so badly. The girl was always thinking about the ways she would meet you again, what would she say to you, what would she be wearing, and how she would impress you... She looked like a garbage at the moment.

Today Tara didn´t give a fuck about what would her clothes be or how she would style her hair. She just wanted to have a little fun from studying and enjoy the night with her friends.

She looked at your way one more time and your eyes met. You squint your eyes at the girl as if you were trying to remember something. She quickly turned her head to Mindy, a scared look swimming in her eyes.

„Mindy. She saw me.“

„And now she´s making her way here.“

„No, that can´t be real.“

„Oh yes, it is.“

„No no no no.“ Tara shook her head to left and right trying to put herself together. She wasn´t ready to face you. This is not how she imagined your second meeting.

„Hi.“ Mindy looked at you and greeted you back. She took Tara again by her shoulders and turned her to you.

„Hi.“ The short girl said as she was now looking at your pretty eyes. You were smiling at her like you were the first time you saw each other.

„I´m sorry I didn´t wanna disturb but... I think I know you.“ You now lowered your eyebrows a bit and kept scanning Tara´s face.

What? Do you know her? Oh my God, you remember! The girl´s heart started beating in her chest as she now realized that. You wouldn´t remember if she didn´t catch your attention, right? Right?!

„Uhm... I-“

„Oh! I know! You were in a hospital! I knew you were familiar.“ You smiled widely at her, you looked happy that you could remember after all a lot of people came through your hands every day.

Tara breathed out as she looked down. „Yeah,“ she laughed „you got me.“

„Oh, you okay now? You had any complications after?“ You kept asking her as you scanned her face and body, not in a disgusting way. But let´s be honest, Tara wouldn´t mind that either.

The shorter girl smiled softly, playing with her hands as she was softly swaying her body to the sides like a small child. „No no, everything has been fine since then.“ She smiled shyly at you. „Thanks again.“. You just shook your head like she had nothing to thank for. You were just too sweet.

Mindy offered you and your group to be with them and after the introduction, some went to drink more in the kitchen or went to the dance floor. The three of you along with some of your friends were sitting on a couch in a living room with drinks in your hands, talking and laughing at others' dancing skills.

You were so friendly and your friends too, Tara was looking at you the whole time, listening carefully every time you started speaking so none of the words could slip her. The Carpenter didn´t even notice how much alcohol she drank, guess it was because of the stress from your presence but as soon as she stood up, she could feel everything.

Oh no. Her mind was now spinning, „I´m going to the toilet.“ Mindy offered to go with her as she saw her friend's face. She was drunk.

„Oh my God, Mindy.“ These were the first words that left her mouth as she saw herself in a mirror. Her eyes were down and her face was all sweaty from the hot room and alcohol. Tara touched her cheek at the state and turned around to her friend. „I can´t go back looking like this.“ Her mind was spinning and she barely could control her legs. „I´m so fucked up.“

Mindy was behind her smirking, leaning against the bathroom door, clearly dunk as well. „Tomorrow morning will be fun.“ She laughed to herself, eyes closed from the sharp light of the bathroom.

„Hey! Are you even listening to me?“ Tara went to her but stumbled a little. Mindy laughed at her clumsy friend. She wasn´t as drunk as Tara, she could still walk normally. The only thing she was more giggling than usual.

„Come on, it´s fine. Or do you wanna leave Y/N?“ Mindy asked Tara. „Did you forget about how you were these couple of weeks?“.

Right. She can´t do that. She needs to get your number, at least that. They went to the group again but with each step they took the alcohol in their system could be felt more and more. Tara was now so drunk that she laughed at everything she saw. The girl sat beside you again but this time a little more closer than she was before, you turned to her and smiled at her. She giggled at you as she tilted her head a little.

You could see her cheeks were red and her eyes had fallen a little. Every time she was speaking her voice was really loud and her hands were everywhere around the place, even almost smacked you but you were quick to dodge it. Yep, she was drunk.

Tara´s mobile kept vibrating a couple of times but she only ignored that. It was Sam, she was worried about her because they agreed that Tara would inform her every now and then that everything was fine. The first time you caught the notification you wanted to warn Tara about it but then you saw it.

On her wallpaper was your photo from the hospital, the one with all of your colleagues. The photo was zoomed on your smiling figure, it was so cute you wanted to laugh but you couldn´t. You didn´t want to embarrass her so you played like you didn´t see that.

„So...“ Tara hiccuped as she leaned her hand on the back of the couch behind your head. You raised your eyebrows at her as you were trying to hide the smile from how drunk and cute at the same time she was. „How old are you?“ she kept looking into your eyes as if she was trying to seduce you but was cut by a hiccup again.

Laughing at her now you answered her question. „How old do I look?“

„I don´t know, you look really young to be a doctor. You are a doctor? Or you are a student? How old are you?“ Tara squints her eyes at you. You let out a laugh as you threw your head back at her words, closing your eyes in the process.

Tara was drunk smiling at you, showing her dimples. She didn´t know why you were laughing but it was because of her so she didn´t mind. In her head it meant victory. You wiped your unexisting tears and shook your head. „You are so drunk.“

„No, I´m not! Look I can drink more!“ she went to grab a cup that was on the table in front of the couch but you were quick to take it from her hand.

„Absolutely not, you had too much already.“ Tara wanted to argue with you about it but her thoughts were cut by your touch.

„You have really pretty hands. They are much bigger than mine, look!“ she compared your hands and yes, hers were really small.

„And your fingers are so long... I wonder how it would feel inside of-“

Mindy covered her friend's mouth from beside her. She kept listening to your conversation the whole time, making sure Tara wouldn´t say or do something she would be embarrassed about the next day. Something like this.

„Okay, I think we should head home.“ Mindy wanted to pull Tara on her legs but she didn´t want to stand up and leave you. She kept pouting as she sat a little more closer to you almost sitting at your tights.

„Come on, I will go with you.“ You stood up and gently took her hands to help her on her legs. She smiled like a kid and immediately did what you wanted her to do.

 You and Mindy were taking Tara to her home. Sam was now calling Mindy asking about her sister. She had the right to be mad, she let her go to a party under the condition of her texting her if she was alright.

As you were close to the apartment door Mindy left you two so you could be alone. Tara won´t remember it but Mindy for sure will and she will make sure her friend will pay back for this.

„We are already here.“ Tara whined and turned around to look at you as you now stood in front of her door. „I don´t wanna leave you, I wanna be with you.“ The girl hugged your neck as she put her head on your chest to stare into your eyes.

You laughed at her. „Don´t worry, I´m sure we will see each other again.“

„Do you wanna come inside?“ she smirked and dragged her finger around your shoulder, tilting her head to the side softly. The young Carpenter had clearly enough for today.

„You know I can´t Tara.“ You breathe out with a kind smile on your lips.

„I love it when you call my name, it sounds so different, and also your smile and your eyes and-“

The door from her home suddenly opened and there stood Sam. The three of you kept looking at each other shocked written on your faces, waiting till someone made the first move.

„Uhm... hey I´m Y/N, I don´t know if you remember me.“ You smiled kindly at Tara´s sister. She kept studying you a little, then it hit her. Yeah, you were the one from the hospital. You helped Tara and that was all she needed to know.

„Yeah, I remember.“ She then looked at her sister, slowly shaking her head. Tara´s arms were still around you, not caring that her sister could see everything. „Come on Tara.“

The short girl let out a whine not wanting to let you go. She tightened her grip on you and was now looking at you to save her from her angry sister. „You need to let go of me.“ Your voice was so soft, it was only convincing her to stay but your words said otherwise and she needed to listen to you.

Slowly pulling away from and with a point on her lips, eyes big as if you were saying that you will never see her again. You didn´t even leave and she missed you already. The girl just wanted to stay with you.

„Will I see you again?“ Tara asked as she was almost at her apartment looking for your answer. You nodded your head at her, shooting her one of your smiles with a wink.

„Okay... Goodnight.“ She said with a low voice, putting her head down and leaving you in a hallway. Sam turned to you and gave you a tight-lipped smile.

„Thanks for bringing her here.“

„It´s fine, she´s amazing.“ You looked from the way she disappeared to Sam. „I guess I will head home also. Goodnight.“ You waved at her and started to walk away.

The next morning couldn´t be worse. Tara woke up with a terrible headache and the urge to throw up, Sam was giving her silent treatment, Mindy kept teasing her about yesterday and she had no way of contacting you. Like she would do that, the girl was so embarrassed that she just wanted to bury herself deep into the ground.

Afternoon Mindy and Chad came, and they kept making fun of Tara and her flirting skills. Suddenly her phone rang signaling a new message.

Y/N:) :Heyy, hope you feel better

What? How did you get her number? It was really you?

„Mindy? How did you get Y/N´s contact into my phone?“ Her friend looked at her with a confused face. „Did you give her my number?“ Mindy shook her head, still looking muddled.

„Maybe she did it herself.“ She shrugged her shoulders. „At least you have her number finally!“

Yeah, at least something but when did you make it? Oh yeah, she probably left her phone on the couch when she went to the bathroom. But if you got your phone number into her phone that must mean...

„Oh God... please no.“ She put her head into her hands, covering her red face from embarrassment.

You saw that fucking wallpaper.

Taglist: @jensortega813 @isawxxp 🤍

[tfgalore]

SwapCorp: Theo

Most people didn’t believe in swaps. Theo was among the many who thought that SwapCorp, a new company claiming to be able to transfer people’s consciousness across bodies, was a complete hoax. But that didn’t stop him from hearing about it daily. Even as he finished up his pull-ups at the gym, the TV that sat in the corner was blaring out some news about it. They were mainly criticisms of the companies shadier transactions and an investigation into where exactly SwapCorp got the young, youthful hunks it seemed to specialise in. There were even reports of criminals using the bodies to get a fresh start.

Theo shrugged it off though. That will never happen to me, he thought to himself, happy to keep pumping iron. Little did Theo know, SwapCorp’s nefarious intentions was going to hit a lot closer to home than he thought.

The hunk had forgotten all about SwapCorp on his walk home. A silent midnight, with nobody around. The perfect spot for a kidnapping. It was faster than Theo could realise. There was rush of footsteps behind him, and a sudden sting in his neck before he could even turn.

“Hey! What the hell?” Theo whipped around to see a thick, burly figure standing in front of him. He couldn’t make out the man’s face though. Like the rest of his world, the man’s face swirled into a mix of colours. The fast acting drugs already coursed through Theo, knocking the jock unconscious within seconds.

“Target acquired. Preparing for transport.” The words echoed through Theo’s head, seconds before he passed out.

The next time Theo awoke, the damage had already been done. His bones ached. His muscles felt pathetically weak. It took all of his strength to even sit up. His palms spread out across the soft sheets he laid in, and that’s when Theo got his first shock. The back of his hands were wrinkled, the skin looked more like aged parchment compared to the usual veiny and toned hands he sported.

“What the-“ Theo croaked on a voice he didn’t recognize. It was grained and higher pitched, nothing like the sultry, treble tone that he’d used to seduce plenty of girls in the past. His first instinct was to shoot out of bed and find out what was going on, yet everything ached again as he tried to move. His knees felt like they were on the verge of giving out.

Theo’s eyes darted across the room, looking for clues. He seemed to be in a bedroom. An old, well furnished room that reminded him of his past childhood home even. Theo’s eyes brushed across the mirror. And then they shot back. Where he expected to see himself in bed, there was a 50 year old male looking back. He wore the same shocked expression Theo was making.

“Who are you?” Theo yelled. The man yelled too. That’s when it hit Theo. The man in the mirror was him! Somehow, he had aged 30+ years. Gone was his youthful and stunning features, worn away by age. He looked too different to be himself though, Theo recognised. He brought trembling hand up to his head. There were signs of balding, his hair was a snow-white instead of his usual coiffed and rugged black.

This has to be a dream! There was no way that could be him! Theo’s mind raced with rationalisations. Maybe he’d worked too hard at the gym and caused himself to pass out. Resulting in this crazy fever dream…

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” The voice snapped Theo out of his stupor. A man in a business suit walked in. And right on his heels, Theo entered next! Or at least, Theo’s body did. It was a mindfuck for the jock to see his own cocky smirk staring back at him. Whoever it was, was wearing a sleeveless tanktop, and was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s going on here!? Where the fuck am I?!” Theo yelled, which came out in a course and croaky tone. Even his vocal cords sounded aged.

“Mr Stone, please take it easy. You need rest after the procedure, especially in your current state and age.” The man donning the suit put up his hands placatingly.

“I’ll take it easy when you explain what is happening! How am I in someone else’s body! And who’s in mine!?” Theo could feel his breath wheezing. Not only was he old, this body he was in was wildly unfit!

“Your body has been paid for by Mr Woods, here. Thanks to a large donation and help getting the authorities off our back, Mr Woods is currently the sole proprietor of one Theo Stone.” The man explained.

Theo was stunned. Some proprietor!? This wasn’t some piece of estate or a patent they were talking about! This was his damn body! And yet, he wasn’t even in it. The man continued before Theo could speak. “There is no chance for you to bring this up to the cops. After all, who is to believe you when Mr Theo Stone himself will be denying these accusations.” The man gestured to “Theo” who had been quiet until then. “You will be given help adjusting to your new life, and we urge you to accept these changes.”

Theo wanted to scream, kick and punch. But his frail body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sat in disbelief, watching as his former body, now held by a pervy old man, began to flex. The real Mr Woods seemed perfectly content with his renewed youth. Watching Theo’s muscles ripple and flex in the mirror at his command brought a wide grin to his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take great care of this body. Promise.” Woods said with yet another smirk…

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the swap. Mr Woods had grown perfectly accustomed to his new life as Theo. In fact, plenty of people in his life saw the changes. In their eyes, the previously homophobic jock had taken a full 180. From having a different girl in his bed each night, Theo was now hooking up with hunks and twinks left and right. Every gay bar in the city knew his name. “Take it off Theo” they called him, thanks to his proclivity to strip off and flex for fun in the clubs and bars. Of course, the managers never did mind. It was just more good business for them when the hunk pulled in desperate and horny guys.

Even at the gym, Theo got plenty of action. His clothes got tighter and tighter over the weeks, his bubble butt on full display under the 5 inch shorts he’d switched to in place of the usual grey sweatpants he used to wear. Hunks seemed to love it, plenty of them pulling Theo aside in the locker room to give his bubble butt a few swats before giving him a raunchy fuck in the locker room.

Theo loved it all of course. And to make matters worse, he’d dropped out of college. He wasn’t going to waste his second chance at life on something he’d already gone through once before. Instead, the new Theo decided modelling was his calling. After all, with a body like his, recruiters were practically lined up for him.

That was the only morsel of his old life that Theo got. Now left alone in an old age home affiliated with SwapCorp, the real Theo could only watch his old body through the pics and vids posted on his Instagram and his modelling gigs. Each time, he’d sigh as he felt his heart break at what he’d lost. Nobody had listened to his deranged ranting about forcibly being swapped. After all, most people believed it was SwapCorp was a hoax…

[bratzkoo]

still the one | joshua hong

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: exes! joshua x reader Genre: fluff, semi-angst Rating: PG-15 Word count: 4.8k~ Warnings/note: i just want joshua to do something very loser of him just to get his ex back.

summary: 5 years after your break up, Joshua tries his best to get your attention. May it be creating a new instagram to get you to notice him, making your brother (Seungkwan) secretly invite him to his birthday party, and his latest act: begging you on his knees in front of your door to get him back. He just never gives up!

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

You didn’t really see it coming.

The autumn breeze carried a hint of crisp possibility as you walked through the park, fallen leaves crunching satisfyingly beneath your feet. Life was good – you had a successful career that challenged and fulfilled you, a cozy apartment in the heart of the city, and a circle of friends who filled your days with laughter and your nights with adventure.

As you strolled along the winding path, you couldn't help but smile at the scenes around you. Couples walked hand in hand, their heads bent close in conversation. Families spread out on checkered blankets, enjoying impromptu picnics in the fading warmth of the season. A group of friends tossed a frisbee, their shouts and laughter carrying on the wind.

You paused for a moment, tilting your face up to catch the last rays of the setting sun. Contentment washed over you, a feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, likely Ranee confirming plans for your weekly wine and movie night. Life had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, one that you'd worked hard to create and maintain.

Little did you know that this carefully constructed peace was about to be shaken to its core. As you reached for your phone, you were blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing, of the persistent force that was about to re-enter your life and turn everything upside down.

Somewhere across the city, Joshua Hong was steeling his nerves, his finger hovering over the 'Create Account' button on Instagram. He'd spent weeks crafting the perfect username, carefully selecting photos, and writing and rewriting his bio. Now, with a deep breath and a silent prayer, he was about to take the first step in his plan to win you back.

But for now, in this moment, you were simply enjoying the park, the autumn day, and the life you'd built for yourself. The future, with all its unexpected twists and turns, could wait.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your reverie. A notification from Instagram – a new follow request. Your breath caught as you read the username: J_Hong_1996. It couldn't be... could it?

With trembling fingers, you tapped on the profile. The photos were sparse, but unmistakable. Joshua, looking older but still achingly familiar, in various locations around the city. Your city. He was back.

For a moment, you considered hitting the 'Decline' button, shutting this unexpected door before it could fully open. But curiosity – or perhaps something deeper – made you hesitate. Before you could overthink it, you hit 'Accept', telling yourself it was just to see what he was up to.

Within minutes, your phone buzzed again. A direct message.

"(Y/N), I know it's been a long time, but I'm back in town. Can we talk?"

You stared at the message, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Anger at his presumption, hurt that still lingered after all these years, and underneath it all, a traitorous flicker of... what? Hope? Longing? You shook your head, banishing the thought.

Days passed, and more messages followed, each one a little more desperate than the last.

"I understand if you're angry. I just want a chance to explain."

"I've missed you every day for the past five years. Please, just five minutes of your time."

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to earn it."

You continued to ignore them, hoping he'd take the hint. But Joshua, it seemed, was nothing if not persistent.

A week after the first Instagram request, your brother Seungkwan called. His voice was suspiciously casual as he said, "Hey, sis! Just finalizing plans for my birthday party next weekend. You're coming, right?"

"Of course," you replied, a smile in your voice despite your turbulent thoughts. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great!" Seungkwan said, a little too enthusiastically. There was a pause, and then, "Oh, and, uh, just so you know... Joshua might be there. He reached out, said he was back in town and wanted to reconnect with old friends. I hope that's okay?"

Your grip tightened on the phone, knuckles turning white. "Seungkwan," you said, your voice dangerously calm, "did he put you up to this?"

Your brother's guilty silence was all the answer you needed. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It's fine. It's your party. Invite whoever you want."

As you ended the call, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being maneuvered into a confrontation you weren't sure you were ready for.

The night of Seungkwan's party arrived, crisp and clear. You'd spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing your outfit – a sleek black dress that hugged your curves, paired with your favorite heels. You told yourself it was for your own confidence, not for any other reason.

The moment you stepped into the crowded apartment, you felt his presence. It was like a sixth sense, your body attuned to his proximity even after all these years. You scanned the room, your heart racing, but there was no sign of him.

For the first hour, you managed to avoid him, sticking close to your friends and keeping your eyes averted from the door. But as you stepped out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air, you heard his voice behind you.

"(Y/N)."

You turned slowly, steeling yourself. And there he was. Joshua. Five years older, a touch of silver at his temples, but still devastatingly handsome. His eyes, those warm brown eyes that had once looked at you with such love, now held a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"Hello, Joshua," you said, proud of how steady your voice sounded.

He took a step closer, and you fought the urge to back away. "Thank you for not running away," he said softly. "I wasn't sure you'd even talk to me."

"I'm here for Seungkwan," you replied, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary. "This isn't about you."

Joshua nodded, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. "I know. But I'm hoping... maybe we could talk? Just for a few minutes?"

You sighed, looking out over the city skyline. "What is there to talk about, Joshua? It's been five years. We've both moved on."

"Have we?" he asked, moving to stand beside you at the railing. "Because I haven't. Not really."

You turned to face him, anger bubbling up inside you. "And whose fault is that? You're the one who left, remember? You don't get to come back after five years and act like nothing's changed."

"I know," Joshua said, his voice thick with regret. "I know I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I've regretted leaving every day for the past five years. You're all I think about, (Y/N). I made the biggest mistake of my life walking away from us, and I'm hoping... I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to make it right."

You shook your head, stepping away from him. "It's too late for that, Joshua. We can't go back."

As you walked away, leaving him alone on the balcony, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. You were right.

For weeks after the party, Joshua's attempts to reach you intensified. It started with flowers delivered to your office – a stunning bouquet of your favorite blooms. Your coworkers cooed and speculated, but you simply moved them to the break room, ignoring the card that bore his familiar handwriting.

Next came the letters. Handwritten pages that showed up in your mailbox, pouring out his heart, explaining his actions, and begging for another chance. You told yourself you were going to throw them away unread, but each night found you poring over his words, tears staining the pages.

Then there was the singing telegram – a mortifying experience that left your entire office buzzing with gossip. As the poor college student in a ridiculous costume belted out a heartfelt rendition of "your song," you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Each gesture chipped away at your resolve, even as you tried to maintain your distance. You found yourself lying awake at night, memories of your time together playing on an endless loop. The good times – lazy Sunday mornings tangled in bed, surprise picnics in the park, the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in the world. But also the bad – the fights that grew more frequent towards the end, the distance that had grown between you, the day he'd walked out with nothing but a suitcase and a broken promise.

Your friends were divided on the issue. Ranee, ever the romantic, thought you should hear him out. "People change, (Y/N)," she'd say over wine and takeout. "Maybe he really has grown up. Don't you owe it to yourself to at least listen?"

But Jihoon, who'd seen you through the worst of the breakup, was adamantly against it. "He had his chance," he'd argue, eyes flashing with protective anger. "He doesn't get to waltz back in and disrupt your life just because he's decided he made a mistake."

You appreciated their concern, but in the end, you knew the decision had to be yours. And despite your best efforts to stay strong, to remember the pain he'd caused, you could feel your resolve weakening.

Then came the night that changed everything.

You were settling in for a quiet evening at home, a glass of wine in hand and your favorite movie queued up, when a commotion outside your apartment door caught your attention. Frowning, you muted the TV and approached cautiously, peering through the peephole.

Your heart nearly stopped at what you saw.

Joshua was on his knees in the hallway, a bouquet of your favorite flowers clutched in his hands. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at your door, unaware that you were watching. His voice, muffled but clear, carried through the wood.

"(Y/N), please. I know you're in there. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm begging you to give me a chance."

You pressed your forehead against the door, closing your eyes as his words washed over you.

"I was stupid for letting you go, and I've spent every day since then regretting it. You're still the one for me, (Y/N). You've always been the one. I'll do anything to prove it to you. Please, just open the door."

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he must be able to hear it. Five years of hurt, of carefully rebuilding your life, warred against the undeniable pull you still felt towards him.

"I'm not giving up," Joshua continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'll stay here all night if I have to. I'll come back every day until you're ready to talk to me. Because I know, deep down, that we're meant to be together. Please, (Y/N). Just give me one more chance."

You leaned back against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. Memories flooded your mind – the day you met, your first kiss, the night he told you he loved you. But also the fights, the growing distance, the day he'd walked out. You'd worked so hard to move on, to build a life without him. Could you really risk opening that door again?

As if he could sense your indecision, Joshua's pleas grew more urgent. "I know I hurt you. I know I left you alone, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that. But being back here, being close to you again... it's made me realize that you're still the one for me. You always have been."

You found yourself standing, drawn to his voice like a magnet. Your hand reached for the doorknob of its own accord.

"I've tried to start again, to find somebody else," Joshua continued, unaware of your internal struggle. "But I can't get you out of my head. The memories, the things we said to each other... they're always there. I can't move on, (Y/N). Not without knowing I did everything I could to make things right between us."

With a shaky breath, you turned the knob. As you slowly opened the door, Joshua's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of hope and fear. He scrambled to his feet, the flowers clutched tightly in his hand.

"You have five minutes," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "After that, if I tell you to leave, you go. And you don't come back. Understood?"

Joshua nodded eagerly, relief washing over his features. "Thank you, (Y/N). That's all I'm asking for. A chance to explain, to show you how much you mean to me."

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As he passed, his familiar scent – a mix of cologne and something uniquely him – enveloped you, bringing with it a rush of memories. You closed the door and turned to face him, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

"Talk," you said simply.

Joshua took a deep breath, setting the flowers on a nearby table. "First, I want to say how sorry I am. Not just for leaving, but for how I handled everything leading up to it. I was young and stupid and scared of the intensity of what I felt for you. Instead of talking to you about my fears, I pushed you away. I convinced myself that leaving was the right thing to do, that we'd both be better off. But I was wrong. So incredibly wrong."

You remained silent, watching him carefully. Joshua ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you remembered all too well.

"These past five years have been... empty," he continued. "I threw myself into my work, traveled, tried to convince myself I was living this great, exciting life. But nothing felt right. Nothing felt like home. Because home was always with you, (Y/N)."

"Why now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why come back after all this time?"

Joshua's eyes met yours, filled with a sincerity that made your heart ache. "Because I finally realized what an idiot I'd been. Because the thought of going another day without you in my life was unbearable. I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, let alone a second chance. But I had to try. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least tell you how I feel."

You turned away, moving to the window to look out at the city lights. "And how do you feel, Joshua?"

You heard him step closer, though he didn't touch you. "I love you, (Y/N). I never stopped loving you. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep. Every good thing that happens, I want to share with you. Every bad day, I wish you were there to make it better. You're it for me. You're the one."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you blinked them back furiously. "Love isn't always enough, Joshua. You proved that when you walked out five years ago."

"I know," he said softly. "But I've changed. I've grown up. I know now that love isn't just a feeling – it's a choice. And I choose you, (Y/N). I'll choose you every day for the rest of my life if you'll let me."

You turned to face him, taking in the earnest expression on his face, the love and hope shining in his eyes. "And what if I say no? What if I tell you to leave and never come back?"

Pain flashed across Joshua's features, but he stood his ground. "Then I'll respect your decision. It'll break my heart, but I'll go. Because more than anything, I want you to be happy. Even if that happiness doesn't include me."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and possibility. You found yourself at a crossroads, the path forward unclear. On one side lay the safety of the life you'd built without him – predictable, stable, but tinged with a loneliness you'd never quite been able to shake. On the other, the unknown – the risk of heartbreak, but also the potential for a love deeper and stronger than before.

"I can't..." you started, your voice breaking. You took a deep breath and tried again. "I can't just forget everything that happened, Joshua. The pain, the years of trying to move on... it's not that simple."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know. I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking for a chance to make new memories, better ones. To show you every day how much you mean to me, how sorry I am for the pain I caused."

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through you. When you opened them again, Joshua was still there, waiting patiently, hope etched in every line of his face.

"I can't promise you anything," you said finally. "I don't know if I can trust you again, or if I even want to try. But..." you paused, hardly believing the words about to leave your mouth, "I'm willing to listen. To take things slowly and see where they lead."

The smile that lit up Joshua's face was like the sun breaking through clouds. "That's more than I could have hoped for," he said softly. "Thank you, (Y/N). I promise you won't regret this."

As he turned to leave, pausing at the door to look back at you with eyes full of renewed determination, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were standing on the precipice of something monumental. Whether it was the beginning of a new chapter or the final closing of an old one remained to be seen. But one thing was certain – Joshua's persistence had finally broken through your defenses, and now, for better or worse, you were embarking on a journey neither of you could have anticipated.

The door closed behind him, and you sank onto your couch, emotions swirling within you. You picked up your phone, needing to talk to someone who could offer an outside perspective. Ranee answered on the second ring.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I think I'm in trouble," you said, your voice shaky. "Joshua... he was just here. On his knees in the in the hallway," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "Begging me to give him another chance."

Ranee gasped. "Oh my god, (Y/N). What did you do?"

You closed your eyes, still hardly believing it yourself. "I... I let him in. We talked."

"And?" Ranee pressed, her voice a mixture of concern and excitement.

"And... I told him I'd be willing to listen. To take things slowly." You let out a shaky breath. "Ranee, what am I doing? Am I crazy for even considering this?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. When Ranee spoke again, her voice was gentle. "You're not crazy, (Y/N). You're human. And whether you want to admit it or not, Joshua was a huge part of your life. It's natural to have conflicting feelings."

"But what if I'm making a huge mistake?" you asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you since Joshua left. "What if he hurts me again?"

"That's always a risk in any relationship," Ranee pointed out. "But let me ask you this – do you think you'd regret it more if you gave him a chance and it didn't work out, or if you turned him away without ever knowing what could have been?"

Her question gave you pause. You thought about the past five years, about the life you'd built for yourself. It was a good life, comfortable and safe. But there had always been something missing, a void you'd never quite been able to fill.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I just... I'm scared, Ranee. I worked so hard to move on, to be okay without him. What if letting him back in undoes all of that?"

"Then you'll pick yourself up and move on again," Ranee said firmly. "But this time, you'll do it knowing you gave it your all. No what-ifs, no regrets."

After hanging up with Ranee, you sat in the quiet of your apartment, mulling over her words. Your eyes fell on the bouquet Joshua had brought, still sitting on the table where he'd left it. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at your lips. He'd remembered your favorite flowers after all these years.

Your phone buzzed with a text:

From Joshua: "Thank you again for giving me a chance to explain. I meant every word I said tonight. I'll wait as long as it takes. You're still the one, (Y/N). Always."

You stared at the message, your heart racing. Slowly, you typed out a reply:

To Joshua: "I meant what I said too. Slow. I need time to process all of this."

His response came almost immediately:

From Joshua: "Of course. We'll go at whatever pace you're comfortable with. I'm just grateful for the opportunity. Sleep well, (Y/N)."

As you got ready for bed that night, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Part of you was terrified of the vulnerability that came with opening your heart again. But another part, a part that had been dormant for far too long, felt a flicker of excitement at the possibility of reconnecting with Joshua.

The next few weeks were a delicate dance of tentative steps forward and cautious retreats. True to his word, Joshua respected your need for space, never pushing for more than you were ready to give. Your interactions started small – text messages exchanged throughout the day, brief phone calls that gradually grew longer.

Then came the coffee dates. The first one was awkward, both of you unsure of how to act around each other after so much time apart. But as the weeks went by, you found yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm. You talked about your lives over the past five years – your career advancements, his travels, the lessons you'd both learned.

One afternoon, as you sat across from Joshua in your favorite café, he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Nothing, I just... I can't believe I'm here with you. There were so many times over the past five years when I thought I'd lost this chance forever."

You felt a familiar pang in your chest – a mixture of old hurt and new hope. "Joshua..."

"I know," he said quickly. "I know we're taking things slow. And I respect that. I just want you to know how grateful I am for every moment I get to spend with you."

His sincerity was almost overwhelming. You found yourself reaching across the table, your hand covering his. It was the first time you'd initiated physical contact since he'd come back into your life, and you felt him tense in surprise before relaxing into your touch.

"I'm grateful too," you admitted softly. "I won't lie – there's still a part of me that's scared. That's waiting for the other shoe to drop. But... I'm glad we're doing this. Whatever 'this' is."

Joshua turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours. "It's whatever you want it to be, (Y/N). I'm here for as long as you'll have me."

As the weeks turned into months, you found yourself slowly letting your guard down. The walls you'd built around your heart began to crumble, brick by brick. Joshua was patient, attentive, and consistently present in a way he hadn't been towards the end of your relationship five years ago.

But it wasn't all smooth sailing. There were moments of doubt, of old hurts resurfacing. Arguments where past grievances bubbled up, threatening to derail the progress you'd made. But unlike before, you both made a conscious effort to communicate, to work through your issues rather than letting them fester.

It was during one of these conversations, late one night as you walked through the park where you'd first met, that Joshua stopped suddenly, turning to face you.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice serious. "I need you to know something."

You felt your heart rate quicken, a mix of anticipation and anxiety coursing through you. "What is it?"

Joshua took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know we've been taking things slow, and I respect that. But I want to be clear about where I stand. I love you. I'm in love with you. And if you'll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you every single day."

You felt tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words and the emotion behind them. For a moment, you were transported back in time – to the day he'd first told you he loved you, to all the dreams and plans you'd made together. But this time, instead of fear or doubt, you felt a sense of certainty wash over you.

"Joshua," you said softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I love you too. I think... I think I always have, even when I was trying so hard not to."

The smile that lit up his face was brighter than any you'd ever seen. He pulled you close, his forehead resting against yours. "So where do we go from here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, your heart full of hope and possibility. "Forward," you said simply. "Together."

As Joshua's lips met yours in a kiss that felt both familiar and thrillingly new, you knew that this was just the beginning. There would be challenges ahead, old wounds to heal, and new obstacles to overcome. But for the first time in five years, you felt truly, completely whole.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. A whirlwind of emotions coursed through you – love, frustration, happiness, and a touch of amused exasperation. Joshua's persistence had not only won him a second chance but had also reignited a love that had never truly died. As you stood there, hand in hand in the park where your story began, the future stretching out before you, a realization hit you.

"DAMN YOU, JOSHUA HONG!" you exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise.

His eyes widened, a mix of confusion and concern crossing his face. "What? What's wrong?"

But before he could say anything else, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close again. "Damn you and your persistence," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips despite your words. "Making me fall in love with you all over again."

Relief and joy flooded Joshua's features as he understood. "I told you I wouldn't give up," he said softly, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Well, congratulations," you replied, your tone a mixture of sarcasm and genuine affection. "You win. Are you happy now?"

The smile that lit up Joshua's face was answer enough, but he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Happier than I've ever been."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you pulled him in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. As you lost yourself in the moment, you realized that sometimes, the most beautiful love stories are the ones that withstand the test of time and separation, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever before – even if they require a little (or a lot) of persistence along the way.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, you couldn't help but laugh. "You know," you said, intertwining your fingers with his, "if you ever pull a disappearing act like that again, I'll hunt you down myself."

Joshua grinned, bringing your joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Noted. Though I have to say, I kind of like this feisty side of you."

"Oh, you haven't seen feisty yet, Hong," you retorted, but your eyes were sparkling with happiness.

And if this man ever forget how lucky he is? Well, you'd be more than happy to remind him – right after you kissed him senseless, of course.

[iridescana]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚...𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𝐬𝐲𝐧. 𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 ᥫ᭡. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭. 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ༯ 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑫𝑵𝑰

...word count: 1.1k

...note from irene: don't ask.

nanami kento rests languidly on the edge of the bed, your back in his view as he graciously takes the mantle of an attentive husband.

“i literally can’t with you. you’re a natural at this stuff,” you huff, somewhere between a vent and a bout of praise that he found endearing nonetheless. he raises an eyebrow, albeit dazed by the hypnotic show of you being able to reach your own zipper - who’s a natural at what? you, who resumes your tirade with an obliviousness towards his wandering eyes, is a natural at enchanting him. your hair was blown out, almost reaching your shoulders in cloudy tufts - that had been the last mission of tonight, a hairstyle more laborious than the act of lifting weights. “you can easily get away with being stand-offish, which…i’m not saying you are but…”

he releases a soft chuckle, adjusting his cufflinks, “now, humor me for a second, my love. when have you ever seen me get defensive?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head in confusion eyeing him expectantly through your reflection as you secure your earring. 

“you don’t need to worry about insulting me, darling. i can take it. if you think i’m stand-offish, just say it.”

you briefly turn to face him, bestowing a histrionic look of indignation. “i wasn’t saying that! okay—” you raise your hands in surrender, “you are quite stoic. does that do you justice?”

he offers a hum, one of satisfaction, an invitation for you to continue to the point you had intended to make. and you do just that, bending over the vanity to apply your lip gloss as kento’s attention blithely averts to the curve of your ass. “so, yes. you could get away with what will earn me, at best, some auntie in the corner asking me if i’m okay like…please! i’m fine! i just wanna be left alone!” 

he chuckles along with you again, silently basking in your mirthful exchange… until he notices it. within seconds. the brief drag of hesitation as you began working on your hair. your makeshift puff remains put, arms raised for your hands to take the temporary role of a hair tie and…

…oh dear.

you were staring at your underarms again. in acute disdain. 

he needn’t say a word - this conundrum was as foreign to him as a blue sky. but you’ve only complained about it once, a main focus on the fruitlessness of your spending. all these regimens, remedies and receipts the length of the great wall of china for them to still be there - sizable splotches of pigmentation that you just can’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard you try.

once, you’ve verbally lamented. 

but more than once, you’d been reluctant to don anything without sleeves, participate in anything remotely related to summer - and if you did, not lifting your arms was the war you were prepared to die in. and tonight, well, you’d had the misfortune of learning life’s indifference. the thin straps of your silky, cream white dress were well in torturing you with a reminder.

a click of the tongue bounces off the walls of your bedroom, and kento tries to think less about how your beauty terrifies him, opting to soothe you with his adeptness in subtlety. 

“darling,” he begins, standing to walk towards you, “i think you should wear your hair down.”

“hm, i think so too,” you smile warmly at him through your reflection, conducting his suggestion by letting go of your hair and instead opting to comb it out, “let’s just hope it doesn’t rain tonight. i honestly don’t get the appeal of outdoor parties.”

all that follows is a soft hum, one of admiration. truly, you are an angel sent from heaven. more than just the angelic glow of your skin under the vanity light, your smile - your soul - can account for that. he watches you, deftly pulling at your coils to maintain the perfect shape - watching you fruitlessly strive to perfect the one thing that has always been just that. you. perfect.

“what?” you meekly acknowledge his stare with a shy smile, halting your movements. 

“my love,” he drags, moving close enough for his hands to reach your hips. your attention moves away from your hair, prompting you to put your comb down and heed the sensation of his chest meeting your back. kento’s hands are calculated, a dexterous trace of your curves striving for a different kind of tenor - a lead from one thing to a delectable other. he moves his lips towards your ear, hazel eyes meeting yours through the mirror in a wordless declaration of unabashed desire. “you know that every inch of you is perfect, right?”

you shiver, at your best to conceal your want to reciprocate by scoffing playfully, “fancy, i’ve never pegged you for the corny type.” 

“i mean it,” he rejoins, ignoring your jest, softly kissing the shell of your ear before he performs the unexpected, a hand moving to gently grab your wrist, lifting your arm up above your head. “every…inch.”

oh. 

he really means it.

heat rises to your cheeks, noting how observant he had been towards your behavior earlier - this wasn’t new to you. you could stain a white shirt with pasta sauce and he’d counter your dismay by saying that it should’ve been there when you first bought it. he’d praise any part of you from head to toe. that realization had been made many moons ago. now, as all attention falls upon your exposed underarm, you forgo the need to protest, keeping your arm raised and resting your hand on the back of your husband’s head, fingertips blissfully pricked by the sharpness of his undercut. 

“mmm…every inch, you say?” you murmur with feigned cynicism, a grin rising as Kento’s hand gently slides down the tricep of your raised arm. 

“mhm…every…inch” your heartbeat is the toms of an acoustic drum set, as he reaches your underarm, lightly grazing the skin with his fingertips, prompting you to shiver at the ticklish sensation. “god, you’re breathtaking…”

he breathes it out like it’s the first time, and the sight before you is…sinful? a burlesque plays out in your reflection, a hand sensually caressing your hip whilst the other continues to draw reverent patterns on the area you’ve detested for eons. your husband, so fucking handsome, buries his face in crook of your neck, inspiring every last bit of your scent, and you still can’t help but huff in amusement, “hm, my black armpits were the ones to bring you to that revelation?”

“you amuse me, my love,” is the muffled, half dismissal towards your counter, followed by a kiss on your neck, “now, let me enjoy you.”

you giggle softly, meek at how your husband's brief praise towards your underarm has ever so slightly titillated you, “we’re gonna be late, you know…”

he perks up, privy to the suggestion you so dared to make, “if memory serves me correctly, it’s you who fails to see the appeal in these outdoor parties.”

[zorosangell]

zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Omfg omfg omfg omfg ggogggiffuuk. That toby x final girl reader was too good I feel like I'm floating....could you do a Jeff x final girl reader?

i hope you enjoy this! sorry if it’s too much of a long read…

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl F!Reader

summary: you had anticipated a nice road trip with your boyfriend and some friends. when you're forced to stay at a motel for the night, you wished you had stayed home.

contains: Jeff the Killer getting a little crushy wushy on you (sorry i couldn't help it LOL), good ol' slasher shenanigans, Jeff unknowingly getting revenge for you

warnings: violence, gore, NSFW (ESPECIALLY UNDER THE RED DIVIDER), masturbation, insinuation of SA (nothing explicit, but can be read that way), a knife, character deaths, horror/slasher cliches

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

a.n: y'all i did not expect the attention i would get from the toby fics. I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH!! i know most of you followed for toby, but i got a request for jeff, so here you go!

This road trip was supposed to be fun. Your boyfriend—Tony—had promised you that. He promised that you’d have a great time. He promised that he would give you all his undivided attention. He promised he’d reign in his creepy friend’s weird comments. He’d promised he wouldn’t let his anger get to him.

“Jesus, old man. Just start the pumps back—“

But said old man interrupts him. They’d been going at this for a good few minutes now. “I cannot do that. You will have to come tomorrow. There’s a nice, luxury motel my buddy runs just up the road.”

“Listen,” Tony lets out a deep breath to try and control himself before he jumps over the counter to strangle the poor man. “We’re only trying to get out of this town, man. It is just one car.”

“If I start the oil back up, I’dun have to start it up for ev’rybody,” the man shakes his head, and I know he’s itching to keep up with the Southern Hospitality act.

You start to space out, having gotten used to Tony’s temper. You just wanted to sleep, no matter where. You spin on your heel and start walking down the candy aisle. There's a buzzing sound above you and you look up to see a flickering light. You swear you can make out the black dots of bugs that are being burnt to a crisp by the blinding lights. 

You almost scream as someone jumps next to you – seemingly out of nowhere – before you realize that it’s just your friend Stephanie. “Whachu want, girl?”

“Steph—“ You whisper-yell, and the girl only giggles. You shove her lightly and turn your attention back on the rows of different sugary confections. She looks up to see Tony still arguing with the gas station attendant. 

 “How long is he gonna keep doing that?” She asks you. You shrug in response. After a few silent moments, she walks around you. “Gonna calm him down.” 

“Mhm,” you hum and pick up a bag that is interesting to you. You squeeze it for no other reason than to hear the familiar crinkle of the plastic. From the corner of your eye, you can make out a figure walking over to you. You bristle already as Don’s cologne already starts to make your eyes sting. 

“You gonna get that?” He asks you and you want to immediately punch the cocky grin off his face. 

“No, just looking,” you answer simply. You place the candy bag back in its spot and cross your arms. 

“You’re already so hostile,” he chuckles, poking your side. You take a step to the side, putting more space between you. “Dude, come on. I’m just playing.” 

Don was never “just playing.” You almost learned that the hard way. 

“I think we're almost leaving,” mumbling, you turn to leave. He scoffs and stays in his spot as you walk toward Tony. Stephanie plays idly with her hair — not helping to calm Tony in the slightest. 

You were about to respond when a man nearly slams you to the ground. You catch yourself on your boyfriend’s back, who only noticed the interaction when you bumped into him. 

 “Watch it, asshole—” he shouts. 

You snap your head in the direction of the door, but the man was already gone. The bell hanging from the door almost flew off — you only caught a glimpse of white.

“You know what? Fine.” Tony glares at the worker. “Let’s just go to this shitty-ass motel and sleep with bed bugs, guys. Thanks for nothing, motherfucker.”

Stephanie and Don snicker, and your face burns from embarrassment.

“Luxury motel” my ass, you thought. This place was the dingiest shit hole you’d ever seen. It was a classic two-story nightmare that you would see in a horror movie. There was only one other car but yours, and you could see the grime on the walls from the car. The rust that clung to the metal railings on the upper level streaked down like old bloodstains. Half of the lights on the neon sign that perched from the roof were dead — making it read as “Mo.” But there was nothing your group could do tonight. There was only enough gas to drive back to the gas station tomorrow.

After securing the rooms — and Tony weirdly insisting that you and him have a room upstairs while your friends were downstairs — you all decided to head to the pool. That was the most normal your group had ever been in a while. You played around with them as they splashed water on each other, and Tony even got a little clingy. You missed that feeling of his body enveloping yours in his warmth – and not just for sex.

“I am so tired,” Stephanie exclaims as she climbs out of the pool. You follow behind her and grab your towel. Stephanie pauses and turns to look at you. “Hey, have you guys seen my key?”

“Didn’t you bring it?” You tilt your head to the side, wrapping your towel around you.

“I thought I did. Where the fuck—did one of you guys take it?” She looks over your shoulder to look at the two men. They only shook their heads. “Ugh. Guess I have to talk to that weirdo at the front desk. What was this name again? Miles? Mickey?”

“Micheal,” you correct her, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “Micheal Myers.”

As you walk back upstairs to your room, you can’t help but walk a little closer to Tony. You felt shiver spreading like ice under your skin. An invisible force made you feel heavier, as if someone’s eyes were pressing into your back. The prickling sensation of the hairs on your body raising caused you to turn your head to look behind your shoulder.

“Scared?” The sound of your boyfriend’s voice causes you to look straight ahead. Both of you had stopped just in front of the stairs – you hadn’t realized.

“This place is so creepy,” is all you say.

The motel room was just as shitty as the outside, but at least it was warm. The lights were all a disgusting yellow color against the fake wood paneling. There was a small TV sitting on an aged drawer, a desk with a table, and a singular bed that you could already smell the dust from. You remind yourself to urge Tony not to use the thick blanket when you sleep.

You had just received a text from Stephanie saying she was going to sleep when Tony stepped out of the bathroom. You sent a quick message back to your friend before putting the phone down on the bed. You smiled up at Tony as he walked over to your side. He cupped your chin – sending a wave of heat through your whole body – before he lets it fall back to his side.

“I’m going to Don’s room downstairs,” he informs you and your face falls.

“Why?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“He brought his PS4,” he says it like it’s obvious.

Of course.

“’Kay, well,” you swallow your disappointment. “Take the key. I’m not waking up to let you back in.”

“My own girl would let me sleep outside?” He looks at you with a lopsided grin, tilting his head. You can’t help but smile back. He hadn’t called you that in a while.

“I could. Now go.”

“Bye, baby,” he chuckles and turns to leave.

Your eyes stay trained on the back of his head until it’s blocked by the closing of a door. You bite at the inside of your cheek. You close your eyes, reinviting the tiredness you had felt earlier. Lifting the blanket, you slide down beneath it, settling into a lying position. An odd, old smell wafts from the sheets, but the warmth provides a comfort that you need.

You’re woken up from your slumber by the sound of a blaring car alarm. The walls do nothing to muffle the sound of the piercing, repetitive wail. Surely any member of your group could do it, and you wouldn’t need to get up. After another minute, you toss the blankets off you and swing your legs over the edge of the mattress. Sliding your shoes on, you stand up.

The keys jingle as you pick them up and stomp over to the door. You stick half of your body out of the door and point at the keys in the general direction of the car. That didn’t work. You groan and walk outside to get closer to the railing – the door closes behind you. Oh shit. But it was too late when you turned around. Pressing down on the right key fob, the car finally shuts up. You try the door anyway. No luck. The only one with the room key is Tony.

You walk down the stairs of the motel. In the distance, you could see Don still at the pool. Funny, you thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be playing with Tony? Maybe he got bored of watching your boyfriend. Walking over to Don’s room, a noise captures your attention. It’s not talking, more like moaning and giggling – from Stephanie’s room. You realized that you could see a crack of light coming from the door – it hadn’t been fully closed. You snicker, thinking of how you’d tease her for being desperate enough to get with Don.

Wait, but… you just saw Don. Still at the pool. And there had been no sign of Tony.

Slowly, and with an anxious flutter in your chest, you step in front of the door. The door stays miraculously silent as you gently push it open. You swear that your heart stops beating. There, on Stephanie’s bed, the pair are writhing against each other. Tony mouths at the side of her throat, while your friend’s arms are snaking under his shirt. You slammed the door as your heart threatens to jump out of your throat. You walk away, dazed – ignoring the loud sounds that emit from the closed room.

The air in the room was heavy with the scent of copper and the drone of the motel lights above. Jeff is leaning over the bodies of Stephanie and Tony, his blade dripping red as he finishes the final carving of a grotesque grin on Tony’s face. He’s precise with his movements – like an artist putting the final strokes to their masterpiece. Jeff had to reposition the bitch back on top of the girl he was swapping spit with. God, he could still see the look of horror on their faces. Her skin was pale and dull, with a similar smile etched onto her features.

He straightens up and takes a step back, assessing his work, and his head tilted. He’d really outdone himself this time, he thought. Jeff smirks, reveling in his sick joke. He lazily wipes his blade on Tony’s sleeve – not that it made a difference. These two were coated in blood he had fun playing with.

The shrill scream slices through his moment of silence – it had come from outside. He freezes before his head snaps toward the door. Who was that? His pulse accelerates, not from fear, but from curiosity. He walks to the door, another wide grin on his face. He cracks it open enough to peek his head through, the sound drowned out by the lingering echoes of the scream.

Jeff can see you on the second floor, standing frozen in place and trembling. His eyes travel down to the crumpled body on the floor – it was the other guy. Don, or whatever. His body lays in an unnatural position, and he can see the man’s lifeless face. His jaw was out of place, jutting out like an extreme underbite. Jeff would’ve cackled if he wasn’t meant to be quiet. That’s what’s so boring about targeting a group of people. He had to be quiet until everyone was dead. Which they all were, eventually.

But, then, his eyes flicker to you again. You weren’t crying like he thought you would be. You were just… there – you didn’t even look down to make sure your buddy was okay. Just one peek was enough for you – got you hollering like a pig – but you weren’t crying or running for the cops. He leans out further as you mechanically walk over to the stairs. The split second of fear he had seen on your face was all but gone. Your shock had made you numb, and you would just walk around it like it was nothing. Like your friend’s mangled body was just a bug.

“Oh, you’re fucked up,” Jeff whispered, a smirk on his face.

That excited him. He would be the one to get you crying in terror soon.

Nothing seemed real anymore. You were sure this was some kind of nightmare. That’s why you didn’t care. You just walked over to the ice machine – ignoring Don’s body on the floor – and grabbed a handful of ice. You don’t waste another second and shove as many ice cubes in your mouth as you could. Some had slipped out and crackled against the concrete floor. The pieces that skittered away had flown at your feet. But you didn’t feel it. You didn’t feel anything.

As you crunch on the ice, you slide some of the remaining pieces over your skin. The stinging cold that you would usually feel was replaced by a slight buzzing under your skin. You’re not sure whether you’re glad you can’t feel anything or not. You just wanted to sleep now.

Oh, right. The room key.

Letting the remaining ice cubes fall to the floor, you spun to head in the direction of the lobby. You didn’t want to deal with seeing your boyfriend’s tongue in your best friend’s mouth. You decided that you’d deal with them tomorrow. You didn’t care anymore. And they didn’t care either, it seemed. That’s why they didn’t come out running after you, right? They didn’t care enough to even pretend like they felt guilty. Tony wasn’t groveling at your feet, and Stephanie wasn’t crying her eyes out – begging you to still be her best friend. They had to know it was you that came into the room and slammed the door.

The lights overhead were a dull, sterile white compared to the yellow of the rooms – but it still smelled like piss. You could hear some sports game being played on a tiny, clunky box TV. But there was no sign of the owner. You turned your head from side to side but saw no sign of the fat old man. When you look back at the front desk, you notice the small rack of candy. Fuck it, you shrug as you reached a hand out and grab one. The numb buzz was starting to die down, but there was still no sense of real fear. Just the same tiredness you felt all day.

Guess you’d have to speed up the reunion early, huh?

The door to the room was slightly ajar once again. You had closed it, you remembered that. Maybe they had gone looking for you. Or at least when you had screamed. You nudged the door open with your foot.

Dropping the bag of candy on the floor, you felt bile rising in your throat. Your heart stopped for what seemed like the third time tonight. You honestly wished it would stop forever.

The putrid stench of the blood – let alone the sight of it – attacks your senses and made your head spin. The bodies were positioned as if they were frozen in a perverse display of intimacy. Tony’s face was right up on Stephanie’s, her cheek was being pulled on by Tony’s teeth to make it look like he was eating her face. Your stomach churned and eyes brimmed with hot tears. Doubling over, you retched onto the already stained carpet in the room.

You staggered backward, your legs threatening to give out as they shook. But you managed to take quicks steps back in the direction of the lobby. Your blood seemed to rush to your head, and you could’ve mistaken the pumping for the sound of drums. You wanted to scream and cry and throw up all at once. You wanted out.

Rounding the corner, the motel owner stepped out of a nearby room just a few feet in front of you. You could see the sweat on his shirt as he fiddled with the key ring – he was locking a door. He raised a hand to wipe some sweat from his brow, oblivious to your approach.

Your heart pounded as you stopped dead in your tracks. His actions were so mundane compared to the horror you had just witnessed. It made your stomach do flips. This was just another night for him. Another night of fixing the rooms and watching football on his TV.

“Sir-sir,” you tried to speak, but it came out in a shaky rasp.

Micheal turned to you, his brows raising in surprise. You had startled him. He gave you a once-over before smiling. “Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”

“They’re…” Your lips trembled as you tried to get the words to come out of your mouth instead of puke. You knew you were inaudible, but you didn’t have the strength to speak properly. “They’re… all… They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry, hon,” he leaned forward and squinted. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch—”

The man’s eyes widened and a wet, gargle emitted from his mouth as it hung open. Blood poured from the side of his neck, and a hand shot out to grab his shoulder and stabilize him. There was a squelching sound as the knife was dragged just above the owner’s shoulder. He crumples forward, sending a shower of blood your way, and some of it fills your mouth before you close it tight. Your eyes follow the sight of the keys that land with a soft jingle at your feet.

You stare at the man responsible for only a second. His scarred, unnaturally pale face is framed by jet-black hair that falls wildly across his face. It casts shadows onto his skin, especially his sunken-in, hollow eyes. They’re wide as they stare at you – cold and vacant. His most defining and spine-chilling feature is the wide, carved out smile on his face. It looked like it had scabbed over months ago, but it was still glaringly present. If this man was human, he didn’t look it.

But you act faster than you or he anticipated. You dive for the keys, picking them off the ground, when, suddenly, you feel a hand grab your wrist. He pulls you back up, bringing you closer to his body.

Just when you thought it was all over, you realize that the man is just staring at you. You feel his warm breath hit your face, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him. You’re confused, and it seems that so is he. Using this to your advantage, you smash the ring of keys into the side of his head.

As he howls out in pain, you break free and take a few steps back. You turn and bolt in the direction of a beat-up truck – the only other vehicle in the parking lot. Your hands shook and you clutched at the keys held tightly in your palm. It felt like you could suffocate with the heavy, tense air that surrounded you.

You cursed under your breath as you tried – and failed – to fit the key into the car door. The sound of the jingling only heightened your sense of panic. The key finally slipped into the lock, and you let out a quiet whimper. You yanked the car open, not daring to turn around.

Jeff simply watched you with a wide grin on his face. He was amused by your desperation – elated by the thrill of hunting you down. When the car clicked open, something in him clicked. His smile faltered as the realization that you were almost getting away hit him hard. With quick movements, he sprinted toward you and rounded the car to the driver’s seat.

You practically flew into the driver’s seat and slammed the door just as Jeff’s knife made contact with the window. The loud, grating sound of metal meeting glass caused you to scream. But you continued your attempt to get away. You jam the keys into the ignition, ignoring the hand slamming into the window.

“You bitch,” he snarled, banging on the glass. “I’m gonna gut you like a pig when I get my fucking hands on you!”

The tires of the car screech as you threw it into gear, jerking it backwards. Jeff continued to try and slice through the window, the sharp blade leaving a jagged mark. He took a step back to avoid his foot getting run over by one of the tires. He watches as you manically speed out of the parking lot, his figure getting smaller in the rearview mirror.

Your breath was coming out in short bursts, and your heart pounded wildly. As you drive off, you get one final look at him. He just stands in the parking lot, his own chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t chase your stolen car, but you can tell that his mind is thinking of how he can enact his revenge. For now, he’s proud that you’ve gotten away just this time.

Two Weeks Later

Jeff couldn’t stop thinking about you. He very rarely lets people get away on his sprees. Not that he was going to let you live, don’t be fucking stupid. He knew how to find you and what he’d do. The man was just biding his time. He wanted the time to be right. He wanted to make it special for you.

The thing was, that second guy – the one that was crushed on the floor – that wasn’t Jeff’s kill. And, as far as he knew, it wasn’t poor old Micheal’s either. You did that. Something had made you snap. And Jeff knew that feeling all too well. Just what had that useless motherfucker done to you? Must’ve been bad enough to cause a sweet little thing like you to break.

He… sympathized with you. In a very stupid way that he hated. But he also loved the blank look in your eyes as your brain numbed you to the act you acted on. That made him want you, oh, so badly.

He could make as many excuses as he wanted, but he wanted you. His mind replayed the whole thing like a movie. He thought about you while he trained, while he maimed, while he slept. And especially while pumping his hand along his cock. He’d stare up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open as low moans dragged out from his throat. He thought of the way your face twisted in fear, the blood that spattered on you, and oh that felt just right. That’s why he needed to see you again. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you.

He hoped you were prepared.