#life .. uh .. finds a way || muse

[rainrot4me]

My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?” She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look. 

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

-

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.” 

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

-

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it. 

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

-

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another. 

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them. 

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before. 

It really was surreal. 

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.” 

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume. 

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below- 

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

-

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it. 

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked. 

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

-

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you. 

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus. 

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently. 

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?” 

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks. 

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him. 

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers. 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you. 

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling. 

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full. 

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?” 

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on. 

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

-

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory. 

-

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

[gyuzgrl]

too sweet //lsm//

summary- when Jeonghan brings up BDSM at dinner, your boyfriend is keen on trying it out for himself. you laugh it off, telling him he doesn't have the stomach for it, and he decides to show you just how capable he is in bed.

Crystal-chandeliered ceilings, a live cello performance, a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee- 1945; you're in the lap of luxury. After a particularly long week, your boyfriend decided to organize a 'little' get-together to get your mind off work. Something small, he said. Just a little dinner with Jeonghan and Hoshi- nothing much.

That's how you find yourself here- seated in one of the best restaurants in Seoul, surrounded by friends, donned in a dress so stunning it would've killed a small Victorian child.

Earlier on in the relationship, you used to get awkward in places like this, wondering how much it cost, trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but now? Now you've grown accustomed to Dokyeom's treats. It's how he shows his love for you- among many other ways- so who are you to say no?

"and yeah- we fucked." Hoshi states, mouth full of food as Dokyeom's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Jeonghan giggles, turning around to see if anyone heard, and shakes his head.

"and?"

"and-" Hoshi continues, prodding a bit of beef with his fork, "and it was like painfully vanilla,"

You watch as Jeonghan's face contorts into a disapproving frown, and sip at your wine, praying to whoever's listening that your sweet, baby boy doesn't open his mouth to ask any questions.

But of course, you've never had much luck with the universe, have you?

"like ice cream?"

Aghast, the older man turns to Dokyeom.

"dude..."

When the inquisitive, wide-eyed stare doesn't leave his face, you cut in, clearing your throat.

"c'mon don't be like that- you know how he is Han"

Your boyfriend shifts his gaze to you, now wondering how you of all people know what his hyungs are talking about.

A sheepish, watery smile paints your face as you reach for your glass, taking another sip.

The air stills for a minute, awkward pauses flooding the space while Hoshi and Jeonghan share knowing glances.

They turn to you, flashing you those up-to-no-good grins, before fixing their attention to your poor boyfriend.

"alright buddy," Jeonghan starts, reaching out to grasp Dokyeom's shoulder, "lemme teach you about sex."

Immediately, you see the tips of his ears burn red. Poor thing.

"why are we uh, why're we talking about sex?"

"cause you still think we're talkin' about ice cream" Hoshi sneers. You shoot him a glare, and his shrinks back.

Ever the explorer, Dokyeom chimes in again, turning to you this time.

"we're not talking about ice cream? what are we-"

"sex." Jeonghan whispers, voice taking on a mock-sultry tone. He turns to you,

"what's he like in bed?"

"hey!-"

"he seems vanilla now, so I'm guessing it's basic shit" he continues, eyes narrowing in on you.

Suddenly you feel conscious of your surroundings. A nice evening out has somehow turned into a free-for-all analysis of your sex life, and your most intimate moments with Dokyeom have come under the looking glass.

"y-yeah, we're vanilla"

"oh you poor thing," Hoshi fakes a sob, bringing his hand to his chest as if your house caught on fire.

"don't be like that- some people prefer vanilla y'know?"

Some people, sure.

Not you, though.

As much as you love how Dokyeom makes you feel, you have to admit, he's a little, well... basic. It's the same old scene, classic p-in-v sex, sometimes he goes down on you, sometimes you do him, nothing apart from that.

Not that it doesn't feel good- it feels amazing- but you've always wanted something more. Something you're sure he won't be able to pull off.

"uhuh, I'm sure they do," Jeonghan muses, seeing right through you.

"what are we even talking abou-"

"sex!" all three of you whisper-shout in unison, starling Dokyeom.

"but- vanilla?"

"it's classic, like your basic animal-planet kinda sex" Jeonghan's voice turns serious, brows set in a firm line. "there's more than that, though"

Hoshi watches intently, moving a bit of bread to his mouth in slow motion, as the scene unravels before him. You find yourself equally invested, eyes fixed on Dokyeom's wonderstruck expression.

"there's more?" he gasps.

"oh you bet- d'you know what BDSM is?"

Your mouth goes bone dry.

"I think so? it's the stuff with the knives and leather and like latex-"

Jeonghan shoots you a quick glance, mouthing 'you're welcome', before moving back to the man next to him.

"that's not- it's not all intense and gory... there's layers to it, kay?"

Dokyeom nods, eyes shimmering.

"BDSM as a concept is deeper than just leather and blood. B and D stands for bondage and discipline, D and S stands for dominance and submission, and S and M stands for sadism and masochism-"

"so that's what Rhianna was talking about-" he cuts in, jaw falling slack as he listens further.

"each of these can come out in different ways- bondage could include cuffs, rope, shibari, or y'know whatever material you have on hand. discipline is meant in its literal sense- you do things to teach your partner the quote-unquote rules of sex, which could include spanking, using gags for punishment or doing things they like for reward. Sadism and masochism basically play on pain. Sadists like to cause it, masochists like to feel it- again, many ways to do this."

Hoshi stares in awe as Jeonghan concludes, putting his fork down to clap.

"wait- what about dominance?"

A sly smile quirks up Jeonghan's lips.

"oh that."

You swallow at the lump settling at the back of your throat, unable to tear your gaze away from your boyfriend's face- so eager, so fascinated by what he's heard.

"it's the premise of what all this is; discipline, sadism, bondage, it's all built on power play. One of you is in control and the other follows, letting themselves be controlled, it-"

"what about consent?"

Oh sweet, sweet boy.

"that's where safe words come into play. I use the traffic light system, so if my partner says green it means they're feeling good, if they say yellow, they're still okay but I need to slow down, and if they say red, they want me to stop"

"huh."

Dokyeom sits still for a minute, eyes glued to the plate sitting in front of him, and you can practically hear his brain churning to process all that he's learnt.

As the night goes on, he seems quieter than usual, staring at you, absorbing information, listening to what's being spoken about around him. Every time you turn to the side you meet his gaze- intense, preoccupied.

Dinner comes to a close with him shoving his shiny black credit card into the waiter's hands before anyone else beat him to it, and soon, you find yourselves saying your goodbyes, heading to the car.

Dokyeom opens your door, making sure you're seated, and moves over to the driver's seat.

"you don't- do you like how things are now?" Out of nowhere, his voice sounds in your ears, catching you off guard.

You look at him, surprise etched in the rise of your brow, and shake your head furiously.

"of course I do! baby, I love how things are with us, I love you"

He sighs, turning on the ignition, and begins to drive.

"not like that, honey, I meant physically,"

The blank look on your face has his cheeks burning as he works up the courage to say it.

"sex, y/n" he says, a little louder than before, "do you like the way we do things now?"

Oh.

You hadn't expected the conversation from earlier to stick with him, but evidently, it has. A shiver runs through you when he says it- sex. He's never brought it up so unambiguously before. It feels dirty, somehow, even though you've laid with him multiple times.

"I-"

"be honest, honey, okay?"

The earnest, gentle tone of his voice has your heart softening. He really is too pure for this world.

"I mean, I love the way we are now," you mutter, eyes focused on your lap as you pick at your nails, "you make me feel good"

Technically you aren't lying to him- you're just choosing to keep some things hidden. Dokyeom doesn't need to know that you've spent your nights thinking about his fingers buried deep inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until you're sobbing and shaking. He doesn't need to know you've been fantasizing about his arms, wondering how they'd feel pushing you down, leaving you helpless, completely at his mercy.

He's a nice guy, after all. They don't usually like stuff like that. And even if they think they like stuff like that, they don't have the stomach for it.

One stray teardrop and Dokyeom will be on his knees, apologizing profusely, crying along with you as he chastises himself.

"I'm not convinced," he sighs, shoulders slouching against his leather seats. "if this is about protecting my feelings-"

"no! no- not at all baby,"

"so tell me- I know you, I know when you've got something hidden away in that pretty head of yours"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, you find yourself in a bit of a dilemma. Should you be honest with him and take your chances? Or should you pacify him and convince him that plain old vanilla lovin' is all you need?

"I-"

"baby," he soothes, voice gentle, "I just wanna make sure I'm doing the best I can for you,"

A car passes you by, blaring loud pop music, and he breaks into a sheepish smile.

"there's a lot I didn't know before today- stuff that you knew about... so I just- I'm checking. If there's something you'd like me to do, someone you'd like me to be, I wanna try"

"oh,"

You stay silent for a bit, thinking over what to say. Sure, telling him that you're actually a submissive and you hate taking charge is simple, but the execution part leaves you tongue-tied. Someone as sweet and innocent as Dokyeom wouldn't be able to handle taking control.

Nothing against him, it's just that he's so cute and naive- there's no way he'd be able to restrain you and make you cry.

"there's one thing..." you mutter, voice so meek you're barely audible.

His ears perk up.

"y'know the dom-sub thing Hannie spoke about?"

"uhuh, one of us is in control and the other one listens,"

"yeah, I kinda, uh- I tend to lean towards being controlled rather than being in control"

"oh, we can do that if you like, baby" he chirps, twisting the steering wheel as he pulls into your apartment, "we can try whatever you want,"

There's a smile on his face- that same shining, star-studded gaze, eyes crinkling, teeth on full display- and you feel your heart sink.

You'll just have to make do with vanilla for the rest of your days.

The lift ride up is tense. You chew on your lower lip, tapping your heel impatiently against the ground as you move higher and higher, finally reaching your house.

Dokyeom keys in the passcode, unlocking the door, and you stumble inside, rushing to the bathroom for a bit of space.

Locking the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror, worry etched in the crease of your forehead. Your face is beet red, pupils blown wide, and your throat feels dry.

All that talk about the bedroom has you feeling a little jumpier than usual and you can't help the way your brain automatically shifts to its usual Dokyeom fantasy- tied up helplessly in bed as he eats you out over and over, saying the filthiest things known to man.

God, the things you'd let him do to you...

His nose is built just right, bumping into your clit perfectly as he eats you out, tongue lapping up your arousal from your past orgasms. Those long, slim fingers would be splayed across your thighs, forcing your legs open, even when your body spasms, begging for an intermission.

'snap out of it- Christ' you tell yourself, shooing away any wandering thoughts as you unlock the door and head into your bedroom.

"everything okay, honey?"

You curse the universe when your eyes are greeted by his broad frame, standing by your dresser as he clicks his watch open, shaking it off his wrist in a few crisp motions.

"y-yeah I'm-" you cut yourself off when he begins to fold his shirtsleeves up, dragging the white fabric up around his elbow, putting his forearms on display. The way his veins frame the shape of his arms so perfectly, peeking out just enough, has you growing restless with desire, and you feel your face grow hot.

"baby?"

When you stay silent, he eyes you through the mirror, making sure you're still listening, and continues-

"I was thinking about what you said in the car, and I think we should give it a try"

Before you can stop it from happening, your lips part, letting a taunting laugh slip past them. Dokyeom halts his actions.

"why's that funny?"

"it's not! I just uh-" you nibble at your lower lip, trying desperately to conceal the smile perking up the corners of your lips, "I appreciate you saying that, but we really don't have to do things you won't be comfortable with,"

"how d'you know I won't be comfortable?"

You sigh, walking over to him.

"Kyeommie, you're a really great guy- you're sweet, you're kind, you're funny- and I love those things about you,"

"uhuh"

"it's just that you're too sweet, y'know? You won't be able to handle the stuff I'm into, baby"

His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut in, sugarcoating your words as much as you can.

"being nice isn't a bad thing at all, okay- don't get me wrong. I love you exactly as you are, so there's no need to make yourself uncomforta-"

"you think I can't do it, don't you?"

His voice is low, dripping with a kind of venom you've never heard from him before. You reach out, moving your hand to soothe over his shoulder, but he catches your wrist, pulling you into him.

"Dok-"

"I may be slow, I may not understand the things you do as easily" he sneers, his grip tightening, "but I know my way around your body-"

"I know I can make you feel good."

He inches closer, nose bumping against yours, and you let out a shaky sigh. Your heart thuds rapidly against your chest, banging against the confines of your ribs so noisily you're sure Dokyeom can hear it.

You've never heard him speak like this before, never seen his eyes flood with such darkness. The once glittering light in his pupils has now dimmed to a darker, lust-filled ocean, void of mercy.

The expanse of his broad shoulders shield you from the front, and a hand slides down your arm, resting at the curve of your back, trapping you in his hold.

"what is it that you want from me, hm?" he mumbles, angling your chin up towards his face, "want me to take control- be a little aggressive?"

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, eyes wide. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd hear him talk this way, with his voice all low and mean. The way he holds you too, it's different from before. There's no gentle embrace, no tentative grip- no, he's sure right now. There's a certainty with which he holds you, a forcefulness he would've once been afraid of.

"tell me," he whispers as he walks you backward, heading for the bed, "tell me what you want and I'll make you feel good,"

With each step forward he takes in your direction, you take one back, staring up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Is this really the same guy from two hours ago?

His gaze pierces through you, challenging you as if to say- 'try me, I dare you.' It's simultaneously intimidating, yet somehow exciting, and you feel a familiar heat spread in your lower belly.

Like some sort of predator, dead set on catching its prey, Dokyeom stalks toward you, moving further and further, until your calves make contact with the bed.

He smirks.

You've been caught.

"what's wrong, honey?" a faux pout graces his lips, "you were saying so much a minute ago-"

You gasp as he closes in, leaving no room for anything but your body and his. The hand on your face leaves your chin, and he traces a finger down your throat, stopping just below the divot of your collarbones, lingering over the hem of your dress.

There's an evil glint in his eye and you watch, waiting patiently to see what he does next.

"strip."

Certain you heard him wrong, you stay still, staring up at him dumbly.

"oh, we don't feel like listening today?" he quirks a brow at you, loosening his grip on your waist as he lets his hand travel up your back, "either you do it- or I'll do my fucking self."

On beat, he thumbs the zipper of your dress and tugs it down in one sharp motion, leaving you stunned. The fabric falls slack against your body, loosening at your neckline just enough to give Dokyeom a peek of what lies underneath.

He trails his finger down your clavicle, pushing your dress down to reveal the lacey surface of your bra- the fabric flimsy and transparent, letting your nipples poke through.

"someone's excited," he bites his lips, smirking down at your hardened nipples. "you wanna take this off for me, baby?"

His voice is raspy, taunting almost, and your body obeys, arms hastily undoing your bra as you shimmy out of your dress. You should feel embarrassed, getting naked so desperately like some sex-hungry nympho, but you don't.

The arousal pooling in between your legs is far too distracting to leave any room for humility or shame.

Dressed pooled at your ankles, bra tossed aside, you stand bare before him.

Teasingly, Dokyeom lets the pad of his extended finger trace down your chest as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part- ever so slightly- bracing for impact. You feel his breath fanning across your face as his presence nears, skin almost touching yours, before he sends a sharp tweak to your nipple, pulling away with a devilish grin.

Jolting at the sudden stimulation, you gasp, eyes opening wide. There's a current running down your body, stemming from the spot he abused seconds ago, and you feel it land in your clit.

You want to argue, to call him an idiot and tell him to kiss you proper- to quit teasing- but you know you like this. The way he's got you all figured out, the way he so effortlessly gets you to bend to his will, god this is what you've been waiting for.

"get on the bed."

The firmness of his voice tells you to bite your tongue and acquiesce, but there's something deep inside of you that wants to see how far you can push him.

"don't wanna"

He pauses for a second, looking into your eyes-

"do you actually want to stop or are you just being difficult?"

"the latter," you singsong, staring up at him with a challenge dancing behind your eyes.

There's a moment of silence as he prods his cheek with the tip of his tongue, taking in what you've just said. His blood boils at the mockery in your voice, eyes hardening to a cold brown.

"brat." he spits, clenching his jaw.

In one forceful motion, Dokyeom yanks you towards himself, lifting you up by the thighs before tossing you onto the mattress behind.

"baby-!" You can't help but squeal as he manhandles you effortlessly, showing you just how strong he really is. Your body lands with a dull thump on the bed, sinking deep into your duvet as he stares daggers into your sprawled out frame.

"sit still."

Dokyeom steps back, standing before you at the foot of the bed, and keeps his eyes on yours. A sly hand creeps up his neck, fingers weaving into the intricate knot of his tie, and he pulls it loose, tossing the silk fabric near your feet.

Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, his hand travels down to his belt, clicking the buckle open with ease. The metal comes apart in his hand, loosening with a single flick of his wrist, and you feel your mouth begin to water.

He looked sinful. With his sleeves rolled up- biceps straining through the fabric, the way his chest peeked out tauntingly through his shirt, how his eyes bore into yours, not breaking contact for an instant- it made you want to scream.

The sound of metal clanking pulls you from your thoughts, and you realise that he's shucked off his trousers, leaving himself in his CK black boxers and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Kyeommie," you pout, reaching an arm out towards him, "c'mere"

It takes every bit of his strength to keep himself from crumbling instantly, but he manages it with a firm shake of his head.

"thought I told you to stay still, hm?"

You frown, your pout still evident, and turn away with a huff.

"I'm taking this off, y'know," he teases, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and you feel your attitude fade to dust as you turn back to him in an instant.

Who wouldn't? After all, he does have the body of a God.

As he undoes his last button, you're greeted by his sculpted torso, tanned to perfection.

Dokyeom smirks, ego inflating at your star-struck reaction as if you haven't seen him like before.

"every single time," he mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

Before long, the shirt is discarded to some remote corner of the room, and he stands before you, nearly bare.

"where were we..."

Grabbing your ankles, he tugs you down till your hips reach the foot of the bed. A startled gasp escapes you at his actions and he can't help but smirk.

"if tossing you around was all it took, you should've just asked, sweetheart"

Your cheeks burn red. Never once has he spoken to you like this- so direct, without scaffolding.

"makes me wonder what else you might like,"

Dokyeom brushes his fingertips up your legs, kneeling down to face your clothed cunt.

"I learned a lot today," he bites his lip, eyes fixed on the damp spot growing under your panties. "will you tell me which of all those you like or should I find out for myself?"

His gaze shifts to you, eyeing the flush on your cheeks, the scandalized widening of your eyes.

"I- I want-" you trail off, voice so small it makes him melt.

"I'm listening, honey, tell me what you want,"

That soft, silverish quality of his voice resurfaces, and you feel your body relax. He rubs slow circles into your thighs, trying his best to coax the words out of you, but you remain hesitant.

Embarrassed, rather.

You've never told anyone what you want from them so plainly, with nowhere to hide. You feel exposed in front of him for the first time in a while and the feeling excites you.

"don't stop." you murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "don't stop after just one... y'know-"

His eyes darken.

"oh I'm going to like this"

Deft fingers slide up your inner thighs, hooking under the last of your lingerie and pulling it apart, tearing the lace off of your body to reveal what Dokyeom wants most.

The most intimate part of you lies spread out all for him, glistening with arousal, and he has to suck in a breath to calm himself.

"don't- don't do that,"

"do what?" he asks, backing away slightly just in case you've changed your mind.

"try to control yourself like that- just don't hold back"

You breathe shakily before continuing- "I want to see how far you go-"

Something snaps within him, that final band of restraint finally tears apart, and he yanks you down onto his tongue, licking fervently at your cunt like this is the last time he gets to taste you.

Your lips part, letting breathy, helpless cries slip past, and Dokyeom knows he's doing well.

Despite the gusto with which he devours you, his movements are precise, practiced. It's exactly as he said earlier- he knows how to make you feel good. He knows your body.

He works his tongue against you, lapping at your clit without any care of hypersensitivity or overstimulation, pressing harder and harder into you as your legs spasm around him.

"wai- oh my god-" you moan, back arching up, hips lifting off the bed for a second, before Dokyeom pushes you back down firmly with his hand splayed across your lower belly.

Squirming helplessly under the force of his arm, your body tries to move away, to get just a little respite, but all in vain. He doesn't let you. The weight of one hand holds you secure, while the other cups the underside of your thighs- pushing your leg up as far as it can go.

With your legs spread out further, his assault on your clit feels even more direct, with each firm motion of his tongue sending shockwaves across your body, and you feel your muscles tighten, building up for release.

Dokyeom seems to have noticed too, and his lips curl up at the corners into a deeply satisfied smirk. You feel it against your skin.

"already?" he abashes, eyeing your tensed frame, "after all you said?"

"m'sorry- please, please can I-"

"can you?" he echoes.

"can I cum ple-please"

You've done this before- asked for permission before- but not with him. Never with him. Dokyeom's smirk only widens when he realises the power he now holds over you. To be able to deny one their right to pleasure is... exciting, to say the least. He certainly seems to enjoy it, considering the bulge growing in his boxers.

"mm, I didn't quite hear that honey, come again?" His voice is patronizing, mocking.

"please Kyeommie please let me cum"

Dokyeom's never thought of himself as a man who likes to abuse his power, but right now with the way you're begging? He wants to see just how much you can take before the seams begin to rip.

"no."

Your eyes fly open, jaw agape as your clit throbs under his tongue.

"w-what"

"you asked, I said no."

Now he knows he isn't being fair, he knows. But the tears welling up in your eyes have him entranced. There's this urge he has deep inside to see them all spill out and stain those pretty cheeks of yours.

"but-"

"are you gonna act up? 'cause that's not how you're getting what you want sweetheart"

Dokyeom's voice sends a chill down your spine. With the way his tongue abuses your clit, you're certain you won't be able to hold yourself back, not when your high is almost near.

You want to be good for him, you really do- but is this even fair? As he laps into you, nudging your sensitive nerves just right, your head tips back into the pillows and you moan out a string of profanities, getting completely lost in the pleasure he gives you.

He isn't happy.

"if you wanna cum that bad- I should give you more, hm? who am I to deny?"

You know very well from the tone of his voice what he's got planned.

Grabbing the tie- now dangling precariously off the bed- Dokyeom crawls over your spent frame, balancing his weight on his knees.

"gimme your hands."

Tentatively, you hold out your arms, pushing your wrists together.

"what are you do-"

"you know what I'm doing, sweetheart"

You do.

He pulls the fabric of his tie taut, looping it at your wrists before tying a firm knot to keep you from moving. The black silk, although soft to the touch, presses into your skin, and you hiss when he gives the fabric a sharp tug.

Dokyeom's eyes draw back to yours, and he grabs your wrists, pushing them up above your head.

"keep these here," he murmurs, gulping slightly when he notices how close your faces are.

Your eyes burn holes into each other's, and he sees something in your gaze that he hasn't before-

Hunger.

"Dokyeom," you breathe, chest rising shakily,

"kiss me"

Waiting no longer, he pushes his lips to yours, capturing the plush crimson in a slow, hard kiss. The way your lips mold so perfectly together, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle, makes this moment that much more meaningful.

When he touches you, when he kisses you, you know deep inside that this man is your forever. No one has or ever will make you feel so alive.

Dokyeom swallows your whimpers, your cries, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's sloppy and messy and desperate- but you love the way it feels, the way he feels.

Leaving your wrist, his hand comes down to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you harder, deeper.

"wa-wait-" you pant, feeling your lungs burn.

As you try to pull away, a deep growl emanates from within his throat, and he tugs you closer, unwilling to let go.

A surprised 'mm!' escapes your occupied lips, muffled by his own, and your body lights up- embers of red-hot desire scattering across your skin.

Dokyeom's own lungs beg him to move away, to breathe, but he holds still, stubborn as ever. You feel far too good. If this is how he dies, he'll go gladly.

The airy whimpers and gasps from you, however, finally get him to let go.

Your chest heaves as you gulp in precious breaths to soothe your lungs, as does his own. Staring up at him in shock, you manage to stutter out-

"where has that been all this time-"

He lets out an airy laugh, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing down your torso until he reaches your gushing sex.

"the hands stay up there- got that?"

You nod eagerly, holding your wrists up to show him, but you're quickly cut off by his tongue, pressing back into your clit.

"oh-"

Tracing slow figure eights into you, Dokyeom works his tongue deftly while his fingers prod at your entrance. With ease, he slips two long digits inside, pushing deep till your arousal trickles down his knuckles.

"Dok- oh fuck oh my god"

Each knuckle of his fingers adds further stimulation as he begins to pump in and out of you. Every time he draws back, you stretch to accommodate the balls of his joints and it feels divine.

You've always loved his hands. Those slender, long fingers were perfect for you, and the fact that his knuckles jut out at each joint only makes it all better.

The kinks in his fingers have your legs quivering, and his tongue- god his tongue- nudges your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Feeling your orgasm build at record speed, you moan, completely defenseless as Dokyeom slurps noisily at your sex while his fingers push up against that one particularly soft spot inside you.

"Kyeo-Kyeommie m'gonna-"

"that's it, sweetheart- just let go for Kyeommie"

With a sob, you feel your orgasm burn through you, twice as intense as the previous one, and your thighs quiver.

You're spent. You're spent and he's only made you cum twice.

Watching the way your muscles twitch from the weight of your orgasm, Dokyeom grins, feeling particularly proud.

Now usually, this is where it ends. His arms would slip out from under your thighs, and he'd kiss you sweetly, telling you how amazing you are. He'd check to see if you wanted him to make love to you, and if you agreed, he'd do exactly that.

Tonight, however, he stays firm in place, his mouth still connected to your cunt. Limbs still quivering, your eyes widen when he begins to move against you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath and recover.

Your body goes limp when he pokes his tongue against your over-sensitive clit, licking gentle yet firm stripes with precision. Each oscillation elicits the most delightful sound, just as a clock chimes with the motions of its gong.

All you can do is clutch the fabric of his tie, nails digging into your palms as your skin burns under his touch. Your nerves throb, pulsing in time with your heart, in time with his tongue.

"so good for me, honey," he mumbles into you, sliding his fingers back inside you in one fluid motion. Your back arches comically off the bed, mouth hanging open in a mix of shock and pleasure.

Once more, you find your belly rudely forced back down. Dokyeom narrows his eyes at you, irritation flashing behind his deep brown pupils, and keeps his hand there- splayed over your lower belly, pushing down with just enough pressure for his fingers to prod out from under your skin.

You gasp, feeling fuller somehow with the added force, feeling his fingers drag deeper against your walls. Within moments, your cunt clenches down around his digits, and he laughs in disbelief.

"again? baby c'mon you have a point to prove, don't you?"

Under any other circumstance, you would've bitten back, calling him some name, yelling some profanity- but now? Now you need him. You're so close, right on the edge of the water, ready to fall in, and only he can give you that last push. You know better than to open that smart mouth of yours right now.

"is this all it takes? y'know if you're gonna start off by being a brat- you gotta keep up with the act at least-"

"m'so-m'sorry-" you gasp, tugging against your restraints as you feel your high mere seconds away, "m'sorry please can I cum please I've been so good for you-"

Dokyeom nods, scissoring his fingers in and out of you more rapidly than before, and you cum with a scream, straining against the cloth binding your wrists as your orgasm rips through you like a whirlwind.

"that's my girl-" he sighs, placing a kiss to your inner thigh, while his fingers continue their movement inside you.

"Kyeom- oh- t-too much,"

Your cries fall on deaf ears, and he shoots you a sly grin.

It has been over an hour now, you're certain. Dokyeom's held you still and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, his fingers, both.

"p-please-" you whimper, tears streaming down your face as those long fingers slide into you once more.

"just one more, honey,"

Dokyeom presses tender kisses to your inner thighs- now wet with your slick- and pushes further into you.

"just one more for me, hm? you can do that for me, can't you baby?"

You nod, small sobs wracking your body. Of course you'll do this for him. You'll do anything for him. Plus, you can't say you aren't enjoying this-

"that's my girl."

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[apricot-blossomss]

Hellooo can you write a fic with Apollo x reader where he has to convince his father to grant her immortality so that they can get married, and later in the story their telling they’re kids how they fell in love and please make reader a daughter of poseidon. Thank u💋💋

☛ apollo asks his father for fem!daughter of poseidon! reader's immortality & his uncle for reader's hand in marriage

☛ sfw

☛ changed it a bit, hope you don't mind!

"father, have i ever asked something from you?"

apollo was a young god. not age-wise, of course. but his appearance had always been that of a young man, and though he had lived for a millennia, his bright and youthful character had never made him look a day older than twenty-one. now, his palms upward as if in prayer, his eyes pleading, he looked even younger. his lyre he had placed before his fathers throne, where he, too, stood. not as a fellow god, but as a son.

"no, you don't ask. you just take" zeus mused, frowning at his sons defeated stance. the god looked as if he was about to fall to his knees and prostrate if he didn't get what he asked. whatever kind of spell you had on him, it was working. "but this you can't take, can you?" with a sigh, he rose and stepped down the steps of his throne.

"i love her," apollo breathed, green eyes shining with the intensity of the declaration. "what must i do to convince you? i'll do anything, father." he meant it. he was ready to face every obstacle and trial, to fight sny creature, endure every torture to be with you forever.

"anything?" his father raised his brows and stepped away from him towards the center of the throne room. the gold tinted windows, reflecting the sunlight off the walls, surrounded his son with a golden hue, as if emitted from his golden locks themselves. he was one of the most glorious and mighty gods in the pantheon. as the mightiest one himself, he of course knew how crazy love could make you. but an eternal life? he frowned. "for this one mortal woman?"

"what are you saying?" apollo asked challengingly but his father raised a hand to silence him. with a sigh, he stepped closer and placed an understanding hand on his sons shoulder.

"son, I know how love can make you feel. I know how a good woman can uh", he chose his words with caution, "twist the mind of any man. but she is a mortal woman. son, you may be head over heels in love, but think of all the men and women you have loved." he chuckled. "the number may rise close to mine. the way i see it, she's just a fling. you'll grow tired of her. marriage does that."

"don't project your character onto others," apollo replied coldly and the golden glass of his eyes hardened with a frown. he didn't like the way his father was talking about you.

his fathers eyes widened slightly. but he overplayed it with a fatherly chuckle, stepping away a safety distance or two. "out of all the ladies, why did it have to be this one?"

"don't worry about your brother. i will take care of him," his son replied immediately and with a confidence that zeus could only admire. he wouldn't feel overly keen to break the news of his lovesick son over poseidon's daughter to him. he doubted it would be that easy, though it had not been the original intent of his question.

"that wasn't my concern son," he said calmly and began to stroll next to the windows. "just... i get a beautiful woman messing with the mind. but this one... not that she isn't fairly pretty, but you can't say she's a beauty, not compared to the mortals that usually catch our divine eye. in comparison with them, she's plain. beneath you."

"how dare you."

zeus was surprised to find his son's furious eyes gritted teeth and clenched fists. his father's raised eyebrow only made the storm swirling inside apollo thunder. until he heard your soft voice in his head. yes, if you were here, you would tell him to calm down. then, you would snort and say that his father wasn't really wrong, you know? And he would lean over and press kisses all over your face, trying to convey to you just how wrong he was. and you would giggle and pull him towards your lips.

the thought of you allowed him to calm down for now, unclench his fists and change his gaze from a glare to a firm look of determination. "i don't care about your opinion on her looks. all i want is her. forever."

"and what if i say no?"

apollo felt his heart skip a beat. "i-" his voice trembled. the iron grip around his soul tightened and a desperation crept up, up his throat, out of his mouth. "i'll come upon the mortal realm a monster. i'll be a catastrophe, wage war against your worshippers until you grant me my wish."

he didn't dare imagine your reaction should you ever hear of those words. oh how you would scold him, how you would hug him, ground him to the earth. the longer he was away from you, the more he craved your touch, your voice, your reassurance. you would never condone the actions he was threatening his father and the world with, but he couldn't exist without you. that's why he held his fathers shocked gaze. "my arrows will wipe out all that pleases you, father, if you take her from me."

zeus was, contrary to what some would have you believe, not stupid. the only thing stopping him now from granting his son this wish was his stubbornness. but he had to recognize that you were not worth the war his son was threatening- at least not to him. "alright," he said begrudgingly. "if you manage to persuade my brother, i will grant you your wish."

the iron grip around his heart loosened and apollo felt like he could finally breathe again. a triumphant smile crept onto his lips as he picked up his lyre. he couldn't wait to get back and break the news to you, you, who had been so rightfully skeptical. there was only one obstacle in the way. your father.

☀️

poseidon let him wait, but that was just to make him antsy and apollo knew that. your father had known of the relationship for a long time for you would frequent the beach -this beach more specifically-for your picknick dates. no doubt the ocean and its inhabitants had informed him of his daughter's company. but this would be the first time the two men would get to talk about your relationship.

not that apollo cared very much for your or his father's approval. poseidon had never taken a great interest in you or your life, apollo didn't see what right he had to approve or disapprove of any of your choices. but you had sensibly reminded him that he should at least pretend to ask for your hand to not offend your quick-tempered father. so, here he was, as the last rays of sunlight, golden, orange and red, danced ontop of the surface in an ethereal display of beauty and poseidon emerged from the waves.

apollo rose from his sitting position to go over and greet him when your father stepped onto the fine white sand of your favorite beach. "uncle"

"apollo," poseidon said, sizing him up in suspicion. "you wanted to talk to me. is this about your relationship with my daughter?" when apollo simply gave him a nod, the god sighed and began walking up the beach, the younger god walking next to him.

"so?"

"i'm going to propose to her."

poseidon stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face apollo, who stared him down without a hint of reluctance. the god knew that you were his nephew's latest favored mortal, but nothing could have prepared him for this. marriage? "you can't marry her, apollo," he said. "she is a mortal. you are a god."

"that doesn't matter anymore," apollo replied and resumed their walk.

"need i remind you of your past relationships with mortals?" poseidon argued. "your lovers have a strange habit of dying or turning into vegetation, you can't deny that."

the other god didn't answer. of course, he had pandered the risk for a long time, it had haunted him every time you weren't in his sights and the worry could only be forgotten when you were there, wonderful as you were, and kissed them away. the truth was, he had nothing to say in return.

"did you tell her about the risks involved?" poseidon pressed and the question drew an ironic laugh from the sun god.

"she knows of the risks involved. you may not know because you didn't care but she is smart and she always has the upper hand. she decided to be with me, and when i had worked up the courage to talk to her about them, tell her being with me was dangerous, she only smiled because she, of course, already knew." he locked eyes with your father who had fallen silent. "she can make her own decision. she has made her own decision."

poseidon's eyes narrowed in realization. "you didn't come here to ask me for her hand."

"no," apollo said coolly. "i came here to ask you to respect her decision, whatever it may be."

apollo had expected another protest, maybe even a fight, but, as unpredictable as ever, poseidon nodded hesitantly. "fine. do you want to ask her now? because I think she is heading our way"

as soon as he saw you in your white and blue dress, smiling brightly and hurriedly approaching him on the beach, all the stress and uncertainty of the last hours washed off of him, leaving behind nothing but love and excitement. your father had left, and like a little child, he ran towards you to lock his arms around your waist. you shrieked in surprise when you were lifted clean off your feet and into the air by your lover who spun you around with the brightest smile you had ever seen.

"good news?" you asked when he set you down, still holding on tightly onto your waist. your lover settled for a simple hum and leaned down for a kiss, but your hand got in the way. only reluctantly he opened his eyes and lightly kissed the fingers blocking his mouth. your eyebrow was raised and he knew that you knew. "apollo, how many lives did you threaten to make this happen?"

☀️

"dad?"

"hm?"

"how much do you love mommy?" your son asked, laying on his fathers chest, just having finished his bedtime song. you were closing the nursery's window and looked over at your boys expectantly. it had been five wonderful years of marriage, yet just a small part of what would be your immortal life with the person you loved more than anything.

"that's a good question, darling. how much do you love me, apollo?" you smiled and walked over to them, running a gentle hand through the golden locks your son had inherented from his father.

a grin flashed over your husbands face and he reached out to you with one arm, the other one draped over his son's shoulders. "i love you from the upwards most point of the sky down to the depths of tartarus. so much that years would not be enough time to sing all the songs I have composed in honor of our love. so much that aphrodite cried at our wedding, do you remember that, sunshine?"

"of course," you laughed and let him pull you closer. "i love you too, my love" apollo came up to meet you for a sweet kiss. his lips tasted of the apple cake you three had made together today, a baking session that resulted in dough-stained shirts and a messy but delicious and only slightly burned cake.

"eww," your toddler squealed and trashed in his fathers arms, causing the two of you to break the kiss. apollo pouted jokingly at his little boy who pouted back. "why do you kiss mommy so much?"

"'cause mommy wants to be kissed,” his father retorted and ran his fingers over his sons tummy in a way that had him giggling and kicking his feet. "and now, you're going to bed so i can kiss mommy some more."

"nooo," your son protested but apollo swiftly tucked him in and ruffled his blond hair. you took a hold of his small hand and pecked his little palm, still sticky from the dough. he hadn't properly cleaned himself up.

"good night, darling," you hummed and followed your lover out of the room, turning off the lights. now, the only thing illuminating the room was the night light in the form of a sun.

just when you had closed the door, warm lips consumed yours once more. you smiled into the kiss and buried your hands in his hair as apollo deepened the kiss. head angled back, back against the doorframe, and an apple-tarte-kiss. "what about another one of those?" he whispered in between kisses before moving on to your neck.

"that doesn't sound bad." your hands sneaked around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. "doesn't sound bad at all."

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Sketchbook - Chris Sturniolo

Requested by @pineapplealpaca Pairings - bsf!Chris x bsf!Reader Warnings - Just some fluff 🥰 and strong language! W/c - 2043 Summary - You and Chris meet freshman year of high school. With the talent of drawing, he quickly becomes your muse. After winning an award senior year, he finally finds out what you've been hiding from him this whole time. A/n - Thanks for requesting! 💚 This is my first Chris piece, hope you guys like it!! Should be edited so let me know if you see any typos! All interactions are appreciated ❤️ Dividers and photos are not mine; all credit due to original owners. My requests are always open! Check out my masterlist for my recent pieces! Tags - @lvrsturniolo (sorry I forgot 😭 thank you for already liking!! If anyone else wants to be on my tag list, just let me know ❤️) Current Matt series - City of Love. Part two.

Freshman Year

You sit on the bleachers, letting your pencil scribble across your sketchpad. Spending most of your time here, waiting on your older brother to get done with football practice. You were always an artistic soul, so drawing and painting was something you held close to your heart, along with the boy you had been crushing on since seventh grade - Chris Sturniolo. 

Life was so much easier with him in it. He came around often, being one of your brother's best friends, but you also formed a bond with him since the two of you were the same age. Over time the friendly banter turned into flirty banter, and you found yourself swooning over him at every given chance. Sketching portraits of him in your sketchbook, which might as well be your secret diary. 

You watched as he danced around the football field, doing what he loved most. After practice is finished, he makes his way over to you. Chugging the contents of his water bottle before trying to sneak a peek at your sketchbook, “whatcha’ drawing there, Y/l/n?”

A blush immediately creeps to your face, and your clutch your sketchbook to your chest, “uh- nothing! Just random stuff, why?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “just wondering, that’s all.”

Chris decided to leave it alone, but he knew he was lying when he said it didn’t spark his curiosity.

Sophomore Year

“C’mon let me see it,” your best friend, Chris, calls from the other side of your bedroom door. When you realized he had been snooping through your room, finding your hidden sketchbook in the process, you flipped shit on him. Snatching your sketchbook, your lifeline, and kicking him out. You run over to your closet, hiding it under a pile of junk you desperately needed to clean up. 

After successfully hiding your secret diary of a sketchbook, you rush over to the door that Chris was still knocking on, slinging it open. He stares at you, pushing you aside, and barging in your room. “It’s never that serious. Let me see that damn book,” he’s a bit agitated you’d keep it from him. There was no secret in your friendship with Chis, so hiding something this big was gut wrenching to him. He felt betrayed. He knew you didn’t want him to see it and that’s what made him want to even more. He had it a mission from that point on.

He needed to see what was in that damn book.

Junior Year

You let out an exaggerated sighed, clenching your sketchbook to your chest. Chris had you pinned on the couch in a battle over your precious sketchbook. Every time he saw it, he dove for it, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than Chris - the sketchbook bandit. 

“Chris, please,” practically begging as he stared you down. A smug smirk spread across his lips which were inches from yours. You didn't know what possessed him to go after your sketchbook every time he saw it, but he did. He would catch glimpses over your shoulder, making him more curious than ever. He knew you were drawing a portrait of somebody, but he didn’t know exactly who it was. Especially since you’d slam your book shut and hide it any time your senses told you he was near, his cologne being a dead give away.

“What’s the big deal, Y/n/n?” his tone was laced with playfulness. Knowing Chris too well, you knew he was just waiting for the right moment to rip the sketchbook from your grip. Being around him so much meant you were accustomed to his bullshit. Chris was a big goofball and the two of you got along great, aside from his never ending need to look in your book. He was determined to figure it out, and every time he failed, it ended in an argument. He could get anything he wanted from you, but you would never budge when it came to the sketchbook. 

At first, Chris thought you were afraid to show him your drawings, but when he begged to see one, making you rip a random drawing out and shove it towards him, he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. He just knew there was something, someone, in that book you didn’t want him to see.

Senior Year

The day was finally here - the art show. Your art teacher entered one of your paintings, and if you were honest, you weren’t completely okay with it. Only reason being, the portrait she entered was of your best friend, Chris. He had become your muse over the years. You were around him the most, so his face became easy to draw for you. The way his jawline curved when he turned his head to the side. The shape of his eyes and nose being more symmetrical than anyone you had ever drawn before. You couldn’t help it - when you looked at him, your pencil flew across the paper like magic. 

Chris was one of the most important people in your life. Even though you and Chris were just friends, you couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he looked at you, and that had been a feeling he gave you since the first day you met. You never knew if Chris felt the same way, and you weren’t the type to be straightforward, so you never brought it up. Chris was the complete opposite, being a little too blunt at times. It worried you if he didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t know how to let you down easily. This became one of your biggest fears over the years of knowing him, and one of the main reasons you kept it a secret. You were just grateful he was in your life on a day to day basis, crush or not. 

Luckily, Chris had a football game and couldn’t come to the event you were being awarded for. They had already announced the winners online last week, three of them - two other entries from different schools, and yourself. The only thing you had to do was get through your award winning speech and collect your certificate. Chris being disappointed he couldn’t call off the football game, you being upset you couldn’t attend his game. It was a coincidence in the worst way, but the two of you made plan to make up for it later in the week. In a way you were glad you didn’t have to confess to Chris the secret you had been hiding since freshman year. Knowing Chris, never thinking things through thoroughly before letting his words slip, you figured he’d think your portraits of him were weird. In a way, they were, you had been creepily letting your hand scribble across paper, drawing your best friend. 

Even worse, hiding it from him. For years. Maybe him not being here tonight wasn’t such a bad thing.

You bite your lip, and your gut churns as the host calls your name, “and for the second winner of tonight, Y/n Y/l/n, from Somerville High School!” 

You walk on stage, approaching the podium, and give the audience a big smile. This was one of the biggest achievements of your life, the feeling was euphoric for you. Letting your eyes scan the crowd, landing on your parents and brother. You notice Chris sitting next to your brother, your eyes widen, meeting his gaze, and you spin around to look at your winning portrait - a portrait of him. 

Chris stares at you with an unreadable expression plastered across his face. You couldn’t help wondering how he felt about discovering the secret you had been keeping from him the last four years. Was he mad? Did he even realize it was him? 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a step forwards and clear your throat, “I’d like to thank everyone who came out tonight, everyone who donated, and everyone who voted for my art piece. It means the world to me, standing in front of all of you today. I want to thank my family for supporting my dreams, and being here tonight,” you ramble on. Your stage fright disappears for a moment when your eyes land on Chris. A smile stretches across his face and he raises his eyebrows, like he’s telling you to continue. “And of course, I’d like to thank my best friend for being my muse,” your tone was laced with nervousness and passion all at the same time. Chris had inspired you without even knowing it. 

After you wrap up your speech, you enter the common room, chatting amongst the other winners. Various strangers of the art community approached you, congratulating you on your big win, and praising your masterpiece. You knew at the end of the night, you’d have to talk to Chris, and the anticipation boiled in your gut because of it. You didn’t know what you were going to say or how you were going to approach the situation, but you knew it had to be done. You just hoped it didn’t ruin your friendship in the process. 

“Pretty big secret, huh?” a voice from behind you snapps you out of your trance. Immediately recognizing that it’s Chris, you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact of his words. “I can see why you didn’t want me to know,” he continues, this time his voice is closer than before. You don’t say anything because, honestly, what the fuck do you say? 

An awkward smile pulls at your lips as you avoid eye contact with him, “I can’t believe you’ve been drawing me like one of your little french girls this whole time,” he playfully scoffs. His joke breaks the awkward tension being held between you two, making you let out a giggle. 

“Shut up,” you groan while running a hand through your hair. 

“Why?” Chris had always been one to tease you. Especially when it comes to your sketchbook so now that he knows what you had been drawing this whole time, he’s loving the hell out of it. 

“It’s not funny, Chris,” you groan, looking away as your face heats up a dark shade of red. He always had that effect on you, but it was even worse now.

“No, I mean why me?” he asks, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find the real answer. He already knows you won’t be completely honest with him, not when it comes to your drawings. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble under your breath, eyes fixated on your shoes. 

Chris reaches out to take your hand in his. The sudden contact makes you look at him, “you can tell me, Y/n.” 

Shaking your head, “I just think you have good bone structure,” you come up with the first lie you can think of, pulling your hand away, and walking to your portrait of him. You point to it, “your face is very symmetrical. It’s easy to draw!”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. His face was easy to draw, but that was probably because you had drawn him so many times. It was familiar to you. It inspired you.

You felt bad about telling him a halfass truth, but your intuition told you his reaction wouldn’t be good, so you hid it the best you could. You watch as Chris’s eyes brows knit together, his lips forming a straight line. He stares at you for a second, keeping the hard expression etched on his face.

As soon as you think you’re out of the water, he does the unthinkable - reaching a hand out to your wrist, pulling you to him, and smashing his lips into yours. The unexpected kiss makes you freeze for a split second while his lips move against yours. Chris brings a hand up to your face, almost like he’s telling you to accept it. You do exactly what he wants, moving your lips against his, letting him take the lead because you were, obviously, a nervous wreck. 

The shock is still taking a toll on your mind, and body, as Chris pulls away. He looks at you with that same unreadable look, “you’re a bad fucking liar, Y/n.” 

[cryptidghostgirl]

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

one free pass for the grumpy!logan and overprotective brother!wade plot bunny 🤝🐇

"So," Vanessa hummed, watching you stir pans, "how was the date you went on?"

"He stood me up," you shrug. "I did get some really good gyoza though-"

"Sweetie."

You shrug again. "It's not the first time. And let's face it. It won't be the last. I write romance books. I don't live them."

Vanessa gave you a look but kept her commentary to herself. The last few years had been hard on everyone. You'd thought your big brother was dead right along next to her. You'd been in the thick of it even though you were trying to start college. Still just a kid. And in a lot of ways you were her rock- and a link to Wade when he was gone.

"I don't want to spend my whole life like our mom. Just like Wade doesn't want to be our dad, Nessa." You shake your head like you're banishing a thought and turn off the stove. "Let's fucking eat. I'm starving."

"This looks incredible. I have sex dreams less erotic than this."

"I heard that, Ow," Wade said, clutching his heart.

Vanessa shrugged and poured stroganoff into a bowl before shoving it into his hands, "Go be useful. Y/N did the hard part."

"Logan," you call, "I know you probably don't do wine, I got beer if you want that instead?"

"I uh- thanks," he said, shuffling to the table, offering Trigger his hand to smell when the dog shot him a look. He sniffed it and shot him a distinctly dirty look before walking away to re-glue himself to your side. Good dog, he thought.

"No assigned seating here, Logi-bear," Wade said, taking a seat next to Vanessa as he finished putting portions on plates- leaving Logan nowhere to sit but next to you since he'd put Mary in the other empty spot.

He nodded and pulled out a chair and looked towards the kitchen. He could hear you still rattling around and the sound of a knife slicing through something. And then a clatter "Fuck!"

Wade was out of his seat in a second and in the kitchen, "What'd you do- Holy shit biscuits!"

"It's fine I just-"

"Where d'you keep you towels?" he asked, rifling through the drawers and throwing things around.

"Next to the sink, Christ, it's not that bad-"

When you walk around the corner with Wade's arm around your shoulder, Logan blinked, blood-spattered your shirt and your pants. For "Not that bad" it looked like you might have cut your fucking hand off.

"I'll get some Ice," Vanessa said, standing up, "Logan, keep pressure on that for a second?"

Logan nodded, "Easy bleeder?" he ventured. You weren't phased enough about it for this to be new.

You nod and sigh, letting him look at your hand. "I've done worse," you muse. "He's so fucking dramatic." A thud makes you look away from the wound and Logan wrapped it to press on it carefully. "I swear if they're fucking in my kitchen again-"

"We're not," Vanessa said returning with an icepack, "I dropped the ice cream trying to find the ice."

"And Wade is-"

"Debating on if You'd want the staple gun or just super glue," he answered.

"There's bandages under the sink you degenerate!"

"Ooo, secrets," Wade said, dropping the stuff he was holding and heading towards the bathroom.

"Nessa," you plead.

"I'll go get him," she said rolling her eyes.

Logan exhaled through his nose and adjusted the ice on your hand. "I think you'll live, kid."

"Probably. I can hold this, your dinner is getting cold-"

Logan snorted, "Not a complete animal. Wouldn't be polite to eat while my hostess is bleeding out."

[sehtoast]

The Mentor and The Mirror (Homelander x Reader)

700 words, similar powers!reader, gender neutral reader.

Ask prompt: What if Homelander was "given" someone, by the higher ups of Vaught, to mentor? They have powers like his, but are a bit weaker and different. What Homelander doesn't know is that they are from the lab like him.

If he found out this person grew up like him, do you think he'd be meaner or sympathetic to them?

“Someone could kill you with a sneeze.  They really think you’re worth training?”  He asks bitterly.  You two have been out in this field for hours now, and he’s fucking over it.

Well, for the most part.

There’s something endearing and fun about teaching your pet new tricks.  See, they’d told him flat out that you were his to mentor, but all he heard was you’re his. The sentence stopped there.

You’re a peculiar thing, equipped with all of his same abilities, except that you lack invulnerability.  You’re a liability for crime fighting, but those fucks on the board of directors already made their choice.  Besides, either he trains you or Stan will be an ever present thorn in his side.  Last thing he wanted was to deal with that asshole.

“Why the fuck can’t you fly yet?  Just do it,” he gestures with his hand, “like a… I don’t know, a normal person?”

“Sorry-”  You blurt out, accidentally flipping upside down.  “I uh, they didn’t let me practice much in the rooms growing up.  Ten foot ceilings, you know?”

He blinks rapidly at that, cocking his head slightly.  What rooms? 

Homelander stores that little bit of information away for later, chuckling instead as you plummet to the ground and land on your ass.

You groan pitifully.  This has been absolutely awful.

“I don’t think I can do it…” You murmur dejectedly, sitting upright.  “It’s hard.”

Now that bothers him.  No student of his is going to fail and make him look bad, and you’re certainly not going to make him have another fucking meeting with Stan.  He rolls his eyes in exasperation before leaning down to lift you.

“Wh–”

You’re weightless in his arms as he spins, winding up to–

“N- NO, NO, NO!”  You shout as he hurls you into the sky.  You flap your arms and legs, begging your powers to work as you ascend past the clouds, further and further until the air gets thin and the world below is square patches of various greens.

“Always gotta do these things the hard way,” Homelander muses, clicking his tongue below.

You continue falling, tears spilling as you plummet faster than you can gather yourself.  You see your life flash before your eyes until–

Oh.

You flex your shoulders back and suck in a breath, and suddenly…

“About fucking time!”

He’ll never admit it, but the excitement on your face and the hug you give him makes him so fucking proud of you.  

Later that night, he delves into your files.  Madelyn’s access codes still work, and he finds your full file with ease.  Your record is squeaky clean.  No past employment, no education, no family records…

There’s nothing. 

And that’s how he knows.

He knows exactly what you meant earlier, and he knows exactly where you came from.

He knows because that’s how his file looks, too.

He knows because he came from there, too.

The next day, when you excel with laser practice, he’s proud, but he’s also resentful.  You’re not just his student now; you’re him.  You’re a physical reminder of everything he’s gone through.  

He hates you for it.

But he hurts for you, too.

It breaks his heart when you pass the medical ward and shuffle closer to him.

He used to do that, but there was never anyone walking with him.

The next time you two are out in that field, he’s much more patient despite how much it grates his nerves to watch you flounder in the air again.

He looks at you and suddenly he’s back there.  Remembers when the doctors would correct his mistakes with enough electrical voltage to actually hurt him.

It always made the lights flicker.  Made the room smell terrible– all hot and rotten.

He hears Vogelbaum’s voice.  

Not good enough, John.  Do it again.

He’s angry that you clearly weren’t subjected to the same. How the fuck was that fair?

And yet…

He’s so fucking happy knowing you weren’t.

If nothing else… they clearly didn’t hurt you as much as they hurt him.

This time, when you fall, he catches you.

Just like he wished someone would have done for him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The grocery store is nice. It’s not very big or crowded either. You expected one of those manic superstores you saw on TV. Instead, shoppers mill around in a mellow din and investigate apples or jars of jam. 

You take out your list as you step out of the way of another customer. As you unfold it, Walter stands nearby. He looks around the store, his chin high, and heat speckles across your neck. You look up at him and give a sheepish smile. 

“You don’t have to stick around. You just need coffee, right?” 

“I’m in no hurry,” he assures you and peeks down at the paper in your hand, “so, what’s on the list? What are we looking for?” 

“You really don’t have to,” you insist. “I’m sure I can figure this all out.” 

“I’m sure you can,” he says and takes a basket from the stack near the door. “But I’m offering because I want to.” 

“Hm, okay. Bet it would be faster...” you mutter. “Okay, er, zucchini.” 

“Zucchini,” he nods. “Well, look at me talking a big game and you stumped me. I don’t think I’ve ever bought any.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” 

“No problem, it’s gotta be with the... squash,” he points and gently nudges you ahead of him. “Right there.” 

He walks with you down the aisle and you squeeze by a cart as he trails behind you. You stop before the green vegetables and take a bag. Walter nears and offers up the basket. You bag up the zucchini and set it carefully inside. 

“Alright, and eggs... flour...” you look down the list. 

“Making a cake?” He wonders as he turns down the next row of produce. 

“Muffins. I thought... every day I could have one for breakfast. Like my mom makes. And I could freeze the extras for next week.” You explain, “and lunches, just a loaf of bread and tuna.” 

“Wow, seems like you’ve got everything planned out,” he muses. 

“I thought I did but I couldn’t even find the grocery store,” you laugh nervously. 

“Don’t be rough on yourself. You’re new. You’ll get around,” he assures. “Hey, be right back, gonna go grab my beans.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Dairy’s down there,” he points before he hurries off. 

“Thanks,” you utter after him. 

You grab a carton of eggs and peer around at the aisles, squinting up at the signs for each aisle. You see him down one as you search for the flour. It’s in the same row as the coffee. As you come down it, he tucks away his cell phone. 

He approaches as you look at the bags of flour. You grab a small one. Light enough to carry back to your dorm. 

“Here,” he takes the eggs and puts them in the basket. As you put the flour in after them, you sense his size again. The way he looms reminds you of how small you feel and really are. “So, besides getting lost, how’s school going?” 

“Good, I think. Yeah. I like most of my classes,” you say. 

“But...” 

“But?” You check your list again and find a tin of baking soda. 

“You don’t sound entirely pleased.” 

“I don’t?” You look at him. “Well, I guess I miss my mom. A little.” 

“That’s normal. And it just means you love her.” He insists. 

“I do,” you agree. 

“What about friends?” He prompts. 

“None, so far,” you shrug. “But I guess it takes time.” 

“No one you know from home going here?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “home schooled.” 

“Home schooled,” he hums, “wow.” 

“I know, it’s weird.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“That’s what the guy in my history class said. It’s okay. It’s different. I think it’s weird to go to a school school. Sounds scary,” you say. 

“Well, you are,” he chuckles. “You’re in college. That means you’re pretty smart, home school or not.” 

“Maybe,” you agree dully and check your list. 

“Marshall?” A deep timbre undercuts the next item written down, “figures I run into you.” A man appears at Walter’s other side. “Getting that piss you call coffee.” 

“Chris,” Walter greets flatly. 

“Don’t act so happy to see me,” the man retorts. “How’s classes? You suspend anyone yet? I know it’s the first day but I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Haha,” Walter drones sarcastically. 

The man puts his hand on the shelve and as he leans, his eyes fall on you. He’s a tiny bit shorter than Walter but still taller than you. And his dark hair is slightly fluffy and a thick beard darkens his square jaw. His irises are bright and blue. 

“Oops, I’m interrupting,” he says. 

“Doing some shopping,” Walter answers. 

“Don’t tell me you’re in one of his classes. Good luck.” The other man chirps. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Walter girds. 

“Him? Chris,” the man reaches across Walter’s front and offers his hand. “And you... TA?” 

“Mauve,” you shake his hand gently as his covers yours completely. His grip is strong and firm. “Um, we’re... I...” you hesitate as you try to come up with some sort of explanation. “We just met but Walter’s been so helpful. I’m new here so I don’t my way around yet.” 

“Walter being helpful? And who wouldn’t be for you, Mauve?” The man grins. 

“Chris,” Walter growls and angles away from him, “what else is on your list?” 

“Erm, bread,” you flick it nervously with your thumb, the other man peer around Walter at you. 

“Nice to see you, then, Marshall,” he says. 

“Mm, you too,” Walter doesn’t look back as he marches past you.  

You smile at Chris and give a tiny wave before you follow the larger man back down the aisle. You catch up to him as the list crinkles in your hand, “is that a friend?” You ask. 

“Kinda,” he shrugs. “He’s in Psych too. Sometimes we teach 304 together.” 

“Oh. Cool. Must be nice to get to work with others like that,” you say. “He seems nice.” 

“Nice? Chris?” He echoes. “Can be, I guess.” 

“Oh, okay,” you accept. 

“Mauve, you’re a nice girl. You think everyone is nice. Just like that guy in the Student Centre, right?” He says. 

“Well, he wasn’t mean.” 

“No, because he was trying to trick you,” he turns down another aisle and stops by the small cans of fish. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m just looking out for you. Guys like the one who sat at your table, they aren’t nice. Colleges aren’t full of nice guys.” 

Your lips fall straight and you nod. You pick out a can of tuna as you try to hide your anxiety. You know he’s right. At the orientation, they told you how to call Campus Police and about those buttons on the polls that set off the sirens to signal help. And you’ve seen the news stories. Your mom couldn’t stop watching them before you left. 

“My mom told me the same,” you say. 

“She’s a smart woman. You wanna stay safe for her, right? She must be very worried to have you so far away, huh?” He drawls. You nod. “So, how about I keep an eye on you? Just so you can call and tell her everything’s good.” 

“I think... yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree. “Walter...” 

“Yes?” He raises the basket for you to put the cans of tuna inside. 

“Are we friends now?” 

You peek up at him and you’re surprised to see his lips curve, just a little, “sure.” 

[theemporium]

THAT DANNY SMUT WAS AMAZING 😩 if you’re able to, can you write one along the lines of him body worshipping the reader after he finds out that she is insecure about her smile, reader brought up that his smile is her favorite feature and that he makes up for both of them since hers is bad and he’s like 😁🤨 , LMAO he begins to think about it and realizes that she always covers her mouth and has never seen her real smile :( even though she puts up a fight, he fucks her dumb and makes her smile during it . “ don’t cover your face..fuck this is what you been hiding from me” while he squished your cheeks together UGH

thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting!🖤

.

Despite how new your relationship with the Aussie driver was, he worked out pretty quickly that you didn’t like being the object of focus whenever he had his camera in his hands.

And for the life of him he couldn’t work out why. 

There had been countless times over the last few months since you started dating Daniel where he would whip out his camera—whether it was on one of your cute dates or a casual day at home—and point it towards you, wanting nothing more than to catch your beauty in a candid moment. 

And every single time you had managed to cover your face or turn away before he could click the button.

It took weeks for him to ask you, and when he heard your reasoning, he swore something in chest cracked a little. 

“I just don’t like my smile,” you had admitted to him with a sheepish expression on your face. “But it’s fine. Your smile is pretty enough for the both of us, baby.” 

But Daniel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the way you put yourself down like that, so casually like it was natural. And he didn’t like that fact in the months he had been dating you, he hadn’t seen your proper smile in the course of your relationship. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that you didn’t think you deserved to be the muse of his photography account when that was all he wanted to post about these days. 

He didn’t like any of it and he swore he would make you change your mind. And the thing was that Daniel could be very persuasive, both with his words and with his cock.

“Danny,” you gasped as your body jolted with each thrust, tits bouncing and walls clenching around his cock like you could feel him any deeper than you already did.

“That’s it, baby, gimme another one,” he groaned as he squeezed your hips, his hooded eyes focused on the way his cock disappeared inside you with each thrust of his hips. “Wanna feel you come again for me, pretty girl.” 

“C-Can’t,” you sobbed and shook your head, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you as he continued to fuck you like you were just a toy for him to use. God, even the idea made you clench around him. “Too much.” 

“Nuh uh,” he groaned and shook his head as he looked up at you, your head falling back against the pillow as your lips parted with your pretty moans. “Gonna keep going until you give me what I want. Not gonna stop fucking you silly until you show me that smile of yours, pretty girl.” 

Almost instinctively your hands went to your face. “Danny—” 

“No,” he groaned as he gripped your wrists, both of your hands pinned above your head by one of his as he glared down at you. “No hiding from me.”

And he could’ve sworn his heart wanted to burst when you finally gave him the smile he was waiting for, the way he had to hold back his own release as he squished your cheeks with his free hand and grinned down at you. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” he murmured before he leaned down to kiss your pretty smile, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. “C’mon, baby, smile for me while you come around my cock.”

.

[sashiavi]

•·····🍑······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓣𝔀𝓸 ⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•······🍑·····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#22•𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚡•#22

𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ⁴ᵏ

He knew this was a bad idea, a horrible idea. A potentially illegal idea? Don't ask him, he wasn't a cop - He didn't particularly want to find out regardless. But. The warm huff of his girlfriend’s giggled breath on his hardening length. The flushed expression of the usually stoic man on his blaring phone screen. They almost make him forget about the passing headlights of cars and the dripping pipes puddling on the concrete of the graffitied alleyway. 

It all started, Kaveh muses, earlier that night.

The Bumbling bustle of the bar oddly soothes Kaveh's nerves, an all-familiar place with even more familiar people. [Name] and Kaveh went out on the town with Tighnari and Cyno, leaving Alhaitham back at their apartment. He mentioned he had some important thesis he had to work on - Kaveh thinks it was just an excuse to stay out of it. Alahitham was a homebody, a grumpy near agoraphobic man that could live the rest of his life in a hole - And he'd be happy, too. Kaveh and [Name] would probably join him, the pair never wandered far from the aforementioned man. He was their rock, or maybe a boulder, temperamental, shell cracking at every misadventure the pair strung him through. Sometimes though, Alhaitham came out with the sweetest affirmations and it sent Kaveh’s brain barreling down a never-ending flight of stairs.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Kaveh’s phone buzzes on the table, lighting up with a message from his other half.. Or third? If his heart were a pie chart, he’d have a special place for both of his partners. All good things come in threes - or something - Regardless, his boyfriend texted him. And his girlfriend answers.

The ever so punctuated Alhaitham lights up his phone screen with his demands. Kaveh swears his eyes hurt trying to read his texts. He was too inebriated for this, the words swirl into a muddly ball of squiggles. He ought to punch Alhaitham in the mouth.. With his mouth… Maybe later. 

“He’s no fun” [Name] pouts, swirling her deteriorating paper straw through her drink, mixing up the once rainbow assortment of liqueur into a muddy, watery red-brown. Kaveh watches his darling [Name] slump over the table, throwing her phone down, nearly knocking over his frozen margarita and whatever bizarre cocktail she decided to order herself. Tighnari gives a soft chuckle from across the table, eyes crunched with a sympathetic smile. 

“Knowing him he’s missing you just as much [Name], he’s just not one for places like this, Cyno is the same.” Tighnari’s voice manages to cut through the live band playing away at some classic folk rock song everyone and their father knew. Speaking of; Cyno was nowhere to be seen - Long gone off to the bathroom or the bar.. Archons knows, that man was an enigma. Kaveh wasn’t sure he even existed in the first place, was Cyno real?

The ping on Tighnari’s phone nearly scares him. He shall appear Kaveh half recites in his head with an outward snort. He watches Tighnari with sleepy eyes, cheek pressed into the palm of his hand. The aformentioned man opens his phone with his thumb. He widens his eyes comically, quickly pressing the off button on the side of the device, nearly dropping it onto the table in his haste. [Name] squints at him from the table top, lips pursed and an eyebrow cocked. Tighnari clears his throat.

“Ah- Cyno messaged- He’s waiting for me in the bathro- uh I m-mean the back.. Room.. door- the back door! Cyno’s ready to leave.. I’ll see you guys around? G-Get home safe!” Tighnari stumbles of of his stool, most definitely not making his way towards the exit of the building. Kaveh blinks, sipping his frozen marg that was not-so-frozen anymore - Alright then. He side eyes his girlfriend, giving her a look - Are you seeing this?

“They’re gonna fuck” [Name] falls into a pit full of giggles, wrapping her lips around her straw, drinking up the watery thing this place called a cocktail. At least someone said it. 

“I couldn't have said it more eloquently myself..” Kaveh says, sipping into the last ounce of liquid in his glass with a bubble of his straw. Mm tequila. Yuck.

“I’ll be back in a sec, Kaveyy~ Gotta go bathroom..” [Name] hops off of her stool and disappears into the crowd. Kaveh sighs, blinking his way back into the land of the sober. He nurtures her drink with the instinct of a mother pigeon, fending for her young in the big bad city. No harm shall come to this watered down mystery juice, not on his watch. He feels the burn of alcohol in his cheeks, the subtle sway of his body as he sits and stares. Much like going to the bathroom at a house party, stuck alone for a second to really take in just how drunk you feel. The horrible feeling is quick to dissipate when [Name] comes weaving through the crowd, back over to their little table. She had a quirk about her, a sly look in her eye, twitch on her lip.

“Welcome back,” Kaveh hands her, her drink. She graciously takes it with a sweet kiss to his cheek, staining his face with her lipstick. Kaveh gets awfully suspicious when she pulls out her phone, pressing her face to his own and snapping a cute selfie, sticky lipstick stain on full show. She pulls back with a giggle, grinning down at her screen nearly pressing it to her nose. Kaveh doesn't have to inquire, she’s quick to let him in on her mischief.

“‘Nari and Cyno gave me an idea~” [Name’s] eyes looked far too awake for the time of night. Kaveh cocks a brow, squinting at her phone screen as she swipes between her gallery pictures. He sees her in all her glory, somehow managing to look absolutely insatiable in the dingy bar bathroom. Tiny dress slipped half off, pretty lips parted with her tongue poking out just enough, a dangerous glint in her eyes. He sucks in a breath, he really shouldn't get so worked up - Like a greasy school boy that caught a glimpse of a teacher's underskirt. Not that he ever did that. He ignores how his pants grow a little tighter.

“You went to the bathroom to take nudes?” He reaches for a napkin to wipe his face. [Name] rolls her eyes, sipping the last of her drink.

“Lewds, Kaveh” She earnestly corrects him with a pout, rolling her eyes as if he should have known the difference. Seemed nude enough to him.

“What, you have a secret third partner you're not telling us about?” He teases her. [Name’s] pout grows into a playful scowl, gently shoving his shoulder.

“Yeah, and they’re way prettier than you~” She bites back with a smile, shaking her head and falling into a pit of giggles that Kaveh couldn't help but join in.

“Should I send them?” She leans back in, zooming in and out on the pictures she snapped.

“To your new plaything?” Kaveh smirks. [Name] groans dramatically.

“No- To ‘Haithem. ‘Wanna tease him..” She giggles and nods her head, eyes glinting in mischief. It could be fun, Kaveh muses. He could make a hobby out of getting on Alhaitham’s nerves - Respectfully of course, he still loved him after all. 

“Tease him? He won’t be happy when we get back.. Puppy” His voice drops low, eyebrow raised with a cheeky smirk. He notices her visibly shift, mouth turned in a downturned smile, eyes squinting back at him.

“All the better, no?” She comes back at him. Touche. “C’mon, lets go now~” She beckons under his chin, pressing her finger into his skin, lifting his head with a quick flick. If she asked him to get down on his knees and bark, he’d probably do it. Who’s the puppy now - It's Kaveh.

The pair leave the bar and stand on the sidewalk by the building, [Name] eagerly scrolls through her pictures, biting her lip in an attempt to conceal her grin. She asks for his opinion, and he opts for something a little more modest, with at least some of her clothes on for imaginative purposes. She rolls her eyes at him, saying Alhaitham couldn't picture the colour green let alone a human. The two come to a compromise, pick one each and send off the cute selfie with her lip stain on Kaveh’s cheek. 

Kaveh slips his hand in hers as they begin to make the walk home, not before letting Alhaitham know -  With a little treat attached.

Kaveh doesn't even have to press the call button, Alhaitham’s name pops up bright on his screen. [Name] giggles again, hanging off of Kaveh’s arm. He swipes the answer button, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Love” Kaveh, feigns innocence in his voice, flicking his eyes to the little minx next to him.

“Is [Name] with you?” Alhaitham’s voice is ever deadpan through the speaker, the man had a knack for indifference, but Kaveh could see through it every time.

“Of course-” Kaveh starts before being hastily cut off.

“Good. Put her on please.” He sounds tense. Not the angry I'm about to blow tense. The other tense. Still about to blow - Just in an all new fashion. Kaveh masks a laugh with a sigh, handing over the phone to his other-other half. Third? He hands his phone to [Name].

“Nawhhh ‘Haitham do you miss us?” She opens the call with a sweet voice, swinging Kaveh's arm as they walk the dusky city streets. Kaveh strains to hear Alhaitham's droning voice, crackling through the speaker pressed to his beloved's ear, muffled and illegible. He can only listen to [Name], hearing half of their conversation through her replies- not that she said anything other than; various versions of 'mmhm'.

"Uhuhh~ oh? really?... Yeah..?" Her tone of voice steadily becomes more sultry with every word she speaks. A tingle runs down Kaveh's tummy, right into his groin. Curse the effect this wretched witch - his beloved beautiful girlfriend - Had on his body. He intakes a deep breath of city air, trying to keep vigilant of their surroundings, half purposely ignoring their call to calm the ache in his pants.

“Just can’t wait until we get home, huh..?” [Name] continues, voice suddenly sobered up. For some reason it turns him on more, being half ignored between their heated ministrations. He can only imagine what Alhaitham could be saying, and it riles him up all the more. The anticipation of what's waiting for him at home doesn't help - He knows what Alhaitham is like. If they fuck around, they’ll definitely find out. The consequences will be laid out for them. Regardless of who starts it, Alhaitham ends it.

Kaveh is jolted out of his running thoughts by a tug on his arm. [Name] leads him on with a giggle, down a street or two, right into a secluded passage nestled between two apartment buildings. Kaveh reels his head together, coming to so quick he swears he gives himself whiplash. [Name] presses her glossy lips to his own, pashing him loud and wet right into the receiver of the phone. Kaveh’s head was reeling, crotch most definitely bulging at the seam of his pants. He hears a faint groan through the phone, just as [Name] bites down on his plump lips, eliciting his very own keening noise.

She pulls off of him, lips wet with a sticky string of saliva, still connecting their lips together. He watches it glisten under the dim street light, snapping and joining the slick gloss adorned on her lips. His girl bites at his neck, huffing little giggles as she sinks her teeth into his milky flesh. Gods he can barely keep quiet, whimpering softly, fluttering his pretty carmine eyes closed. There's a scuffle over the line, a sound of fabric shifting through the speaker of the phone.

“Kaveh” There's a sweet whisper in his ear, sending the most delicious shiver down his spine, nearly making his knees weak. He finds the voice, his darling girlfriend, eyes full and swimming with something he was all too familiar with. There's a short beep and a phone is stuffed into his hands, video call on, camera faced to the ground. Alhaitham’s face is on the screen, brows scrunched up, eyes searching the dark picture of the video.

“Make sure I look pretty” [Name] bites her lip with a giggle, trying to mask her cheeky smile. Gods didn't she always, it was near impossible for her not to be. She lowers herself to the dirty concrete floor of the alleyway, hands already easing into the loops of Kaveh’s pants. He's hyper aware of their surroundings - distant chatterings of drunk party goers, the beaming lights of a taxi driving by. His eyes strain at the bright phone screen, nearly fumbling to keep the video steady.

“Watch him.. Make sure he touches himself~” [Name] purs against the bulge in his pants. Alhaitham watches closely as she fumbles with Kaveh’s button, unzipping his pants. She hooks her fingers into his waistband, clenching her palms into the fabric as she pulls them down his frame. Kaveh hisses, feeling the hot pressure of his trousers become replaced by a cool spike of air. [Name] fingers into his briefs on her way down, revealing the soft skin of his groin to the video. With a giggle she fully releases him, his pretty cock slaps into his tummy with a soft noise, leaving a sticky bead of pearlescent pre on his dress shirt. He hears a crackled moan through the phone speaker and his eyes are on Alhaitham. The man bites at his lip, squeezing the base of his thick length, face slowly being overconsumed by a warm red blush.

Kaveh can't decide where to look - Past the phone and down at his pretty girl? Or into the video feed on Alhaitham’s shaky camera angle. He fails to decide when he feels a hot huff of breath on his cock. [Name] kisses at his flushed pink tip, smearing the last of her sticky lip gloss all over his velvety head. Kaveh’s mouth falls open, eyes squinting down at the pretty girl below him. His grip on the side of the phone tightens as he captures her licking her tongue flat on the underside of his length, sending a hot pulse right into Kaveh’s achy cock. He bites back a soft moan, eyes already getting bleary and teary. Gods he was sensitive, and didn't she know it. He eyes Alhaitham’s expression, his lips parted ever so slightly, teeth biting into the side of his cheek. He watches as the usually stoic man breaks ever so delicately. It's something Kaveh had come to absolutely relish.

Kaveh nearly cries, his sensitive tip suddenly engulfed by the pretty girl on her knees, kissing at the back of her eager throat. She swallows around him, gagging hot over his pretty cock, forcing fresh tears to bubble in her eyes. Gods she looked almost pornographic. Mascara already beginning to turn into a black liquid mess under her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks. She drools over his cock, taking him back and forth, always swallowing his flushed tip down her warm throat. She eyes the phone camera, raising a brow she pulls off of his length, blowing a cheeky kiss towards Alhaitham. 

“Wish you were here~” She mockingly pouts at the man on the phone, eagerly taking Kaveh back down her throat. Kaveh keens out loud, moaning high from his throat with his head tilted back into the rough, graffitied brick wall. Gods she was rough, rougher than she ever was with him, was she teasing them? Showing Alhaitham exactly what he was missing out on? Was this how she took his cock? Rough and dirty and eager - Completely unlike the soft, doting way she wraps her lips around his own cock. Alhaitham crunches his brows, front teeth clenched with his lips parted in a scowl, Kaveh watches him stroke his thick length, the flushed velvet tip barely coming into the frame of the video.

“Makin’ a mess of yourselves in public huh? Trying to tease me? Better not come back here… If you know what's good for you..” Alhaitham’s voice babbles through the phone, playing along with [Name’s] little game. They all knew exactly what would transpire the second they walked through the door. It only eggs [Name] on further. It's her turn to moan, garbling around Kaveh’s long, pretty length as she takes him. She makes a show of sinking down on Kaveh, kissing at the base of his length, pretty eyes gazing up into the camera. Her mascara was running, pooling down her cheeks as she looked up at Alhaitham, purposely going out of her way to show him up. There's that feeling again, the burn in his tummy as he’s caught between their teasing, their little toy to rile each other up.

Gods it's nearly too much, Alhaitham’s eager shake of his shoulder as he jerks himself off, on show for only Kaveh to see. His cock aches and tenses as [Name] takes him down, rocking her whole body into him, suckling at him sweetly before fucking him with her throat. He cant take his eyes off of them, albeit blurred form the little pin pricking tears that well up in the corners of them. He stares through the phone screen, through the little square on the phone, eyes darting between [Name] and Alhaitham.

“[Name]... Haitham- [Na-].. Won't last..!” Kaveh’s hand wobbles, he was quickly certainly becoming the worst cinematographer in the world. [Name] rakes her palms over his cool, milky skin, caressing him with some ounce of her usual softness she leaves for him. A hot shiver runs straight into his groin, he can't help but thrust his hips forward, spearing his tip down her eager throat. She keens around him, swallowing hard on him, taking him deeper and faster his brain could barely keep up. 

“Gonna come? Poor baby's gonna come..? Look at what you've done [Name].. Dragging poor Kaveh into your little game..” Alhaitham’s voice mocks them through the phone. That's right.. Poor Kaveh.. All caught up between their silly game. His eyes work double time trying to focus on the two, Alhaitham’s looney expression, slightly pixelated from the horrendous phone reception in the small walls of the corridor. [Name’s] eager expression, lips wrapped around his cock, lead and wet and slobbery. He throws his head back, he couldn't bear to watch them, lest he make a mess of himself. 

He feels a hand on him, cupping at his balls, tender and ticklish - He feels himself tense, embarrassed at the man watching and hearing him through the phone, coming close from the pretty girl drooling over his cock. Gods, his brain was running overtime, absolutely reeling at everything it could. The flickering light above them, the headlights that stopped for far too long for his liking, the dripping pipe to his right. The warm engulf of his pretty girlfriend’s mouth around his aching cock, the usually aloof man in his phone, staring right at his groin with his own cock in his hand.

Kaveh’s cheeks burn, his balls ache and cock tenses hard. Gods, he was done for, unable to reel in the spike in his groin. His free hand comes down to his girlfriend’s hair, threading through the strands in an attempt to have her slow down. She manages to giggle, pushing past his attempt and suckling ever so sweetly against his hot tip. Kaveh whines and keens out loud, hiccupping in hot embarrassment, eyes finally allowing the warm tears to streak down his cheeks. He thrusts, he can't help it, giving in to [Name’s] pleasure, taking her mouth with his cock as Alhaitham watches through the camera. God he was sure he would never live this down, but he couldn't care - Not when his sweet girlfriend looks so pretty on his cock, not when Alhaitham chants through the speakers, commanding him to let go, to come for him.

Kaveh throws his head back, knocking his skull into the hard wall. He moans with an open mouth, spit hot on his tongue as his cock twitches hard. He can barely make out a short ‘Cumming-!’ before his sticky mess coasts [Name’s] tongue. He cums thick, milky ropes, whimpering as she suckles sweetly on him, edging all of his sweet, sticky cum out of him. Her tongue rolls over his achy slit, lapping up the pebbling spurts of cum that pulse from his cock.

[Name] makes a cheeky show of lapping at his pretty cockhead, tongue coated in his milky cum, smearing it all over himself. She sticks her tongue out for the camera, for Alhaitham to see, hot and milky, nearly dribbling off of her. She giggles and suckles at his swollen tip, swallowing around his overstimulated cock, earning a hot whine from his throat. [Name] stands from the dirty concrete, knees flushed and covered in a mystery dust. She snatches the phone from Kaveh, pulling him into a filthy, spitty kiss, swapping his creamy mess between them. She makes sure Alhaitham’s watching, peering her eyes to the side, seeing Kaveh’s fucked out, flushed face in the corner square as she kisses into him. Kaveh knew he surely looked a mess, lips swollen and teeth bitten, nose red with blush, eyelashes wet and stuck together. He can't bear to look.

Alhaitham practically growls, surely cumming in his own palm as he watches them swap Kaveh’s sweet, salty mess. He babbles, telling them that they’re filthy, they're in for it, pretty little things couldn't even keep to themselves. No wonder, he can barely keep himself from them regardless. [Name] pulls away first, nipping at Kaveh’s nose before turning to the man on call.

“Muah! Love you Haitham~ See you soon” She cheekily bites her lip, hastily shutting off the video call before the man could even get a word in. she crouches down, helping Kaveh re-dress himself. Oh the shame, he cannot bear to leave the sanctuary that is the dusty alleyway. His tummy flips at the idea of coming home to Alhaitham, maybe he could worm his way out? He was a victim - Just a bystander! The phone buzzes again, and [Name] giggles, shutting off the ringer and taking Kaveh’s hand into her own.

“C’mon~ Haitham is waiting~” She plants a hot kiss to his lips before dragging through the street once again.

“I don't know if I wanna ever see him again after that..” Kaveh pouts dramatically, heart pulsing in anticipation as [Name] punches in their building code. Here goes nothing, he supposes.

Hi, hello, welcome to November 😔

We're truly holding on by a thread here girlies-

Lmk if you enjoyed! Idk how I feel about this one- also idk if I regret making those texts- sksksjsh tumblr wasn't formatting them in like wOrd form how I wanted so I, for some reason created my own lmaoo

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[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part three

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part - you and Aemond get to know one another.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist:The Black Dread < < < previous part, part two: read here > > > next part, part four: read here

word count: 4k+

note: ALL characters are aged up - they are NOT minors

warnings: it's not much!!! cursing, ye ol’ flirting without chaperones, temptation / feelings are hard, romance, small angst, eavesdropping, men being gossipy little cunts who talk shit, broken family dynamics, we see a little more into big!sister!reader, depiction of medical phenomenons to a child.

Monday -

Eyme had been your lady's maid for years now, to the point the pair of you had formed an intimate relationship. Granted, Alora had been your closest companion since childhood, Eyme was close to an additional guardian; a kind and sweet soul that helped guide you through life. This mornings, she stood behind you, brushing your hair, watching you in the vanity mirror as you could not hide the deepening thoughts that melted your brain.

Even if not so obvious, she could read you like a book.

"You ready for today, dearie?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, as I'll ever be," you mused, finding her gaze over your shoulder.

"Who is it you'll see today?"

"Prince Aemond. It's strange, you know? Picking between two Princes of the Realm when I was run out and humiliated during courting seasons at the Red Keep. What a rush, finding a husband the old fashion way; by being a bargaining chip in war," you mocked with a roll of your eyes.

She chuckled, securing the long, golden-red tresses, "No, the Gods were saving you for this moment. You'll turn the tides, my darling, in this war, in history, in the Targaryen lineage - "

"What does that mean?"

Eyme sighed, "We both know the rumors, darling girl. About the Black Queen's sons?"

You waved her off, "Oh, that's petty business - not our own."

"I'm just saying, you will change a lot of fates with your choice between the Princes."

"That's pressure I never imagined."

"You will make a handsome match to either," she assured softly. Eyme tied off your hair, fixed minimal make-up over your skin, and helped you dress in something comfortable with sensible shoes. Just outside your door, your usual household guardsman, Bryer, escorted you to your father's old office chambers to go over accounts for the day with Maester Keiff Foral.

It was there Aemond found you.

"I do not mean to interrupt," the Prince stopped short in the doorway, "I was a bit turned around - I can leave, if you could direct me - "

"No need, my Prince, please, come in," Maester Foral insisted, taking up several tomes and scrolls. "I'm on my way out, please sit. Could I send some tea up?"

"That would be nice, thank you, Maester," you agreed, shuffling a few accounts on the grand desk you sat at. "My Prince, I must apologize, unfortunately, being Lady of the House does not come with days off."

He hummed, "I understand that. Is now a bad time, my Lady?"

"No, you are most welcomed," you gestured him forward. "I need but a few moments to clean this up - "

"Take your time," Aemond smirked gently. "I had an idea, in fact, that might be of interest? Since you're in this clerical mindset?"

"Oh? I would like to hear it."

"Would you say you are proficient in High Valyrian? Being a Dragon Rider and all?"

You chuckled dryly, nodding, "Uh, well, no, I only know but a few words, and even those, I murder the pronunciation."

"Would you like to learn?"

"I need to," you nodded, "but it is also a personal desire of mine, yes."

"Is it too forward to ask if I could interest you in but a few lessons?"

There was a knock at the door as you left paperweights on the few stacks of parchment you had been reviewing, calling, "Come in!"

"My Lady," Eyme spoke softly, entering with a tray of tea, "Maester Foral sent me."

"Thank you, Eyme. But I think we might take this in the library, yes?" You asked Aemond, standing from your seat.

"Yes, if that's acceptable," he nodded, following your lead.

"Oh?" Eyme asked, scurrying out the door when Aemond held it open for you both.

"The Prince is kind enough to offer me lessons in High Valyrian."

"How nice," Eyme complimented, leading the way down the corridors. "Gods know you could use the lessons, she sounds like a drowning cat, my Prince - "

"I do not!"

"You have the attention span of a passing squirrel! It'd be a miracle if you could focus!"

Aemond found your relationship with 'the help' strangely cozy, something he wasn't sure how to feel about. He did not comment and instead smiled politely, but mostly just listened to the two of you bicker lovingly and wondering what kind of Princess of the Realm would speak so candidly to the commoners. The One-Eyed Prince reminded himself that the Tyrells weren't prominent in court and still considered 'low born', trying to cut you some slack when he accounted for your lack of royal decorum.

In the library, Aemond's nose turned up ever so slightly at the - by comparison to that of the Red Keep - minuscule space and minimal literary options. You and Eyme set up the tea at a table as he browsed the limited selection, doing his best not to literally pet a finger over the wood and through the dust. He heard you dismiss your handmaiden and asked over his shoulder, "Are you sure about these lessons, my Lady?"

"Why would I not be, my Prince? I ride a Dragon of Old Valyria, do I not?" You quipped.

"Yes, but it would appear your selection is vastly... Limited," he frowned, gesturing at the shelf he inspected. "It would seem you do not have... Anything on the subject at all."

"I've already pulled the literature," you told him smugly, his hair fanning around his shoulders as he turned to look at you in what appeared to be surprise. He discovered your fists on the table, candles arrayed for ample lighting, and stacks of books spaced out around you, the teapot, and cups.

"I see," He smirked in return, making his way back towards the table. "Is there a reason you've already arranged them?"

"In truth, I might be one of the few who frequents the library anymore," you shrugged, gesturing him to a seat. "And with my new acquaintanceship with Balerion, I've been the only one with need to refresh their memory on the histories of Valyria."

Aemond hummed and gazed over the spines of the books, nodding before making a selection. "I'm familiar with this volume. It's a good introduction," he opened the book with a rickety spine.

"That's been read," you eased, pointing to the pile he chose from, "those have all been read, actually."

"Very good," he nodded, storing his selection and turning for the other pile. You realized how much you liked his praise. "Anything you wish to disclose before we dive in?" The Prince distracted your rampant thoughts.

"I'm familiar with the histories, it's the language and pronunciations that I struggle with."

"It's not a language for the faint of heart."

"So I've discovered. I've oft heard it said immersion is the best educator, yet none in these parts can speak enough for me to practice with."

Aemond nodded, "Well... Should you choose to return with me to King's Landing, there's plenty to practice with."

"Oh?" You chuckled.

"Well... At least there's me," he purred, making a new selection and pulling the book closer. "Here we are," Aemond opened it, careful of the fragile pages. "This is good for what you need to know with Balerion."

You leaned forward on the table, smiling gently and listening intently; following his finger over the inked words on parchment as he began his lesson. In the candlelight, shadows contoured his face in an eerily handsome cast.

Wednesday -

It was difficult to remain so unbiased when both Princes were bringing their A-game; and it seemed, Aemond honed in on your lack of Targaryen experience to romance you with your birthrights. On Monday, Aemond had spent hours with you in the library, pouring over old tomes; patient in his lesson, trying to ensure you knew basic and important commands for when riding Balerion. And now, he was ushering you off the Keep's grounds to where the dragons were planted outside the gates.

"I must confess, I'm a bit nervous. Where are we going?" You laughed gently, the ground still slippery from early morning dew.

"For a flying lesson."

"Oh, no, no - I've only rode once and I'm fairly certain I blacked out for most of it."

"I can see why," Aemond mused, approaching the great ebony beast resting in the valley, "you don't even have a saddle, what terrible discomfort."

"Oh, well, I've sent ravens to King's Landing, asking any saddlery of his left be sent."

"Good," he praised, petting over the hand you had curled around his bicep. "He's... Larger than I would've imagined."

"He's a sweetie - " And of course, in that moment, Balerion lifted his head and bared his teeth in warning. You yanked Aemond to a halt, "But also conversationally temperamental."

"I was merely curious to see him with my own eyes," Aemond admitted. "He's greatly impressive."

You smiled, "Gorgeous, no?"

"I'd say."

"Did we come all this way to gawk at him, or...?"

"No, no," Aemond cleared his throat, "I thought perhaps I could tempt you into a flight on Vhagar. She's the closest thing in size and speed to Balerion, thought it might be good practice."

"You mean...?"

"By yourself? No, no, I'll be there, but yes, you'll need to know how to fly."

"I'm sure I could figure it out. Right?"

"If you'd like to take the chance," he agreed.

"All right," you took a breath and exhaled deeply. "All right, yeah, sure, let's do it." Balerion growled again, his eyes ablaze like the fire brewing in his chest; snorting in warning. In High Valyrian, you called, "Be calm, my friend."

"He's very protective of you," Aemond noted.

"As he should be," you smirked. You told your dragon, "We're visiting with Vhagar, be still. We'll be back."

After The Black Dread grumbled and lowered his head, the Prince offered his arm, "Right this way, Lady Tyrell."

You chuckled and let Aemond lead you upward, Balerion's growl vibrating the ground you ascended to hike out of the crater. You made idle chitchat as you walked, learning about his family unit and his influence in this war - but he seemed to shut down around that subject, so, you steered away.

Vhagar was impressive in size, but in earnest, a fraction of your beast. She was a sleepy old lady, Aemond rousing her with words you now understood and repeated after him - per his direction. You laughed, "You're a thorough educator."

"You're a dedicated student."

Sharing a smile, you watched him encourage his dragon into consciousness; telling her they were going for a fly and to behave. Carefully, Aemond showed you how to climb the rope ladder to mount Vhagar's saddle, giving a small but genuine chuckle when you teetered for balance and he needed to stabilize you. Together, with Aemond sat close behind you, showed you the ways in which a Targaryen Dragon Rider could control and hold onto their mount. He latched you to the saddle for safety and then himself; pressed so close, it was surely indecent.

Before anything could be said, Aemond was encouraging Vhagar to her feet. "Gods be fucking good!" You yelped at the sensation, grabbing onto the arm Aemond anchored your waist with. "Oh, fuck, okay, yeah, all right, this is fine," you muttered, nodding as you forced yourself to get used to the fact that you were a Dragon Rider now - an elite group amongst those who even ruled the Realm.

"You're all right," Aemond muttered in your ear. "I've got'yah." You gulped a little when Vhagar shook out her sleepy hide. "Ready?" He asked, repeating himself in High Valyrian.

You agreed in the same Tongue, "Ready."

Within moments, Vhagar was taking off over the grounds and into the air. You gasped shrilly and held on where Aemond placed your hands, trying to remember what he taught you - but every rational thought was out of your head in that moment. "Open your eyes," Aemond chuckled, hot breath fanning your neck and cheek, "a Dragon Rider must be alert at all times, open your eyes, my Lady."

"Oh, this is fucking scary," you breathed, doing as he said and letting your eyes pop open.

"What a mouth on you," he teased.

"We're in the bloody air! There's no place for decency up here!" You squealed, calming down enough to pant lightly and take in the sights around you. "Oh, wow... Wow, would you look at this..."

"Gorgeous, no?" He teased your words from earlier.

"Just - wow," you could only answer, Vhagar leveling out to flap her wings lazily.

"Vhagar," he commanded in High Valyrian, "higher."

You held onto the saddle as the dragon soared into the clouds, making you giggle a little from the strange sensation of flying through them; Aemond smiling against the shell of your ear. When you broke the seam of clouds, the sun was rising at the perfect moment to give you a shining display of brilliant blues, pinks, oranges, and yellows all painted in the sky and clouds.

"Hold here," Aemond instructed through the flight. "Lean left." "Lean back." "The dragon and rider must bond, they'll take verbal command." "Use this reign when in a fight - this one for altitude - hold here for casual cruising."

You soaked up his words like a sponge.

"Remember to breathe," his words tickled your ear, large hand splayed on your waist. "Keep your heels down, planted - like a horse, good, good, that's good."

Your head turned to watch his other hand 'check' your legs, ensuring they were in the right position on the saddle. When his gaze lifted, it was almost too natural for your foreheads too meet and press together. "It's improper..." You whispered, "But I feel the innate desire to kiss you, I think."

"Perhaps it's only improper beneath the clouds. There's no place for decency up here, right?"

You chuckled, "Right, but it's still improper of me as an unmarried lady no matter if above or below the clouds. I will resist, I'm sorry for voicing such desires."

"Don't apologize," he whispered, both content to simply be for a moment, "it's something I want to do as well."

"Looks like we're both being tempted," you tisked, pulling back. "Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Of course."

"What does life look like if your side is victorious in this war?"

Aemond pondered for a moment, offering, "I cannot say. Though, my brother is but a puppet."

"And you the master?"

"Amongst others, I suppose," He admitted, though it stuck in your mind. "Though, I suppose, life would be simple enough with Aegon on the Throne - there'd be no further challenge to his seat. We would live as comfortably as possible."

You hummed and decided to test your new knowledge. Picking up the right rope-reign, you commanded in High Valyrian, "Back to the Keep, Vhagar."

"Very good," Aemond chuckled, then repeating your command - as his dragon didn't listen to anyone other than him. Once on the ground, Aemond walked you through proper landing skills and then the dismount by unhooking all belts and climbing off the rope ladder.

Once safely away from his dragon, you chuckled, "Is it like that every time?"

"Like what, my Lady?"

"The rush? The adrenaline?"

"I'll let you know if it ever wears off."

You were beginning to think you'd have to 'let him know' if your budding affection for him ever began to 'wear off'. The One-Eyed Prince escorted you back into the Keep.

Saturday -

The Tullys House words were, "Family, Duty, Honor," and while you were a Tyrell and Targaryen, you held these words dear to your chest. You would always place your family above your duty and honor; your duty above yourself.

The night prior, your little brother began showing signs that he was starting an "episode", the kind term to his "fits". It worried you, but there was little to be done for now; so you told the staff to alert you to any changes he might have. You had plans to see Aemond one last time, so you left them directions on where to find you.

You were exhausted by the week's events; where your duties didn't stop, you were entertaining the Princes, and playing mother to a child not yours - though, that, you wouldn't give up or exchange for the world.

Still, you made an effort to visit with the Princes after their effort to travel to Highgarden.

Family. Duty. Honor.

So, the pair of you met in the lush gardens of your home, showing the Prince the vast array of different vegetation your family could boast. You spoke of little things from your youth to aspirations later in life; from favorite foods to how war might affect your marriage. All good things, all proper logistics needed considered before committing to lifelong matrimony. The peace shattered when Eyme came sprinting through the gardens, "My Lady! My Lady!"

"We're here," You turned immediately, Aemond's brow furrowing. "What is it?" You demanded when the handmaiden was within sight.

"It's - It's Ryden, my Lady, it's your brother - "

"I have to go, I'm so sorry," you bid Aemond, patting his arm as you disentangled yours from his. "I'm so sorry, my Prince, but my brother needs me. Please, en-enjoy the gardens! The fruits are edible, you must try them! I'm so sorry, again!"

He didn't get to answer as you intercepted Eyme and started up the path she had come barreling down. Aemond stood there, dumbfounded, blinking in shock before scoffing gently. He didn't even remember hearing what the problem was, only that it was something with your brother - then you were leaving. Without a thought, no other information requested. Aemond found this response dramatic as he returned to his guest chambers.

Later that evening, when your brother was safe in bed and under the watchful eye of Maester Keiff Foral, you decided you owed Prince Aemond an apology and explanation. You decided to seek him out in his guest chambers, sending for a reserve of sweet Dornish wine; approaching the cracked door when voices spilled into the hall in an echo.

Unfamiliar booming laughter accused, "Perhaps the Tyrells have taken a page from the Targaryens! And they love one another deeply! Too deeply!"

"Oh, please," Aemond was heard, "it was more panic than anything. It begs the question why she is caring for a child not her own? Am I foolish to think the Lady's reaction was extreme? Dramatic?"

"No, it sounds as if it was," the voice of Aemond's household guardsman, Criston Cole, was heard - possibly indicating the two were alone. "But women usually are, my friend. Why would the Lady Tyrell be different?"

"Her beauty might give her a pass," Aemond mused, "though, little else. Should hear the way she speaks to the castle staff, Cole, it's as if they're friends."

"Once she's out of her element, she'll calm down and depend on you, my Prince, she'll come to follow the rules. Then, I suppose all that's left is to thank the Targaryen whores for such a pretty bride," Cole snickered.

"How's that?"

You were repulsed by what you were hearing yet could not walk away, intrigue rooting your feet.

"You heard your mother," Cole lamented in amusement, "the Vanished Princess was granddaughter of Old King Jaehaerys, sister of the Queen Who Never Was."

"Mhm," Aemond agreed.

"She broke off her engagement to a Northern Lord, married some Tyrell instead, and was overlooked in favor of Viserys. But before that, she was disinherited and became a whore, all promiscuous and rebellious. At least Lord Tyrell managed to wrangle her in, right? Saddle such a ridden filly?"

"Unless you believe the rumors that say the Vanished Princess was pregnant already and Lord Tyrell raised the bastard as his own out of the goodness of his heart. Or that he was infertile, a eunuch, the rumors are vast - "

Cole cut Aemond off, "It still gives Lady Tyrell Dragon Blood, and we need her dragon, my Prince. So, bastard or not, we need Balerion on our side, it's in the Realm's best interest you cast aside your prejudice and conclude romancing her."

"She makes her decision tomorrow."

"So go to her tonight."

Your face pulled in a look of disgust, stepping back a few steps and loudly approaching. You knocked heavily on the door, letting it swing open further to reveal yourself to the two scheming bastards. Your hand discreetly held up to halt Eyme before she was in view, intercepting the decanter of Dornish wine before it could be delivered.

"My Lady," Cole jumped to his feet.

"No, please, don't get up, I will not be long," You spoke diplomatically, waving the guardsman back to his seat. "I merely wished to offer my apologies to the Prince again, explain what caused me to leave in such a dramatic fashion."

The two didn't seem to pick up on your choice of words.

"As most of the Realm knows, my father has been sickly for quite sometime and as his firstborn, his responsibilities fall unto me. My father is now fully disabled and bound to a bed, but for years, he's been friendly with Death. He's not long for this world, and without our mother, I am all my brother has. He's just a boy of 10, named Ryden. When he was about 7, he fell from a tree and hit his head, where now, he suffers from some affliction that gives him what we call 'episodes' or 'fits'. Any could be his last and it takes a team to pull him out of them. I apologize for my abrupt departure earlier, my Prince, but Ryden began having symptoms last night and I knew today could get bad; so I wanted to be there - since he has nobody else."

Family. Duty. Honor.

"Oh," Aemond blinked, slowly standing from his seat, "no, no, my Lady, please, do not apologize. Is your brother all right?"

"I appreciate the concern - yes, he's all right now. I have assigned a trusted few to the nightshift in preparation for the morrow. I trust your company will be present?"

"Of course," Cole agreed, looking rightfully shellshocked.

"Right. Then, goodnight, I shall see you both tomorrow afternoon."

Aemond might've opened his mouth to stop you, but you were rushing from the room and shutting the chamber door with a loud, reverberating clang. It was your silent way of saying, 'That's how you close a fucking door!'

You seethed against the wood for a moment, feeling your lip authentically twitch in pure rage; movement catching in your peripheral and alerting you to another presence.

It was Eyme, still holding the wine.

Swiftly, you lifted a silencing finger to your lips and ushered her back several feet. She followed suit, hustling along your side when you changed direction to head for your chambers instead. You were huffing and puffing with exertion when you reached your private salvation, facing Eyme in anguish as tears filled your eyes.

"What did I miss?" She asked softly.

"Much I care not to repeat."

"If you do to me, you need not to anyone else."

You mulled over her words, nodding along. "You knew my mother, didn't you, Eyme?" You asked instead.

Your handmaiden set the wine to a table and sighed, "Aye, I did. I adored the woman, we knew one another in youth and she brought me here when she married your father."

"Would you pour a glass?"

She nodded and did as bid, handing you the chalice; pausing, then pouring her own. Eyme deflated into one of your armchairs, asking, "Why do you ask, poppet?"

You gulped about half the wine, swallowing bitterly. "I think I wish to address rumors of her... I know what I wish to say, would you help me write it out? Tell me what I missed?"

"What brought this on? What did you hear Prince Aemond say?"

"For that, we'll need more wine," you muttered, going to open your door to flag a passing maid as Eyme gathered parchment and a quill with ink.

It was a long, sleepless night.

< < < previous part, part two: read here

> > > next part, part four: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread series masterlist

[voidcat]

characters: you/imaushi wakasa, sano shinichiro...

a/n: angst lol. strangers to friends. themes of fwb but nothing explicit. switch of perspective. mcd obviously,,

as i said in this post the loose explanatio/beginning of an idea i had that i liked ALOT but couldnt write due to various reasons (esp lck of time) (open post for a lil further stuff for reader x wakasa ig,,,)

attending the same classes as shinichiro sano... you've heard of him alright but that's about it. a nice face to look at perhaps but a little odd. not someone you'd interact with occasionally, nor someone you'd remember in particular-

until you're paired with him for an assignment. it'll help build bonds between the lot of you! the teacher announces and everyone groans in unision

you shoot your new partner to be a look from where you stand and turn back to your notebook. the ring bells but by the time you can get up adn gather your stuff, sano is nowhere to be seen

it takes you hours to find him. and at possibily one of the worst times too.

you heard of the rumors about fights and deliquents but you didn't expect yourself to run into one. youre careful, you live a peaceful life, you avoid trouble, always keep a clean name and all-

the people around all battered and beaten up, covered in bruises, cuts and maybe blood, looking hungry, unsatisfied, maddened– and you're in the center of it all.

footsteps approach you, strong, stern, taking their time and all- you hold it in you to not turn for a look. wait for them to show their face at your feet, dont give them the satisfaction nor even the slightest sign of weakness.

a man with blond hair and a pretty face, long lashes and all, stands before you, looking almost a little amused. "what's a pretty little thing doin' here all by themselv-" "where's sano" you cut him midsentence.

the man looks baffled, a little offensed even. soon joined by a second figure a lot taller than him, they both look at you with hostility and a hint of curiosity.

who cares, you scoff internally, whatever intimidation they're going for, you won't fall for it.

the other man raises a brow at the way you've mentioned sano. shit, you do hope this was not the wrong place, or whatever fight went down there, they must've won... right?

"and who is asking?" the blond speaks up again, sounding a little annoyed now. "you know, we don't allow passes to every pretty thi-" "eeeew" you drag the word and scretch like a gum, making sure to put on a face. "none of your business actually." you add on, placing your hand against a hip.

"why, you-" before he can follow up with whatever's on his tongue, a jolly greeting from behind interrupts him, cutting through the air. you can notice how the idle folks around suddenly tense up, and for the two man before you, shoulders dropped, bodies relaxing...

soon sano emerges, with his hair put up and stylized, nothing like the man in your class, a deliquent out of a shitty teen's magazine you'd say so.

exhanging greets with the two men and doing a special handshake for only them to know, he looks in the mood, just his face a little bruised up and some blood on his clothes.

so that's probably why he skips school some days, you muse.

he notices you a little later.

"oh!" mouth formed into an 'o' shape, you can see his surprise written all over but he is quick to disperse all that." greeting you with your surname formally, he reaches out a hand, then brings it up upon noticing the splatters of blood and takes it back with a sheepish smile.

"what brings you there?" he asks, never losing a bit of his joy that contradicts the entire atmosphere.

"our assignment." you say curtly and receive another sound of surprise from him. he looks apolegitic at the very least, you think.

"well.. uh-" he scratches the back of his head, casting a glance around, you wait to see where the stammering will go.

"how would you wanna do it then?" he asks more for you than himself, to ease you probably, you can only assume.

another joins their little group, keeping silent and watching what's going on. you relly, really should get going, you decide after giving a quick look around. "we can go over the details at an appropirate time later."

"alright then!" he says, never missing a beat from his energy. it's unbelievable, you think. "should we... ah-" he pauses, "exchange numbers to keep in touch then?" he asks, and he means well, you can tell just from the way he looks and talks, but the rest? you're not exactly dying to say out loud your contact information. especially not with that blond anywhere within a 20 meter radius.

"here." you say, reaching out your hand to reveal your phone. "i'm not announcing my number for a bunch of weirdo, self proclaimed deliquents to hear."

your words take him by shock but he breaks into a snort right after. the two men exchange a glance and a thug at their lips as well. the blond however does not look once pleased with your words.

or you at all.

you begin to come and go to their place often, the assignment builds up slow but steady and the guys seem reasonable enough after actually sitting down and hearing each other out. shin looks happy with the development too, says you have brought a change but you'd disagree. he is the light and sun and the beating heart of this place and wherever he goes, they follow, absolute devotion and belief in him, as a person, for his mind and for his heart.

you can see why, you can feel it too. once you begin to spend your time with shinichiro sano, all the rumors and speculations you've heard up until then are gone. assignment be damned, you can tell when a friendship begins to bloom and with shin- it happens at such a pace, you find yourself a little afraid.

the assignment ends, presentation and all, with flying colors you pass and decide to celebrate it out, with the rest joining as well.

a karaoke bar is all fun and games until night rolls out. it has gotten late but shin offers to walk you home; keizo and takeumi dragging a very drunk and messed up wakasa. everyone bids one another goodbye- save for wakasa... and you almost believe youhave seen a hint of sadness in their eyes as they bump their fists against yours. if you didn't know any better, you'd ever go as far as to say they'll miss you around.

a day passes, another and another... much to their relief and encouragement, you stick around.

not within the vicinity on the days big fights go around but definitely dropping by to hang out, fool around and whatnot. it's now your laughter mixed with shin's that fills the air, and everyone seems joyful and happy most of the time- save for imaushi wakasa.

for reasons unbeknowst to you, he remains hostile, rude, and on and up about sending your way stupid lines like he did the first time. most of the time you ignore him, which annoys him further– the scene alone brings a smile to your lips, the smirk of a vixen, you even overhear him once, yelling to keizo about you are, sounding very much frustrated.

despite this is how the things begin and roll out, neither of you expect to grow close- closer than you'd have imagined.

yes, you and shin might be the sunshines, but you and wakasa? the two of you become inseperable. you even hear some people mumble how they fear the two of you looking down at them, gazes that burn holes through their skulls, see into their souls... the two of you could make a power couple- if you were one at all.

there is the heat, there is the tension. you comb through his hair with a gentle touch that has wakasa melting in your hold, yet the second someone dares to imply anything more, you shoot them a glance so heavy, it'd crash their lungs.

wakasa hopes, in the end, that perhaps there is an end to it that is happy, that is hopeful. he knows there is no making up for the way he treated you but you were not the kindest toward him either, so it makes you equals, no?

so he sings sappy songs at karaoke whilst tipsy, so any accusation he can brush off as the effect of the booze, but hopes you caught how he looked at you. so he touches you as soft as you do him, trying to mimic your kindness, an attempt at how love, in the physical, in action should be.

he doesn't know any better, why should he? why should anyone to begin with?

it scares him how natural it is for shin and you. some days he finds himself envying the two of you even, would things be any different were you to attend the same school as the two of you? oh what wouldn't he do to be graced with your smiles and giggles all day every day, having you look at him as you rest your cheek against your palm–

he aches for something a tad normal sometimes, at the very least with you. would the two of you ever cross paths were it not for shin? the thought scares him and he feels like an asshole for envying his friend like this, desperate for anything that would come from your hands.

but at the end of the day, it is himself you seek out. his arms that you allow around your person, his lips on you, devoring you, it's wakasa that consumes you wholly and the thought brings a wave of comfort at the very least.

then the entire world collapses down in the span of 24 hours.

shinichiro dies.

almost 24 hours have passed since his death and wakasa still cannot find it in him to return to reality yet.

then like an angel amidst the chaos, you reemerge from the fog, from smoke. it doesn't take a genius to figure out something is wrong.

"waka," you call out to him, sound laced with something he cannot quite pinpoint. shutting his eyes completely, he sits in the same spot for a moment, all the doubts, every single negative, twisted and fucked up thng he has been holding at bay til now so close to breaking out.

you speak, but he does not hear the words.

not pass the 'i am leaving'

[mxtxfanatic]

Best Didi Wen Ning

When we are introduced to "The Ghost General," he is a mindless weapon under the control of the Yiling Patriarch:

The name “Ghost General” was of the same kind as “Yiling Laozu.” It was a name of evil, known far and wide. No one was ignorant of these names, and often, they were spoken side by side. The words referred to only a single thing. The Yiling Laozu Wei Ying’s right hand man, the tyrant’s blood-stained hound,5 the tiger’s cruel teeth and savage claws, the bringer of chaos, who could tear open the heavens and bury its pieces inside the earth.

—Chapt. 9: Pride IV, fanyiyi

When we are introduced to Wen Qionglin at the earliest moment in the timeline, he is a timid teen, suppressed in the QishanWen by his nervous stutter and inability to defend himself:

It was likely that Wen QiongLin had never shot an arrow in front of other people. He was shaking all the way from his arm to his fingertips. The arrow flew out. It didn’t even land on the target. The Wen Sect’s people that watched from aside all laughed mockingly, “How is this good?!” “I can shoot better than this with my eyes closed.” “Okay, okay, stop wasting time. Let’s quickly pick somebody to enter the arena!” Red seeped through Wen QiongLin’s face to even the bottom of his ears. There was no need for others to beckon him away; he fled self-consciously.

—Chapt. 59: Poisons, exr

When we are introduced to Wen Ning as a person, we are given someone who is undeniably loyal and loving. The first thing he does upon regaining consciousness from Xue Yang's needles is apologize to Wei Wuxian for the other man's ending in his first life:

The long lashes trembled slightly, and a shallow furrow appeared between the man’s brows, making him appear somewhat uneasy. Wei Wuxian retracted his claws and hopped out of the window, leaping between the branches near the rooftop a few times before landing on the ground. Right as he turned around, Wen Ning kneeled before him. “What are you doing?” Wei Wuxian asked. Wen Ning said nothing, hanging his head. “Do you have to speak to me this way?” Wei Wuxian said. “Gongzi, I’m sorry,” Wen Ning said quietly. “Fine.”

—Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

...which mirrors their very first meeting, where Wen Ning apologizes for "losing face" for Wei Wuxian by not performing well in from of the QishanWen disciples:

Wei WuXian chased after him, “Hey, don’t run! Uh... QiongLin-xiong right? Why are you running?” Hearing his name called from behind him, Wen QiongLin finally stopped. Head hanging low, he turned around. It seemed as though shame rippled from his head to his toes as he stammered, “... I’m sorry.” Wei WuXian mused, “Why are you telling me you’re sorry?” Wen QiongLin replied with guilt, “You... You recommended me... but I made you lose face...”

—Chapt. 59: Poisons, exr

But what I find most wonderful about how Wen Ning is written is that his loyalty and love isn't only portrayed in the above characteristics—that could easily be misconstrued to say that he is only a follower—but also in how he does not play about Wei Wuxian. For the simple kindness of believing in his archery skills, encouraging him to try out for the competition, and offering advice, Wen Ning put his life on the line to help Wei Wuxian in the aftermath of the fall of Lotus Pier:

Wei WuXian, “How did it make me lose face? You haven’t really shot in front other people, have you? You were nervous?” Wen QiongLin nodded. Wei WuXian continued, “Have some confidence. Let me tell you the truth—you shoot better than everyone in your sect. Out of all of the disciples whom I’ve seen, no more than three people are better in archery than you.” ... Face unchanging, [Wei Wuxian] continued, “Really. There isn’t anything to be nervous about, to be honest. You’ll get used to it after practicing a few more times in front of other people. Next time, you’ll definitely impress everyone.” ... Wei WuXian encouraged him a couple of times and touched on a few areas of growth, correcting some miniscule problems that he had when he was shooting in the garden. Wen QiongLin listened so attentively that he didn’t even turn his eyes away, nodding uncontrollably.

...

As he was thinking, Wen Ning spoke, “Young Master Wei, are you here to save Young Master Jiang?” Wei WuXian’s fingers curled slightly. He spoke in a cold voice, “What do you think?” For some reason, Wen Ning smiled nervously, “I knew it. I... I can help you get him out of there.” For a split second, Wei WuXian thought that he had heard wrong. He was shocked, “... You? You’ll help me get him out?!” Wen Ning, “Yeah. R-right now, I can take him out really quickly. Wen Chao and the others happened to have gone out!” ... Wei WuXian licked his chapped lips, speaking in a dry voice, “... Then... could you... could you help me... take the bodies of Sect Leader Jiang and Madam Yu...” Without him noticing, he had begun to stammer as well. Before he finished, he remembered that he was still seizing Wen Ning in a threatening posture. He quickly let him go, but he still left himself a way out. If Wen Ning began to run or shout as soon as he let him go, he’d split open Wen Ning’s skull at once. However, Wen Ning only turned around, his voice serious, “I... I’ll try my best.”

—Chapt. 59: Poisons, exr

And the most telling thing about the depth of Wen Ning's feelings for Wei Wuxian is the moments where he neither avoids eye contact nor stutters when speaking:

After a moment of silence, Wei Wuxian said, “What else have you heard?” “Jiang Cheng, Clan Chief Jiang, brought people to encircle and besiege the Burial Mounds. He killed you, sir.” “I have to clarify this. He didn’t kill me. I died because one of my techniques backfired.” Wen Ning finally lifted his eyes and looked at him directly. “But, Clan Chief Jiang, he clearly—"

—Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

Wei WuXian, “You saw me yesterday?” Wen Ning, “I-I did.” Wei WuXian, “You saw me but you didn’t tell anyone?” Wen Ning, “I won’t! I won’t tell anyone!” This was the rare sentence where he didn’t stammer. On top of that, his tone was so determined that it seemed like he was taking an oath.

—Chapt. 59: Poisons, exr

The object was Wei WuXian’s sword, Suibian. On the way, Wei WuXian tossed it everywhere due to it being too much of a hassle. In the end, he left it in Wen Ning’s care. Wen Ning held it as he spoke, “Pull it out.” His tone was firm, and his eyes determined. He had nothing of his previously blank look left. ... Wen Ning, “Take this sword and go to the banquet hall, to the training field, to anywhere you want and ask every single person you see to pull the sword out. See if any one of them can pull it out! And then you’ll know if I’m lying or not! Sect Leader Jiang—you, so driven of a person, have been comparing yourself to others your whole life, but you have to know that you never should’ve been able to equal him!”

—Chapt. 88-89: Loyalty, exr

For Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning was willing to go against his clan. For Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning is willing to put himself in harm's way. And for Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning is willing to reveal a secret he had promised to take to the grave, just to press home how good of a person Wei Wuxian is and how undeserving of his persecution he's been. Despite how often others try to reduce Wen Ning down to just another all-powerful weapon crafted by the Yiling Patriarch or a man too scared to fight for himself, Wen Ning uses his autonomy always to defend those he loves, regardless of what the rest of the world may think of him, and Wei Wuxian joined that rank by standing up for him at the cultivation conference. Thus for this, Wen Ning earns the best didi award.