#please please please never give up on your original stories

[fangdokja]

The sweetest kisses are often the most dangerous.

❤︎ Synopsis. Your best friend has always been your safe haven—until his touch lingers too long, his words drip with unspoken threats, and you realize too late that safety was never part of his plan.

♡ Book. World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Light Yagami x Reader

♡ Novella. In the Name of Love - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 7,794

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, abandonment issues, angst + tragedy, gaslighting

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. This is a request, but I have not yet fulfilled the full request (hence the lack of proof of request). This turned out better than I thought it would. No explicit stuff yet, but the subtly of it? Yeahh.

Once you finally became of age, it brought with it a new set of challenges—and some old, familiar dynamics. Light Yagami, your self-proclaimed best friend and eternal tormentor, had somehow grown into the golden child of your school. Teachers adored him, parents praised him, and students—especially the girls—flocked to him like moths to a flame.

You, on the other hand, remained firmly in your lane. A slacker by nature and a ‘loser’ by reputation, you floated through school just barely scraping by. Your grades hovered just above the failing mark, your desk was perpetually cluttered, and your teachers sighed in resignation every time you turned in a half-finished worksheet.

“How are you two even friends?” became a question whispered in every corner of the school.

———

Light, of course, handled his popularity with the effortless charm he’d always had. Girls left love notes in his locker, baked him cookies, and blushed when he smiled their way. He’d already received more confessions than most people would in a lifetime.

“Another one?” you’d ask flatly whenever he showed you a new letter, scrawled in pink ink and dotted with hearts.

“They’re very persistent,” he’d say with a smirk, tucking the letter away. “You jealous?”

“Not even remotely,” you replied, your attention already back on the handheld game console in your lap. “Have fun with your fan club, Your Highness.”

———

For a while, Light balanced his new relationships with his time spent with you. He’d date the occasional girl, give her his full attention for a while, then inevitably move on when the novelty wore off.

“Why do you even bother?” you asked once, sprawled on the grass during one of your cloud-watching sessions.

“Because it’s good practice,” he replied matter-of-factly, hands tucked behind his head as he stared at the sky.

“Practice?”

“For social dynamics,” he explained. “Understanding how people think, what they want, and how to navigate their expectations. It’s useful.”

“You sound like a robot,” you said, unimpressed.

Light smirked. “You’re just mad I’m right.”

———

When the girls dragged him away, as they often did, you were left to your own devices. You didn’t mind—at least, that’s what you told yourself. It wasn’t like you’d ever been the center of attention, anyway. Loneliness wasn’t new to you; it was just an old companion that came and went as it pleased.

You filled the time with your usual distractions: gaming, reading, cloud watching, and sketching mindless doodles in the margins of your notebooks. Sometimes, you’d overhear whispers about Light and his admirers, but you tuned them out.

“Why don’t you go after him?” someone asked you once, their tone half-curious, half-mocking.

You didn’t even look up. “Because I’m not an idiot.”

———

Despite the distance his popularity sometimes created, Light always found his way back to you. When the crowds cleared and the noise died down, it was the two of you again—two opposites bound by years of shared history.

One evening, as you both sat in your room playing video games, he glanced over at you and said, “You’re not mad about the other girls, right?”

“Why would I be mad?” you replied, not taking your eyes off the screen. “You’re Light Yagami, the golden child. Go do your thing. I’m good.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a small smirk, he said, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

No matter how far his orbit expanded, Light always seemed to come back to you. And though you’d never say it out loud, you were glad he did.

────────────

From Light Yagami’s perspective, life was predictable—and predictably successful. He was the golden child, the perfect student, the center of admiration. People hung on his every word, sought his approval, and envied his effortless excellence. For the most part, it was satisfying. Life unfolded as it should, meticulously planned and executed.

But then there was you.

His so-called best friend, the antithesis of everything he represented. Lazy, unmotivated, and perpetually on the fringes of mediocrity. Despite your differences, you were always there—silent, sarcastic, yet strangely dependable in a way he couldn’t quite define. It wasn’t something he thought about too often. You were just…you.

Until the day he noticed you staring.

———

It was during lunch, an ordinary afternoon where Light was half-listening to the chatter of his friends while methodically organizing his notes for the next class. His focus should’ve been on the conversation, but his gaze flickered to you, seated a few tables away as usual.

You were always in the corner, avoiding attention, engrossed in some book or game. But today, your attention wasn’t on the usual distractions. It was on him.

Not Light. Not one of his admirers. No, your focus was fixed on a scrawny, nervous wreck of a kid seated a few tables over.

The boy was all sharp angles and awkward movements, perpetually hunched over as though trying to shrink into himself. Light recognized him vaguely—a shy, nerdy kid who tripped over his own words whenever called upon. Nothing remarkable.

Yet, you watched him.

Not with mockery or disdain, but with something quieter, more intent. You weren’t laughing, whispering, or rolling your eyes like most people would. You just…observed.

It unsettled Light in a way he couldn’t immediately place.

———

Later, as he packed his bag and prepared for the next class, Light’s thoughts returned to that scene. He prided himself on his ability to read people, to predict their behavior and motivations. And yet, he had no explanation for your interest in that boy.

He brushed it off initially. What did it matter? You were free to stare at whoever you wanted.

But the image lingered, uninvited, in his mind: the distant look in your eyes, the way your usually indifferent demeanor softened just slightly.

He frowned, closing his notebook with a bit more force than necessary.

———

The following week, he started paying more attention. It was subtle—Light was nothing if not discreet—but he kept you in his peripheral vision whenever he could.

And there it was again.

That same quiet, almost contemplative look as you glanced at the boy in question.

Light found himself growing irritated, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. It wasn’t like he cared who you watched. You had your own life, and he had his.

So why did it bother him?

———

He thought back to the countless times he’d teased you about being jealous of his popularity, the playful smirk on his face as he’d waved off another confession or accepted a gift from yet another admirer. You never cared. Not once.

It had been mildly disappointing, in retrospect. He’d thought it might get a rise out of you, but you never so much as flinched.

Yet here you were, paying attention to some no-name boy like he was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Light’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. It didn’t make sense.

Not yet, at least. But Light Yagami didn’t like questions without answers.

He decided then and there that he’d find out what had caught your attention—and why it left him feeling so uncharacteristically unsettled.

────────────

Light never let himself get too attached to anything, at least not to the point where it would affect his plans. He had control over his emotions—he had to. And yet, as he watched you sit with Ethan, that crack in his composed facade began to form, slowly but surely.

It was subtle at first. The boy, Ethan, always seemed to be at the edges of Light's awareness, always there when Light was distracted by his admirers or lost in his own thoughts. But this was different.

You didn’t just sit with him. You spent time with him. You helped him with his homework. You joked around with him in the way you never did with anyone else. You went out of your way to keep him company at lunch, when no one else would. You, who had always kept your distance, kept your circle small—yet now you were investing time in him of all people.

And Light hated it.

There was no reason for it. It didn’t make sense. Ethan wasn’t even someone worth considering. He was shy, weak, and socially awkward. Everything about him screamed mediocrity, the kind of person who would never stand out, never make anything of themselves. So why? Why were you helping him? Why were you treating him like he mattered?

Light had always been the one to push you, to help you improve, to get you to rise above your own mediocrity. He'd worked tirelessly to shape you, to make you better. And now, here you were, giving that same attention—your valuable attention—to someone who didn’t even deserve it.

But then, as he continued to observe you two from the sidelines, the truth started to unfold, albeit in a way that made him recoil. He couldn’t stop it from clicking into place. You didn’t see Ethan for what he was now. You saw him for what you used to be.

He reminded you of yourself.

The realization hit Light like a wave. You hadn’t always been the person you were today—motivated, sharp, and at least somewhat capable. No, you’d been the same kind of outcast Ethan was now. Alone. Invisible.

And you saw a part of yourself in him, that small, quiet echo of who you used to be.

You wanted to help him. You had to help him.

Light would have expected a feeling of satisfaction, even a touch of flattery. After all, you cherished your experiences with Light enough to want to help someone like Ethan, someone who reminded you of the person Light had pulled you from. But it didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel warm or appreciative. It felt... cold. It felt harsh and bitter, like the sting of jealousy he’d never fully acknowledged before.

Why? Why was it this way? Why didn’t he feel proud that you were helping someone who could never repay you?

He hated it. He hated how it made him feel, how his thoughts twisted and spiraled into something darker.

———

Light tried to keep himself composed, but it was becoming more difficult. As the days passed, and he saw more of you with Ethan, that unease continued to eat at him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but it was growing harder to ignore.

If he confronted you about it, it would mean acknowledging something he wasn’t ready to face. Something he couldn’t process. He wanted to think it was just about Ethan. But deep down, Light knew it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t about the boy at all. It was about you—and the way you were slipping further away from him.

He was jealous.

It was ridiculous. He of all people, jealous of someone like Ethan?

But he couldn’t ignore it. It hurt.

So, he buried it. He buried it like everything else—like the ambition he’d always kept under wraps, like grand plans where he couldn’t afford to falter. He buried it deep down, pretending it didn’t bother him, pretending that you could still be his, that your attention was his, even as you drifted to someone else.

There were moments when he almost confronted you, asked you why you were so hell-bent on helping someone so insignificant, but he held back. Instead, he bit his tongue, letting the resentment simmer inside, like a serpent coiling around his thoughts.

It was a feeling he couldn’t quite place, but one he couldn’t escape. And for once in his life, he hated not having control over it.

────────────

It had been a month, a whole month, of Light trying his best to suppress the gnawing frustration and resentment. On the surface, life carried on as usual—he kept up his studies, dated other people, spent time with you, pretended everything was fine. It was routine. Everything was routine. But underneath, something had shifted. Something that made everything feel hollow.

He’d watched Ethan grow in confidence, all because of you. He couldn’t deny it. Ethan had improved significantly—he spoke up more, stood taller, even started getting more attention from others. And Light hated it. Hated how he had been replaced, how your attention, once reserved for him, was now shared with Ethan.

You didn’t even notice, though. You were too absorbed in your "little project," as you called it. You genuinely wanted to help Ethan, and it was clear to everyone, Light included, that you had. You were kind to him in a way you had never been with anyone else, and though it made Light’s stomach churn, he couldn’t argue with the results. Ethan had gone from an anxious, nervous wreck to someone who could hold a conversation, someone who felt like he had a place in the world.

But all of that—the improvement, the attention, the support—it was nothing compared to the point of no return.

The moment it all cracked open for Light was when he saw Ethan, of all people, trying to kiss you. Trying to confess to you. In that moment, every bit of control Light had over his emotions snapped. All of the jealousy, all of the uncertainty, the fear that he might lose you to someone else, came crashing down in a split second.

Ethan had moved closer to you, his hand reaching out toward your face. You were looking at him in that quiet, gentle way you always did when you were being supportive, completely unaware of how things had changed. Light’s heart raced, his chest tight, suffocating with a mix of jealousy and... something deeper. Something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Without thinking, he moved. He didn’t care how it looked, didn’t care that it would make him seem possessive or irrational. He couldn’t let this go any further. Not now, not when he hadn’t even had the chance to process it himself.

“Hey,” Light’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension between you and Ethan. His hand shot out to grab Ethan’s wrist before it could get any closer. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Ethan recoiled slightly, a mix of confusion and disappointment flashing across his face. You looked between the two of them, still unaware of what had just happened.

“Light?” you said, voice confused. “What’s going on?”

Light forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He tried to maintain his usual cool demeanor, tried to act like nothing was wrong, but his mind was racing. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Nothing,” he said smoothly, his voice casual. “I just thought it was a little too soon. You don’t have to rush things with him, do you?”

He kept his gaze on Ethan, the mask of indifference slipping in place. It was all too easy to be the confident, charismatic Light Yagami in front of others, but inside, something was boiling. He wasn’t ready to admit it—not to you, not to himself—but it was there. A slow-burning ache. The realization that he might actually care more than he’d allowed himself to believe.

And he hated it. Hated how unstable it made him.

You seemed to brush it off, distracted by the sudden interruption, and shifted your focus back to the situation at hand, oblivious to the internal war happening inside him. Light gave Ethan one final look, sharp and piercing, before letting go of his wrist, silently warning him to back off.

“Let’s get back to work,” Light said, his voice cool and collected, as if nothing had happened. His smile was back, a perfect mask to hide what was really going on. “There’s no need for any of that, alright?”

Ethan nodded, visibly uncomfortable, and after a moment, he stepped away. Light watched him leave, his gaze lingering a little too long, as if to make sure Ethan didn’t try anything else.

When the two of you were alone again, Light tried to act normal. He even teased you lightly about it, making some comment about how you were apparently too irresistible for Ethan. But beneath it all, the feeling stayed with him, thick and suffocating. The truth was there, buried deep inside.

He wasn’t ready to face it. He wasn’t ready to admit it to you. But Light was starting to realize just how much you meant to him. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

So, he buried it again. He kept the mask in place. He pretended it was just a moment of concern, just a protective instinct over his best friend. He’d dealt with worse. He’d always dealt with worse.

But as the days went by, the pressure continued to mount. And no matter how hard he tried to push it down, that little crack inside him was only getting wider.

────────────

Light was a master of subtlety, an architect of unseen movements in the intricate game of social dynamics. He didn’t need to manipulate overtly—he understood that power wasn’t in direct control, but in the delicate nudging of events, in guiding people without them ever realizing they were being guided. And so, when it came to you and Ethan, he did what he did best: he bent the circumstances in his favor without ever leaving a trace.

It started with a casual observation. Light knew that Ethan’s new-found confidence, while refreshing, was also a weakness. The more he was validated by his peers and admired by the girls in school, the more distracted he became. He was no longer the shy, introverted kid, but a rising star in a social hierarchy that was just as demanding as it was fickle. And that, in Light’s mind, was his opportunity.

It wasn’t enough to push Ethan directly. That would have been too obvious, too aggressive, and would only serve to make Ethan wary, perhaps even resentful. Instead, Light did what he always did: he stayed in the background, gently adjusting things without ever touching them directly.

———

One afternoon, Light invited Ethan to study at his house, a seemingly innocuous gathering. It wasn’t that Light wanted to help him with his homework—he was smarter than that. No, he invited Ethan because he knew exactly who else would be there.

“You should join us,” Light had said, his tone casual but with a hidden undercurrent of suggestion. “I’ve got some friends coming over. A few people from our class, actually. I’m sure you’ll enjoy their company.”

Ethan, eager for approval, agreed without hesitation. And when he arrived, he was greeted by not just a group of classmates but also a few girls from your year—girls who Light had carefully cultivated an interest in Ethan. They were charming and confident, just the kind of people who would make Ethan feel special, like he was part of a social circle he’d only just begun to enter.

Light watched with quiet satisfaction as the evening unfolded. He knew that Ethan, although still somewhat socially awkward, would be swept up in the flattery, in the attention from the girls. He would find himself caught up in their world, a world that was fast and shallow and entirely separate from the quiet, introspective world you inhabited.

But Light wasn’t finished yet.

———

The next day, when Ethan and you were supposed to meet for a study session, Light intervened once more, subtly inserting himself into the equation. He casually mentioned that Ethan was already busy with other plans.

“I’m sure Ethan has his hands full,” Light had said with that same detached, almost apologetic tone. “He’s got a lot going on with his new... friends, after all. It’s good for him.”

You had simply nodded, the familiar pang of abandonment not even worth acknowledging. Light could see the slight drop in your expression, the way your shoulders slumped imperceptibly. But he didn’t act on it immediately. No, he needed you to feel like you had no other choice, that it was just a natural consequence of the circumstances.

And as the days passed, Light continued to keep Ethan distracted. More invitations, more group activities, more of those seemingly innocent social events. He made sure Ethan was always busy, always surrounded by people who pulled him in different directions. He could feel Ethan growing more distant, his once-deep friendship with you fading into the background as he became more absorbed in his new social circle.

———

On the surface, nothing changed. You two continued to hang out, study, talk. But Light knew. He knew that you were slowly becoming aware of the shift, of Ethan’s increasing distance. And that’s when Light did what he did best—he made sure you still felt like you had him.

One evening, after Ethan had canceled another plan with you, Light casually invited you over to his place, no agenda, no ulterior motive—just two friends spending time together. But Light’s manipulation wasn’t about grand gestures. It was in the small things.

He’d set up a video game session, one of your favorites, and while you played, he would drop little hints, reminders that you were the one he always came back to. He never let the topic of Ethan come up, choosing instead to distract you with conversations about your interests, your hobbies, things you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Subtly, quietly, Light reminded you of your place in his life. You were the constant, the one who always remained, the one who didn’t leave.

———

When you finally admitted your inner thoughts to Light, he didn’t show much reaction at first. He kept his calm, his cold indifference.

“It’s a bit sad,” you’d said, your tone light, almost detached, as if you didn’t want to admit how much it stung. “But I’m not too sad. I’m used to it.”

Light, the ever-constant figure in your life, simply nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

But it wasn’t just that. Not for you. You had always been prepared for this moment. Prepared for the day Ethan would outgrow you, for the day he would soar to greater heights. You had always been alone in that way, haven’t you? You knew how to let go.

And that’s when Light’s grip on you tightened, though you didn’t fully realize it. He was the only one who came back to you, the only one who had never truly left. He was the constant in your life, no matter what came and went. He was the one who always returned.

You couldn’t quite explain it, but something about that—the fact that no matter how many people came and went in your life, Light was always there—comforted you. And maybe that’s why, deep down, you never questioned his actions. You never thought to look at the situation from a different perspective, to wonder why Light was so intent on keeping you around, when you were used to being discarded so easily by others.

You saw the change in Ethan, sure. You saw the way his life had shifted, how he had grown. But that didn’t mean you resented him. You never did. You were prepared to let him go if it was what was best for him, just like you had done for everyone else.

But Light? He never let go. Not completely. And you never had to ask why.

────────────

The evening was peaceful, the kind of calm routine you had come to expect when it was just you and Light. The house was quiet save for the faint sounds of clicking buttons as you both battled through another video game session, your focus entirely on the screen. You didn’t need to speak much to him—nothing ever felt awkward when it was just the two of you. It was always comfortable, always predictable, until it wasn’t.

As you took a break to rest your fingers, Light leaned back against the couch, looking at you in a way that made your stomach tighten. His gaze was uncharacteristically serious, and there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to start one of his usual philosophical tangents or give one of his self-imposed lectures on some obscure topic. But when he finally spoke, his voice was steady, and there was no trace of teasing or sarcasm.

“Can I kiss you?” Light asked, his words blunt and direct.

You blinked, not immediately reacting. It was such an out-of-place comment that it took a few seconds for it to register. You raised an eyebrow, your fingers still hovering over the game controller. You were certain he couldn’t be serious—Light was always surrounded by a revolving door of girlfriends and admirers. He was practically a Casanova, after all.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you asked, still unsure whether he was joking or not. You didn’t want to entertain it, but the sheer randomness of his question caught your attention.

Light didn’t miss a beat. “I broke up with her.”

You shook your head at the nonchalance in his voice, thinking about how many times you had seen him casually switch partners in the past. It was never a surprise. Light was always the one in control, always the one who seemed to be in charge of everyone and everything, and you had learned long ago that his romantic entanglements were always temporary distractions.

“You really are a Casanova, huh?” you muttered under your breath, continuing to focus on the game as your thumb pressed the button to start the next round.

Light smirked, but there was something different in his expression, something that made the usual cockiness feel almost forced. His eyes were still locked onto you, and there was an intensity there that you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’ve been saving my first kiss for you,” he said, the words so calm, so matter-of-fact, that it almost sounded rehearsed.

You paused mid-game, your thumb stilling on the controller. You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Why?”

“It’s simple,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying that logical, detached tone. “You’re the one who matters the most. You’ve always been there. Everyone else is just a distraction.”

His words hit you like a strange mix of sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite place. He had always been there for you, the constant in your life, the one person who had stuck by you through everything, despite all the weirdness of life. But as his gaze lingered on you, something felt different. There was a weight in the air, an expectation you hadn’t noticed before.

You didn’t immediately respond, unsure how to take his words. You glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Are you serious? You’re asking me this now?”

Light leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a softer tone, the edges of his usual confidence giving way to something quieter. “I know you don’t get caught up in emotions. You’ve never been the type to care about that kind of thing. But... I’ve been feeling things, and I think you should too.”

There was something almost... resigned in his words, as though he had been carrying a burden for a while. The way he spoke wasn’t forceful, but there was a subtle gravity to it, like he was simply revealing something long kept beneath the surface.

“You know,” he continued, his voice becoming even more subdued, “I’ve always been here for you. But you’ve been spending so much time with Ethan lately. Helping him out, giving him your attention...” He paused, just long enough to let the silence fill the space. “I couldn’t help but wonder why.”

You hadn’t realized how much he had been observing, how much he had noticed. You always thought things were just as they were—Light and you, close as ever. It had never seemed like there was more to it, never something to question. But hearing his words now, there was an unfamiliar sting that gnawed at you.

“You’ve always had me,” Light added, his gaze steady, though there was something new, something deeper in it now. “And I’ve always made sure to be there. I guess I just... I never thought you’d be so busy with other people.”

It wasn’t blame, exactly. It was just the way he said it—like an old truth suddenly reexamined. He never demanded your attention before, never pushed for it. But now, in this moment, it felt as if he was trying to help you see something you might have missed.

“I should’ve said something earlier, but... I guess I was too focused on being there for you.” His words hung in the air, as if he was unburdening himself of something that had long been kept quiet. “Maybe... maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’ve always been waiting for you to notice.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his quiet confession pressing on you. You had always been so focused on helping Ethan, on seeing his progress, that you hadn’t realized how much Light had been in the background, how much he had been giving without asking for anything in return. His presence had always felt constant, like a backdrop to your life, never demanding, always patient.

He shifted closer, his voice lowering even further. “So... can I kiss you? I’ve been waiting for this.”

———

As Light’s words lingered in the air, you felt a strange pull in your chest, a mix of confusion and guilt that twisted deeper with each passing second. His gaze was steady, unwavering, as if he had already anticipated your hesitation. You had always trusted him, relied on him, and the thought of disappointing him—of not recognizing what he had done for you—felt like an unbearable weight.

But still, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that gnawed at you. Something didn’t sit right, not entirely. But when Light spoke again, his tone soft yet somehow firm, you couldn’t ignore it.

“You’ve always had me,” he repeated, his voice more intimate now, like a whispered confession. “I’ve always been here for you. And maybe that’s why... it’s so hard for me to see you with someone else, giving all your attention to Ethan, when I’ve given you everything. When I’ve always been here, waiting for you.”

There it was—the subtle shift in his words, the quiet insinuation. The way he made it seem like you owed him something, like you hadn’t truly appreciated everything he had done. And it worked. The guilt bubbled up inside you, slowly at first, but it soon filled every inch of your chest, clouding your thoughts.

His eyes softened, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want to make you feel bad... but I can’t help how I feel. And I’ve always been there for you, through everything.”

The logic, the gentle push—it was all so subtle, so carefully calculated that you barely even realized how much it was affecting you. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to make him feel neglected or unimportant. And the truth was, you hadn’t thought about him the way you should have, not in this sense.

The thought of him hurting, of him feeling left behind, sent a pang of guilt through you. Wasn’t he always there for you? Wasn’t he your best friend? And hadn’t he given you so much, asking for nothing in return? How could you not see that he needed something from you too?

You swallowed hard, feeling as if you were cornered, though he had never raised his voice. You met his gaze, and the weight of everything—his words, his feelings, the years of friendship—pressed down on you. Maybe, just maybe, you could give him this, just this once.

“Okay,” you muttered, almost too quietly, nodding in agreement, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Okay, Light.”

His eyes brightened, as if he had been waiting for you to finally understand, to finally see what he had been trying to show you all along. And before you could think any further, before you could change your mind, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that surprised you.

The kiss was hard, intense—far more passionate than anything you had ever imagined from Light. His lips parted, and before you could react, his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing you deeper into the kiss. His hands, once casual and comforting, were now firm, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You tried to pull back, to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that were suddenly flooding your senses, but he was relentless, his grip tightening around you as he deepened the kiss, pouring out all his hidden feelings in the act. There was a rawness to it that unsettled you, a sense of desperation that didn’t feel like the Light you knew.

“Don’t pull away,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he kissed you harder, more urgently. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

You struggled, your hands pressing against his chest in an attempt to create space between you. But his hold was unyielding, his mouth determined as he kissed you more forcefully, his body pressing you back into the couch. The more you tried to push him away, the more he responded, tightening his grip, kissing you with an intensity that left you breathless.

It was like he was trying to make you feel every ounce of what he had been holding back all this time—the possessiveness, the longing, the unspoken need. You couldn’t escape the feeling that this wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t willing to admit, and for some reason, you were caught in the middle of it all.

Your heart pounded, your breath quickening as you tried to regain control, but it felt impossible. Every time you thought you might push him away, his presence swallowed you whole, and you found yourself trapped in the moment, uncertain of where it was going or what it meant.

And in the chaos of it all, you couldn’t help but wonder: Had you just given in to something you weren’t ready for?

———

The kiss seemed to stretch on forever, the force of it stealing your breath and leaving you spinning. Light’s lips were desperate, hungry—each movement sending a storm of emotions through you, making it hard to think clearly. His hands were unrelenting, pulling you closer as if he needed you to be closer than ever before, and you couldn’t tell if you were suffocating or if it was just the intensity of the moment.

But just as you thought you might lose yourself entirely, Light finally broke the kiss. His lips lingered near yours, a soft breath escaping him as he pulled away slightly. His eyes were wide, almost unsteady, and there was a flush on his cheeks, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. He looked at you, a mix of guilt and something softer in his gaze, almost as if he had been holding something back for far too long.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Light’s voice was low, softer than you had ever heard it. The usual confidence was gone, replaced by something raw and apologetic. He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheek as if trying to make sure you were still there. “I just... I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted you to know how I feel. But I didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to scare you off.”

You could barely breathe, the rush of emotions still flooding your chest. But his words, the way he spoke—so calm, so seemingly vulnerable—made it harder to argue with. He was always in control, always the one who seemed so certain about everything. But now, he seemed... different. More human. More real.

“I know you care about Ethan,” Light continued, his voice growing quieter, almost like he was confessing a long-hidden secret. “But you’ve always been my person. And I can’t just keep pretending that it’s okay to watch you give all your attention to someone else. I can’t do that anymore.” His gaze softened, and he let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’ve always been here for you, through everything, and I’ll always be here for you. But you need to know that I need you too.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of guilt and confusion flooding you. You had always relied on Light, always seen him as the constant in your life—the one person who never faltered. But now, with him standing so close, his eyes filled with emotion, it felt like he was asking for something that you didn’t know how to give.

“It’s just hard, you know?” he went on, his voice softer, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I never wanted to make you feel pressured, never wanted you to think I needed something from you. But I’ve been waiting for you to see it... to see me. The way I see you.”

His words stung, a sharp reminder that maybe you had been blind to his feelings, had never really considered how deeply Light had been there for you. His presence, his care—it had always been so constant that you never thought of it as anything other than friendship. But now, hearing him speak so openly, it felt like you had missed something, like you had failed to notice the depth of his emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he added, his hand moving to cup your face gently. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. How much I’ve been there for you. You’re my everything, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but soften, despite the overwhelming swirl of emotions inside you. He was right about one thing—he had always been there for you, through every up and down. He had given you so much without asking for anything in return. Couldn’t you just give him this? Couldn’t you show him the same loyalty, the same devotion he had shown you?

“I know I’ve been selfish,” Light continued, his voice thick with emotion now. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I’ve always needed you, and I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. His words were so soft, so raw—something about the vulnerability in his tone made it hard to keep your walls up. He was your best friend. He had always been there, a steady force in your life. How could you not want to give him this?

“I’m not asking for anything big,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to see me. To know how much I care. To know that... I’ve always cared.”

Your heart clenched as the weight of his words settled over you, and despite the uncertainty swirling in your mind, you nodded slowly. You could never refuse him. Not Light. Not when he had always been your constant, the one person who had never wavered in his loyalty.

“I... I do care about you, Light,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He smiled softly, almost sadly, as if he had expected something like that, as if he had known you would give in.

“I just needed you to understand,” he whispered, leaning in again, this time his touch gentler, more tender, as he kissed you once more.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be swept away by the warmth of his lips, the tenderness of his touch. Even as doubt whispered in the back of your mind, telling you that something wasn’t quite right, you buried it deep. After all, Light was your best friend. The one person who had always been there for you. You couldn’t turn away from him now, not after everything he had done.

And so, despite the confusion, despite the overwhelming swirl of emotions, you let yourself fall into the kiss, letting the weight of his presence consume you. Because in the end, he was the one constant in your life. And to you, that meant everything.

────────────

As Light’s lips moved against yours, his touch became softer, more controlled, though the intensity beneath the surface didn’t waver. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t let go. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, drawing you into an embrace so firm it felt like he was trying to fuse your body with his. His chin rested against your shoulder, his face buried in the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply, almost reverently.

The scent of you—natural and subtle, like soft florals—flooded his senses, grounding him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. His grip tightened for just a moment, and though you couldn’t see his face, there was an unguarded smile stretching far too wide, twisted in its elation. Ah. Finally. This feels so good. So perfect.

He allowed himself one long, slow breath, savoring every second of having you in his arms. His face remained hidden, safely tucked away where you couldn’t see the mask slip, where you couldn’t catch the flicker of something far darker than the tenderness he pretended to offer. His voice, when it came, was warm and light, the perfect mimicry of someone lovestruck. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, pressing his lips lightly against your temple. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

But inside, his thoughts were far from gentle.

Calm down, Light. Don’t ruin this. Not yet. She’s not ready. He had to physically restrain himself, fingers digging into your back to keep his hands steady. The urge to take, to claim, to make you entirely his surged like wildfire, burning away the edges of his composure. Not yet. You’ll ruin everything if you move too fast.

Your naivety was what made you so precious. You were brilliant in your own way—smarter than him in certain areas, even—but socially? Oh, you were practically a child, stumbling blindly through interactions while he played the perfect friend, the perfect protector. And you trusted him so implicitly. That’s your greatest weakness. You trust me.

His mind was a whirl of strategies and calculations, and all of them led to the same conclusion: you were his, and you always had been. It was simply a matter of time before you realized it too. If he had to break you, mold you, and piece you back together to make you understand, then so be it. He would do it slowly, carefully, ensuring you never saw the cracks in his façade.

You think you’re safe with me. The thought was almost laughable, sending a ripple of satisfaction through him as he tightened his embrace. You don’t realize how deep you’ve already fallen into this. How much I’ve shaped your life to keep you close. But that’s okay. You’ll understand soon enough.

He could feel the heat of your skin against his, hear the soft hitch in your breathing, and it made him drunk with control. He’d never felt calmer, never felt more in command of himself. Every step from here on out was carefully planned, meticulously crafted to lead you exactly where he wanted you. There was no need to rush.

I’ll break you, little by little. But you won’t even notice, will you? You’ll think I’m helping you, protecting you. And when there’s nothing left of the girl who thought she could exist without me, you’ll thank me for it.

You stirred slightly in his hold, and for a moment, he almost let his grip slip—almost let his hunger get the better of him. But he reined himself in, forcing his breathing to slow, forcing the wicked grin on his face to soften into something fond. His lips brushed against your neck, leaving a featherlight kiss that made you shiver, though you didn’t pull away.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered, his voice so soft and tender that it sent a pang of guilt through you for even considering doubting him. “I’ll always take care of you. I promise.”

And he meant it. Oh, he meant it in every twisted sense of the word. You were his to care for, to cherish, to love. And if caring for you meant destroying every piece of independence you had, if cherishing you meant breaking you down until you couldn’t live without him, then that was exactly what he would do.

Because to him, you weren’t just the person he loved. You were his purpose, his possession, his world. And no one—not Ethan, not anyone—would take you from him.

As he pulled back slightly, his hands lingered on your shoulders, holding you at arm’s length as he gazed at you with eyes so warm, so sincere, you felt your heart twist. “Thank you,” he said softly, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “For trusting me. For letting me in.”

You didn’t have the words to respond, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, too consumed by the vulnerability you thought you saw in his expression. You nodded, offering him a small, shaky smile of your own.

And Light, ever the patient predator, smiled back.

Good girl.

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “World Ablaze”: @berry-berry-beam , @magica-ren , @hyakki-yosai , @esthelily , @zombeepuppy , @mololoteco , @whyamaris , @iciel , @songbirdgardensworld , @airangelaira , @illyanaillyana , @ninahorikoshifr , @yandere-daze

[qaraxuanzenith]

specifically, Reish Lakish did not try to save Rabbi Yochanan from drowning. He saw a handsome man swimming naked (there are a bunch of unrelated stories in the Gemara about how Rabbi Yochanan is canonically The Most Handsome Man) and STOLE HIS CLOTHES

and when Rabbi Yochanan was like "hey, those are my clothes, give me back my clothes," and tried to chase after him, Reish Lakish LEAPT ACROSS THE RIVER IN A SINGLE BOUND

at which point, Rabbi Yochanan called out to him (it sounds snappier in the original Aramaic) "You should use your prodigious strength for learning Torah"

and Reish Lakish quipped back (also sounds better in the original Aramaic) "You should use your prodigious beauty for pleasing women"

and THAT'S when Rabbi Yochanan was like "well my sister is pretty like me and I can HOOK YOU UP but she will only marry a scholar" so Reish Lakish reformed on the spot and became Rabbi Yochanan's student and then his chavruta and also his homoerotic brother-in-law

(also when they had their Big Fight it's not just that Reish Lakish stormed out and never came back. Reish Lakish stormed out and got his feelings hurt so badly that he was sick. and his wife asked her brother, Rabbi Yochanan, to apologize because that would make Reish Lakish feel better and he was like "no" and she was like HE'S DYING JUST APOLOGIZE and he was like "no" and she was like "do it for me and my children so we don't become widow and orphans" and he was like "i will take care of you" and because he did not apologize, Reish Lakish DIED OF A BROKEN HEART. and THEN Rabbi Yochanan Experienced Regret and became depressed and missed Reish Lakish. and he did not just die old and alone. he died old and alone and ALSO WENT CRAZY AND DIED OF A BROKEN HEART

Do you think it’s disrespectful to say that rabbi yochanan and Reish Lakish are kind of tumblr coded?

[canonkiller]

god I fuckign love ocs. my characters. my friend's characters. the characters of mutuals ive never spoken to. the characters of artists ive followed and maybe spoken to a little more. the characters of complete strangers I see in passing and think "aw that's cool". if you have ten fans I am one if you have one fan it is me etc etc. I love you

[elvesofnoldor]

.

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[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!

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

author’s note thank you to this anon!! this fic deviates from canon. timeline is s2 when rafe is at his most unhinged.

» masterlist

disclaimer there is no explicit s/xual assault scene in this story, but it is referenced and the trauma that comes with surviving it is explored. it is committed by an original character. when writing this, i pulled from personal experience, so please be mindful that if you comment, do not engage in any victim-blaming as it is triggering to me and others.

·········

In a single harrowing moment, you’ve learned that there’s truth to the expression that the enemy of your enemy can be your friend.

Rafe looks all too comfortable holding a gun. The rage coursing through you is deafening, persuading you that the person he’s pointing it at deserves to die.

And then, you utter the words rising in your throat.

“Do it.”

╰┈➤ two days earlier

Your shifts at the country club are a repetitive motion of driving over the golf course’s hills, handing the island’s wealthiest people their overpriced drinks, and accepting their money with a fake smile.

The job was always a predictable bore. Until a week ago, when you started seeing a familiar face.

The moment Rafe’s eyes landed on you and he realized that one of the Pogues he revels in berating is the new cart girl, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Every time you see him, he does the same thing. He orders a beer and says here you go, sweetheart when he tips you.

It’s always a fifty. No other club member gives you nearly this much. It’s like he loves reminding you that this type of money is pocket change to him.

Every time you serve him, you subdue your glare and take the crisp bill that sits between his fingers, wondering why even though the man is an arrogant asshole, you can’t stop staring at him.

You feel weak for not hating him all the way. You can’t help that over the years of your tense, sporadic interactions, a part of you has always wondered if he feels the same pull of attraction that you do.

You have to remind yourself of who he is. A man committed to letting everyone know how much better he thinks he is because he was lucky enough to be born into money. He’s heartless. And you can’t wait for the day that you finally rid yourself of this fixation you have for him.

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon at the end of a long shift and you’re parked by one of the paved pathways on the course, recording your last transaction in your logbook.

You hear the familiar whirring of a cart passing by. It stops. You don’t think much of it until you hear his voice.

“We’ll take two beers,” he calls from behind the steering wheel. You look up to see him. Rafe.

“I’m obviously off duty,” you reply curtly, looking between him and his friend.

“What, so you can write in your diary, but you can’t give us some drinks?” he calls.

“It’s a logbook,” you reply coldly. “It’s called having–”

You flatten your lips together, trying to control yourself.

“Having…?” he challenges. The mocking tone of his voice is what makes you snap.

“A job,” you reply. “Not everyone can live off of daddy’s money.”

Rafe huffs a laugh, a wisp of amusement flashing on his face.

“Careful, Pogue,” he says. “What’ll your boss say if he knows that’s how you’re talking to me?”

“I’m off the clock, Kook,” you say the label with the same vitriol. “I can talk however I want.”

You close your book and start up your cart before he can irritate you any more. Even though there’s something aggravatingly magnetic about him, you refuse to allow him to taunt you any longer.

·········

You meet up with your friends on the beach that evening, zoning out as the three of them chatter around you, passing a joint you brought.

You stare ahead at the soft waves under the setting sun, thinking of Rafe’s cold stare, thinking of the smirk he seems to always have etched on his face reserved especially for you, thinking of how you wish your body would catch up with your mind because how can you dislike somebody this much but also be so attracted to them?

“Who’s your plug?” JJ asks, seemingly impressed. He pulls you out of your daze as he passes you the joint. Smoke curls out of the end of it, twisting in the wind.

“That guy, Porter,” you say flatly. You take a puff, thinking back to the shaggy-haired Kook who approached you at a party on the north side of the island the other night, offering you half the price on your first buy.

He also tried to convince you to try something harder, but you told him you’re sticking to pot. You weren’t about to get hooked on coke, especially not because a drug-dealing Kook wants to take more of your money.

You continue to stare ahead, passing the joint along.

“What a trust fund kid name,” JJ laughs. “Fuckin’ Porter.”

Your friends chuckle around you, but you continue to stare ahead.

“Hard day at the office?” he says in response to your absentmindedness. You meet JJ’s gaze, shaking your head as if to dismiss your own thoughts.

“Rafe is such an asshole,” you say.

“What’d he do this time?” Pope asks. Your friends await your response, already well aware of your history with the bullshit you’ve ever had to deal with at work lately.

“He said something about ratting me out to my boss for talking back to him,” you reply. You scoff, getting mad all over again. You need to pull yourself out of this funk. “Whatever. All I do is complain about him. He’s not worth it. This is the last time you’ll ever hear me talk about him. I mean it.”

You make an effort to join in your friends’ conversations, feeling guilty that you’re so spaced out. With parents who never give you much attention at all, the guys surrounding you are your family. Your brothers. They deserve better than to hear you ramble on about Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes travel over the silhouettes sitting along the darkening shoreline when he arrives at the beach with his friends.

It’s the sound of his pick-up truck’s door shutting that gets your attention. You look over your shoulder. Then, you glance away, indifference on your face.

It pisses him off. Rafe has always craved what he can’t have. Power. Self-control. You. Every time he talks to you, you act like he’s such a bother, a sharp thorn in your side.

You get under his skin. And he’s never wanted a girl this bad. A goddamn Pogue of all people. Something about you lures him in. It makes him want to see what really lies behind the irritation that burns in your eyes every time he speaks to you.

He needs to crack your armor. And he has always loved a challenge.

As the beach populates, the division between the Kooks and the Pogues is clear, as if an invisible line is drawn in the sand. He stays on his side, you stay on yours.

When night falls, you and your friends have all smoked through the entire joint, and you’re a bit buzzed but not nearly as high as you’d like to be.

You spot Porter by the shoreline, drinking with his friends, and dust the sand off your knees when you stand up.

“I’m gonna go buy some more,” you say to your friends.

“Going into enemy territory?” JJ asks.

“It’s nothing new to me,” you laugh. “I work in enemy territory, remember?”

“You need company? Or cash?” John B asks.

“All good. My treat,” you say. “I’m loaded with tips.”

You don’t mention that a majority of the money in your pocket is from Rafe.

As you approach the boisterous group, you cross your arms and feign confidence. In reality, being around these types has always put you on edge.

Kooks give off a sense of invincibility, almost impunity, like predators at the top of the food chain, perpetually safe from harm and always on the brink of inflicting it.

You notice Rafe’s stare on you from his place in the large group and your stomach twists. Your eyes flit off of him and you wonder how it’s possible to wish someone would stay away but also so deeply crave they’d come closer.

Truthfully, within the tangled way he makes you feel, you’re kind of scared of Rafe, too. He’s reckless and unpredictable. And yet, that side of him excites you. There’s a complexity to him that has an inescapable effect on you.

“You holding?” you ask Porter once you approach him. He’s one of the few Kooks you don’t mind so much. He doesn’t have the cold air of arrogance that you’re so used to.

“It’s good shit, isn’t it?” he says with a smile. “How much you want?”

You leaf through the bills in your hand.

“Just a joint,” you say. The waves crash behind you, almost drowning your voice out. You make the exchange and push through the crowd, eager to get back to your friends.

You thought you managed to get away without any complications, but two words stop you.

“You lost?”

You turn to see Rafe, overwhelming heat rushing through you as he closes the distance between you, towering over you as the breeze brushes his hair over his forehead.

“What, ‘cause I’m on your side of the beach?” you mutter. “Grow up.”

Rafe smirks. He gets such a kick out of fucking with the Pogues. Especially you.

“Is that what you’re spending my tips on?” he asks, eyes darting down to the joint in your hand.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can tell your father I say thanks.”

Rafe’s mouth curls into a bigger smile. When he looks at you like that, like he wants to be around you, you wonder if he secretly enjoys your company.

“How long you been buying from him?” Rafe asks.

“Why?” you say. The way you glare at him makes every muscle in his body tense. He’d be an idiot to deny how attracted he is to you. “You gonna tell my boss?”

“It was a fucking joke,” he mutters with a laugh. “You Pogues all have sticks up your asses, I swear.”

You grit your teeth. He’s clearly pleased when he riles you up like this. You don’t understand how somebody could be so spiteful.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you say.

Silence settles between you, the chattering of people on either side of the beach intertwined in the air, an overlap of worlds far apart. He reminds himself that he has something important to ask you.

“Did he offer you anything else?” he says. You’ve already heard the gossip about how Rafe’s selling coke now. He must want to offer you a better price.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you reply. Rafe scoffs, his tongue jutting under his cheek as he takes you in.

“I’d never sell to you.”

You huff a flat chuckle. You’re tired of his juvenile obsession with the class divide that sits between you.

“So, I’m good enough to serve you drinks, but not good enough to buy your drugs?”

You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when his face hardens with anger. For a second, you worry that you’re just as spiteful as he is, that you’re no better than him.

Rafe scoffs. He’s seen what coke does to people. To himself. He refuses to see it happen to you. But of course you expect the worst of him. Like everyone else does.

“Did he offer you anything else or not?” Rafe repeats with a note of irritation.

“Why?” you sputter.

“I need to know if he’s trying to steal from me.”

Rafe refuses to be in competition with anyone. Other Kooks can sell weed all they want, but coke is his territory, and if he has to claim his territory, so be it. He’s heard rumblings that Porter’s expanded his offerings now. And Rafe isn’t going to let him fuck him over.

“He did,” you finally answer. “Coke. He said it’s the purest on the island.”

He only nods tersely, lips twisting in frustration, before he turns around and storms away from you. So, that’s all he wanted from you. Information.

“You’re welcome,” you half-shout. Curiosity pulls you in as your eyes follow him into the crowd. Sure enough, Rafe pushes Porter to the ground, shouting indistinctly, earning jeers from the crowd.

It’s typical. Nearly every time you see Rafe out socially, he’s yelling and fighting someone. You walk back to your friends, hoping you can shake off the feeling he left you with.

·········

The only thing getting you through your shift the next day is that tomorrow is a holiday. The night of the Fourth of July is an escape from the stresses of your life, an excuse to get wasted with your friends under the fireworks and let yourself drift off into oblivion.

After you clock out, you’re pacing through the country club’s bar when you hear your name called from the patio. You look to see Porter sitting at a table with a couple of friends, his smile wide.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he says when you approach.

“Yeah, I’m a server on the course,” you explain. You almost expect him to ignorantly ask for a drink, but have to remind yourself that he’s not like Rafe.

“How is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, we won’t tell,” Porter chuckles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Only sometimes,” you reply with a laugh. “Depends on the day. And on the person I’m dealing with.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls out his phone, punching in the password. “I meant to tell you last night that you should have my number. You know, for when you need to stock up.”

You take his phone, cluing in that he’s making himself more accessible to you for the next time you need to buy from him. As you text yourself his name, one of the men at the table motions to Porter.

“Bro,” his friend says, gaze trained ahead. Porter looks past you to the bar and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Can’t escape him,” he sighs.

You follow his eyeline to spot Rafe at the bar with a friend, dark liquor sitting in the glass he’s holding.

“Not a fan?” you ask.

“Is anyone?” Porter laughs. “He’s a nutcase.”

“Don’t let him hear you,” his friend murmurs.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you,” the other guy laughs.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Porter replies.

Your eyes linger on Rafe a second longer than they need to. Your curiosity for why he’s the way he is is like a flame that won’t burn out. He has everything he could possibly want. Why is he so mean?

“Yeah,” is all you can say. You turn around again and give Porter his phone back.

“Oh, there’s a party at my beach house tomorrow night. My neighbor does this crazy fireworks thing every year,” he tells you. “I’ll text you the address.”

You nod appreciatively, glad that at least some of the rich people you deal with don’t buy into the idea that you’re beneath them.

·········

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you make it to the beach house the next night. The guys are rambling on behind you as you step inside the massive, humid house, filled with chattering people and loud music.

“Where are your car keys?” Pope asks.

“Right here,” JJ says, jingling them in front of his face. “Do I need to show you every five minutes?”

“I’ll just take them,” Pope says, grabbing them and stuffing them in his pocket. “You can’t be trusted.”

“It was one time,” JJ says. You laugh as you think of last weekend when he’d lost his car keys at a party in the Cut.

“Yeah, and we had to search the sand for, like half an hour,” you remind him.

“You know what I’m not hearing?” JJ says. “A thank you for driving all the time.”

“Remind me, who actually drove last time?” John B asks. “And who was hurling in the backseat?”

JJ scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m a man of honor,” he says. “I’m not not going to chug when I’m told to chug.” His eyes fix on something across the room. “Speaking of…”

He heads towards the keg and you and Pope share a disapproving shake of your heads. You follow your friends, grabbing a solo cup and sipping on beer.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a text from Porter: You here? Want to buy?

You’ve already smoked through the joint you bought two nights ago and quickly reply: yes.

He texts: come upstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” you quickly tell your friends before you push through the crowd.

You duck under the string tied across the bottom of staircase, a sign that warns partygoers that it’s off limits hanging in the middle. One door is open in the upstairs hallway. You see Porter sitting on a bed, rolling a joint on a book that’s sitting in his lap.

“Hey. Got a fresh one for you,” he says.

“Thanks.” You dig into your pocket. “Same price?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head. “It’ll take a while. You can come in and chill.”

You sit at his desk close to the door, talking as he packs the thin white paper.

When he stands up, instead of giving the joint to you, he darts across the room abruptly. Your brows knit in confusion when he shuts the door, the loud music reduced to muffles now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fear twisting your heart in a vise.

He must have read things wrong.

You assume he’ll stop when you tell him no.

He doesn’t.

·········

You fall to the hard floor. You grip the edge of the bed, hardly any light spilling into the room from the hallway as you blink rapidly to gain your bearings.

A loud slam was what woke you up. You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t even know where you are.

Two shadowy figures stand on the other side of the room. One roughly pushes the other to the floor. You stay still, peeking over the bed. Your body is trembling with pain and you don’t know why.

“Do you think I’m joking?” a man spits.

You know that voice. It’s Rafe.

“Dude, relax,“ the man on the floor says.

You might be sick. It’s Porter on the floor, whimpering like an idiot. You remember why your body is aching now.

He hurt you. He hurt you and you retreated into your mind and you fell unconscious. A cold swirl of anger and disgust and sadness twists your stomach into a knot.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking way,” Rafe shouts. “Where’s your stash?”

“In the desk,” Porter says quietly. “Just take it. I’ll stick to selling weed, okay? You have my word.”

You watch from the floor, Rafe’s broad figure leaning to pull open drawers and shove items off the desk, objects clattering on the floor in the dark. They don’t know you’re here.

Consciousness slowly grips you. Rafe confronted him about selling coke. He told him to stop. And Porter didn’t listen.

Your eyes flood with hot tears. He didn’t listen to you, either.

You just want to leave. To get out of this horrifying room. To figure out how to put yourself back together after surviving one of the worst ways a person can break another.

Loud fireworks abruptly crack in the sky, startling you, shining light in through the window. And that’s when you see it. Porter is by the other side of the bed, still on the floor, and in his raised hand, something is gleaming.

A gun.

“Rafe!” Your throat is dry, sore from the way you’d screamed.

He suddenly turns towards you, confusedly finding your face across the room. Then, his gaze snaps down at Porter. He notices the gun. And he lunges.

You stand on shaky knees as you watch Rafe land vicious punches, every blow making Porter groan.

“Gonna pull a gun when my back is turned, pussy?” Rafe bellows. “Really?”

You round the bed, staring in horror, your mind still in fragmented shambles. You’d told Porter to stop so many times and every strike of Rafe’s knuckles against his jaw gives you a jolt of satisfaction, a desire for him to suffer more.

He was never a nice guy. He’s just like all of them. A predator.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, heavily breathing as fireworks continue their pops and sizzles over the beach.

The gun is in his hand now. His heart is thrumming, his blood boiling hot. He could’ve died. If you didn’t call his name, he could’ve lost his life.

Rafe’s steady and firm, holding the weapon still, a sharp contrast to how hard you’re shaking.

“Do it,” you say. Rafe’s eyes finds yours, his lips parted, blood splattered on his face. It’s not his. Porter didn’t land any punches. Rafe beat him that badly.

“What?” Porter cries. “Are you insane?”

He’s staring up at both of you through wide eyes as the barrel of the gun remains directed at him. You imagine how terrifying you must look to him, standing over him in the dim room with his pathetic life in your hands.

“Me?” you mutter. Hatred courses through your veins when you glare at him as he lies on his side, bloodied and weak.

The power has shifted into your hands. He was the one looking down at you earlier, hurting you. And now that your body is yours again, you don’t hesitate to kick him in the stomach.

He grunts when you make contact, his body curling forward.

Rafe watches, rendered speechless. He thought he’d seen you angry before. He hasn’t. This is new. This is pure rage. This is a level of wrath he didn’t know you were capable of.

Even through the darkness, Rafe can see that your eyes are shiny with tears when you turn your head to look at him again.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” you snap, your words dripping with agony and rage. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Rafe is powerless against the angry, malevolent instinct that’s guided him all his life. He doesn’t think.

The blow of the gun cuts through the air.

Your breath catches.

And he’s just a body. Lifeless on the floor. Gone.

You look up at Rafe. Your chests are heaving, broken and shaky breaths spilling out of your mouths. The colors lighting up the night sky tint your tear-streaked face. He’s never seen agony personified. He has now.

You glance down at Porter again. His mouth is agape. His eyes are shut. Forever. Forever.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. Hot tears fall over your cheeks so quickly that you fear they’ll never stop. The adrenaline escapes you like water spinning down a drain, replaced with a bottomless dread.

Rafe realizes he’s still pointing the gun. He lowers his arm, his palm sweating against the grip. He had to do it. He had to. He didn’t know that taking a life would feel this good. He doesn’t feel a shred of regret or remorse. For once, he has real power.

But then he watches the way you sink down to the floor.

“What did we…” you whisper, words rushed. “What did we do? Rafe, what did we do?”

There’s a dead body next to you. Cold permeates your bones. You know it’s the type of chill that will never leave you.

Rafe kneels in front of you. The gun hits the floor with a heavy thump. The air smells like gunpowder, fried and smoking. He’s trying to meet your eyes, but your gaze is skittering around as you sit, crumpled and trembling.

“Hey,” he says clearly.

You’re staring at the ground, your breaths shallow.

“Hey,” he repeats louder. Finally, you look at him. “It was self-defense.”

You nod weakly, processing how within a second, you’ve tangled yourselves together into a knot that you can never unravel. Rafe pulled the trigger, but you told him to. And you’re sure you would’ve done it yourself if Rafe didn’t. You’re murderers.

Rafe’s hand is an inch away from you, almost putting it on yours, almost touching someone with tenderness instead of anger for once. You saved his life. You loathe him, but you saved his life, reacting in a split second.

“Why were you even up here?” he asks.

“Just be glad I was,” you say, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t so shellshocked, you’d laugh. You never expected Rafe to have manners, and you never expected that if he did, it’d be a show of gratitude for helping him kill somebody.

Nausea pools in your gut at the reminder of why you were so angry. Did Porter plan it? Did he always have his sights set on you, like a vulture circling the sky, ready to attack?

What happened earlier tonight flashes through your mind. He deserved to die. He did something unforgivable. He said things about how girls always do this, they always tease but never give it up.

You didn’t just save Rafe. You saved all the girls who were fated to cross that monster’s path. You pushed a soul to its death, but it was one not worthy of life.

Rafe stares at you as you blink rapidly, your mind clearly racing.

“He rip you off or something?” he asks, at a loss for why you’d encourage him to pull the trigger.

Of course Rafe thinks it’s about money. That’s all that matters to him.

“Yeah,” you lie, voice cracking. You can’t tell him. You can’t relive it. Especially with someone who you know is cold-blooded. Someone who might blame you for coming up to this bedroom in the first place.

Tease. Porter called you a tease while you pleaded for him to stop. You drop your head in your hands, chest stuttering with your breathy cries, remembering how he’d hurt you.

Rafe stares at you, confused, wondering how you could be so angry and vengeful and ruthless, just to regret it a second after the bullet left the chamber.

“We had to do it,” he states.

“I know,” you tell him. You wipe your cheeks with your palms, well aware that he could never understand why you’re really crying. “We’ll just tell the truth.”

He shakes his head at you.

“Tell who the truth?” Rafe mutters, his stare hard. “We’re not telling anybody.”

Your breath shakes. He wants to hide this. To try to get away with it.

“What if someone heard the gunshot?” you murmur.

“Everyone’s outside,” he says. “And those stupid fireworks are so fucking loud. Nobody could tell the difference.”

You wipe your face again, considering his words. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket. Someone’s calling you. Surely one of your friends. Why didn’t you just tell them where you were going? Why didn’t you just have one of them come upstairs with you?

Impatience quickly rises in Rafe while you stay silent.

“I almost knocked him out the other night,” he says. “In front of everyone. You think backing me up would be enough for anyone to believe I was protecting myself?”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. Rafe has a reputation for being violent. Porter put up a front that he was a nice guy. His friends even said right in front of you that Rafe would kill him. Who’d believe that Porter actually pointed a gun first?

Besides, if you vouched for him, who’s to say they’d trust you? They could spin it and say Rafe paid off a Pogue to lie for him.

“And then the cops would dig and find out it was over coke,” Rafe sputters. “It’d be a fucking mess. We’re not telling anybody.”

He’s right. Confessing wouldn’t do you any good, either. It could go sideways and you could never afford a good lawyer.

Nobody deserves to be punished for taking down the evil, lifeless man lying on the floor. Not you. Not even Rafe. You won’t take the risk.

You gaze into Rafe’s eyes, finding comfort in the striking blue hue for the first time, feeling a newfound sense of loyalty to him.

He gave you vengeance in a world that would never punish the man who hurt you. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you whisper. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of the body.”

next >

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[hannieehaee]

Please i just want to read a smut about having a rough sex with hoshi because he's jealous when he heard his gf got confessed by her male friend. 👉👈 (It would be nice if he won't stop even if you cry in pain, saying that it's a punishment) (Just skip this if you're uncomfortable..)

18+ / mdi

content: jealous!soonyoung, smut, established relationship, he acts a little toxic but not that much, rough sex but completely consensual, afab reader, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1807

a/n: thank u for the request!!

masterlist

"babe, can i borrow your phone? i left mine in my gym bag and i'm too lazy to go get it," soonyoung mumbled as he laid down on your lap, hair being played with and thoroughly comfortable.

"yeah, here," you handed it to him without much thought.

neither of you had a tendency to go through each other's phones, but you had exchanged passwords and were very casual about picking up the other's phones whenever you felt like it. there was too much trust between you to really overthink these things. which wad why you had no issue giving him your phone while he didn't have his own at hand.

soonyoung laid there for a while, perusing instagram and other social medias while you read an ebook, holding it with one hand while playing with his hair with the other. you didn't pay much mind to him while you entertained yourself with your story, and the same could be said about him.

the calm silence accompanied by some show playing in the background was interrupted mere minutes later by a characteristically loud gasp from soonyoung.

"babe, who the hell is this loser?", he asked, rushing to sit up beside you and showing you your phone.

"hm? who?" you barely looked up from your book as he pressed to your side.

"some loser. cooper," he huffed.

on screen was a conversation he'd seemingly pulled up, with the name 'cooper coworker' displayed at the top. it took a few seconds for it to dawn on you what you were looking at.

"oh. that's just my coworker. why? what'd he say?", you didn't care too much about the conversation, but you were slightly curious as to why soonyoung had pulled it up. it wasn't really like him to check your messages.

"the notification just popped up so i went on it, sorry," he was sheepish about it before fully handing you the phone, letting you take a look at the conversation in question, "but, uh, what does he mean by this?"

there were a few prior messages to the newer ones, which were all from different time stamps and very tame in nature, usually just being shift trades or confirmations about work projects. the final few were the ones soonyoung had accidentally intercepted before you could check.

from: cooper coworker

hey can we talk about what happened the other day?

the first one was tame enough, suddenly reminding you of what'd happened a few weeks back, but the poor boy practically vibrating next to you made you opt to keep reading before clarifying the situation to him.

from: cooper coworker

i just wanted to see if you'd reconsider. i'd really like to take you out

i felt like you were just dismissing me with the whole boyfriend thing. i asked belinda and she said she's never seen you with any guy

anyways my offer for dinner's still up if you wanna

it amused you for the most part. the original interaction had been so tame and forgettable you'd completely disregarded the whole thing as soon as it happened.

cooper wasnt someone you saw on a daily basis, so his name hadnt registered when soonyoung had told you who the message was from. when he came up to you to ask if you'd like to have dinner, you were slightly surprised, not entirely sure of who he was. the easiest thing to say in response was that you had a boyfriend and werent interested (which was very much the truth). he had simply nodded in response and mostly taken it like a champ.

you wish you could say that his insistence surprised you, but it was a classic guy move. to act nonchalant at rejection only to come back ten times as insistent as before.

the situation made you wanna roll your eyes and just block him, but you guessed that maybe soonyoung would want an explanation sometime soon before his entire body combusted. the sight was cute, at least.

you sighed, "it's just some guy from work who asked me out, soonie. nothing too important."

that wasn't enough for him.

he whined, nudging your knee as he put the phone down, "what does he mean by 'the whole boyfriend thing'? what, do you work with this loser? who does he think he is? i'm your lockscreen, what the fuck is wrong with him? should i go talk to him? i'll do it, babe, just-"

"soonyoung! it's fine. i'll block him if it makes you feel better. i never talk to him anyways. everyone else at work knows i have a boyfriend. it's just some stupid guy. no threat whatsoever," you reassured him.

that seemed to calm him down momentarily. his breath evened and his rambling halted. he remained quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

"that's not good enough."

"what?"

suddenly he got up, grabbing your phone in one hand and your arm with the other and leading you out of the living room. within moments you were in your room, being pushed towards your bed and losing your balance and falling onto it.

"soonyoung, what the fuck-"

throwing your phone onto the bed, he approached you, telling you to keep facing forward as he pushed you further onto the bed. undoing his sweats as he approached you. his tone had been cold and entirely void of emotion, causing your brain to go numb and follow along with his instruction. you'd been too distracted by the removal of your own sweats to hear his following instruction, causing him to harshly pull you against him to get your attention before repeating himself.

"w-what?"

"i said, text him. tell him you're not interested and block him."

that was easy enough.

you reached over to the phone he'd thrown onto the bed and opened it back up, searching for the conversation in order to draft up a message.

but before you were even able to start, a huge distraction entered you.

immediately upon penetrating you, soonyoung went at it like crazy. it was like he had zero concern for anything other than fucking his entire essence into you.

you screamed out at the sudden intrusion and continued to gasp and mewl at the consequent thrusts into your hole. your hands shook as you gripped onto the phone, elbows hurting from putting your weight on them in order to hold onto the phone.

but soonyoung didnt care. no, on the contrary, any time you'd scream out his name, he'd go even harder, fingers surely bruising your hips due to how harshly he held onto you.

"i don't see you texting him, baby," he huffed in between thrusts, "need me to dictate it to you? brain too cockdrunk to think?"

he was mocking you, but he was right. you were usually nicely moist for him, but the moment he threw you onto the bed, it was like your mind was taken over by a docile and horny version of yourself, making you lose any ability to think for yourself by every passing moment.

unable to respond properly, you nodded, moving to try and type whatever he'd tell you to type.

"tell him to never contact you again, or else your boyfriend might get mad, okay, baby? tell him, fuck, tell him you already have the perfect guy taking care of you every night," he groaned in between thrusts, huffing and puffing at how tight you'd get for him.

you typed up the message to the best of your ability, surely getting a ton of typos in the process but not caring enough to correct them. this guy was nothing compared to soonyoung, especially not in this moment. the message in itself was slightly embarrassing to share with some random coworker, but your brain wasn't working properly at the moment.

hitting send, you thought that'd be the end of it. that now you'd be able to enjoy soonyoung's cock in peace. except that bastard replied immediately, and soonyoung managed to catch it from behind you.

suddenly, he started hammering even harder into you, genuine anger filling his veins at the response you'd received.

from: cooper coworker

lol that sounds kinda toxic. u deserve better than that guy

"'toxic'? did he just call me toxic?," he gaped between gasped breaths, "block him," he demanded, "block that fucking dumbass, i- fuck, i'm gonna-"

that's when he started going as hard as humanly possible, still letting out expletives against the coworker you'd forgotten about the moment you'd gone back home that day to your soonyoung. it hurt, but it hurt so good. it was the most pleasurable pain you'd ever felt. surely it'd lead to traces of pain after the fact, but it all felt worth it as soonyoung hammered into you with all strength available in his body.

"h-hurts, soonie, it's too much ..." you managed to sigh out, arms giving out under you and head pressing onto the mattress.

the comforter under you quickly became damp with a mixture if tears and drool, but you were too brain dead to process it.

"no, baby, this ... this, fucking shit, is to show you that you're mine. that no idiot guy can even think of, shit, fuck, of looking your way," he practically growled.

his labored breath accompanied by his broken sentences told you all you needed to know. you were about to be filled up by his load and there was nothing you wanted more. you'd never been claimed by someone in such a way and the euphoria that came with it was addictive.

with more curses and filthy expletives, soonyoung filled you up. his warmth inside you led to your own orgasm, making you completely fall onto the bed the moment he pulled out and took away his hold on you.

you didn't have any time to whine at the loss before he reappeared and began hastily cleaning you up, laying you on your back so he could kiss your cheek as he wiped at the drool and tears drying on your face.

when you opened your eyes, you found a completely different image of the soonyoung who had just defiled you to hell and back. staring back at you wad a hamster-faced cutie with some sort of worry in his eyes. his smile was sheepish and his movements way softer than usual. you couldn't left a giggle leaving your lips, which in turn caused him to relax and chuckle back.

"uh, sorry about that. just- uh, i got mad, i think ... at him! not at you! you're perfect," he rambled on in usual soonyoung fashion.

he was the cutest thing ever.

"it's okay, soonie. i'm not mad. feel free to do that again any time you want," you sat up to give him a kiss, earning a happy hum from him.

"oh, ah, yes. noted."

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).

Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating

Thanks in advance!

chasing you ✩ gregory house

“What color is your pee?”

You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.

“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.

“And what color is your blood?”

“Red.”

House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”

The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”

The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”

“Waste-“

“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”

“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.

“Treatment?”

House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“

“Other possible causes?”

“Infection.”

House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”

Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”

“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.

House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.

“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.

“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”

The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.

“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”

House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.

Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.

When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”

“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”

The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”

“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”

Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”

“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”

“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.

House clicks his tongue. “No.”

“How long-“

“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”

The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”

House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”

“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”

House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”

You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”

“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”

Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.

“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”

“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.

House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”

“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.

House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”

Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.

“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.

“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.

Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”

The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”

“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.

“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”

“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”

Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”

“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”

This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”

For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”

With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”

You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”

House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”

“Probably not,” you reply.

“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”

Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.

Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.

To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.

You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”

“House.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”

“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”

Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”

“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.

Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”

Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.

After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”

You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”

Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”

With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.

“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.

James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.

You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.

When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.

“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.

House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”

You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.

“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”

“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”

House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.

“Why won’t you go with me?”

You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”

“Y/n, why-“

You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.

The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.

House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”

House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”

“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”

“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”

A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.

“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”

Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”

“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.

“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”

“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.

Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”

House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”

Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”

“I see.”

Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”

Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”

Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”

It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.

“Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”

“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.

House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”

You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”

Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”

You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”

“Why?” House asked immediately.

You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”

House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.

“And why do you want to go with me?”

House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’

You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”

“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.

You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.

House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.

And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”

Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”

House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”

“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”

House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”

You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”

“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.

Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.

House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”

“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.

House just hums. “Good.”

You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.

House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.

[skzdarlings]

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[hiiikiko]

𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖’𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞

ellie w. x reader | tlou m.list

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[a/n: please take this for now bc im too lazy to write]

𖥸 ellie’s bedroom smells like pine, her cologne, cotton, and a little bit of weed

𖥸 her room is a little messy but not in a ‘clothes on the floor, open food, or trash all over the floor’ type of way but it’s just cluttered, there’s balled up notebook paper littered around her trashcan, a undumped ash tray by her window, clothes strewn all over her bed, and stacks of paper of various origins, her bed is rarely ever made (she only makes it when she knows you’re coming over)

𖥸 her walls are covered with posters of bands, astronauts, planets, and superheroes, next to the posters are pictures of you, jesse, dina, and joel

𖥸 ellie is a nerd, there’s no denying it, so she has multiple figurines of her favourite superheroes, anime characters, and video game characters

𖥸 she also has models of various spaceships, figurines that she and joel had spent hours on

𖥸 she gets a little embarrassed about her figurines when you come over, trying to divert your attention but once she realizes you don’t care if she’s a nerd, she’ll tell you the story of each character and tell you about how her and joel had stayed up one night to finish a model of a spaceship and when they were so close to finishing, they realized they had no glue and left to the nearest gas station at 3 in the morning to find a tube of krazy glue

𖥸 her guitar rests in a corner of her room next to her music collection, she has vinyl, cassette, and cds (she sometimes buy an album in all three because she likes to compare the listening experience)

𖥸 she is very proud of her collection, showing it off to you as much as possible and MAYBE even letting you borrow some (she thoroughly inspects them every time you bring them back)

𖥸 shes even made you cds but she’s too shy to give them to you so for now, they sit in a pile behind her display until she’ll eventually work up the nerve to give them to you

𖥸 her closet is completely packed with flannels, band tees, and her never ending collection of converse

𖥸 a lot of her clothes were actually hand me downs from when joel was a teenager

𖥸 her clothes smell like her, cologne, weed, ink, and smoke, it’s a soothing scent

𖥸 whenever she knows you’re coming over, she grabs all the clothes on her bed and shoves them into her closet, praying you won’t look in there

𖥸 her desk is littered with more crumpled up pieces of paper, little dinosaur figurines from the time she and joel went to a museum, doodles, and notebooks full of notes about space, science, and you

𖥸 her desk is almost like a visual representation of her mind, messy, cluttered, artistic, and nerdy

𖥸 she’s a collector! we all know this, under her bed she has countless boxes of ‘stuff’

𖥸 she has a box full of comic books and trading cards

𖥸 a box full of pins of space things, superhero’s, video games, etc etc (she changes the pins on her backpack every week, she is ESTATIC when you notice)

𖥸 she also has a box of stuff you gave her (notes, doodles, pics, bracelets, etc) she’d never admit this to anyone because she’s scared they’ll think of it as “creepy”

[mellowyellow236]

How Would the TWST Boys react to a Yuu/Reader like the “Princess” in their movie?

While the reader is gender neutral, when I use the word “Princess”, I mean the leading female character in their movies, the exception being Savanaclaw (The Reader is based on Belle from Beauty and the Beast; I thought it fit more than Nala and most other characters are male or side characters) All drabbles are meant to be interpreted as romantic, except for those in Ramschakle, Ortho, or if otherwise stated, but most can also be read as platonic. Some are just headcanons, while others are more like a story. 

This is not an idea unique to me! However, I’ve seen a lot of people do it so I’m not sure who the original was. 

As always, if you have anything to add or any questions, please leave a comment or ask. Requests are open! 

All parts below the cut :)  

Heartslabyul: Alice from Alice In Wonderland 

Riddle Rosehearts - 

Pre-overblot Riddle isn’t the biggest fan of how you act. Why is he painting the roses? Because that’s the rule. Doesn’t it hurt them? No, it’s magic, obviously. Why is it a rule? Because it is, stop asking so many pointless questions. 

He grew up in an environment where he wasn’t meant to question the rules, so to see someone question the rules and everything about the world? He doesn’t know how to handle it. You’re not breaking any rules, but would you if given the chance? Is that ground to collar you? 

Post-overblot, Riddle finds that he quite likes you. He thinks you’re a positive influence, and can balance him out well. If he’s following the rules too hard, he just has to think like you do and ask why the rule exists. He has a little mini-you in his head to keep him in check. 

He likes to walk around Heartslabyul with you. “You get lost too easily” is his main excuse, but he just wants to spend time with you. After all, you're his favorite troublemaker. He has to try to take care of you. 

Platonic - If you were an actual child like Alice, he would try his best to give you all the treats and things he never got to have growing up. He’s pretty over-indulgent, all things considered. He has to stop himself from spoiling your dinner by giving you tarts... 

Trey Clover - 

Trey thinks that you’re very sweet, and bakes you lots of treats. 

Can your questioning be annoying? Yes. Does that mean that he won’t often entertain your questions and try to find answers? No. If anyone in Heartslabyul is willing to answer all of your questions, or at least try to, it’s him. 

The one thing is that he needs to hide all of his sweets from you... ‘Eat Me’ doesn’t actually mean you can eat whatever it is all the time, you know? He has treats you can eat here, just leave those for the unbirthday party later alone! 

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, he goes full dad mode. He makes you lunches and dinners, gives you piggyback rides whenever you want, and invites you over to help you study. he probably has one of those toddler leashes people use for chaotic children for you so you don’t get lost in the garden again. 

Cater Diamond - 

Cater likes how curious you are. It makes him think of you as a younger sibling, and he gets to show you around. He might even hide you away from Riddle if he notices that you’ve been munching on one of his tarts. 

Ask him whatever questions you’d like! He doesn’t have all the answers, but he’ll happily google it or ask MagiCam if they’ve got them. 

Speaking of MagiCam, prepare to be put on there a lot. You have such pretty dresses, like a doll! He loves to take pictures of you in the garden, you blend right in with the other students. If he can get you to stay still for long enough, that is. 

Platonic, Angst - If you’re the same age as Alice was, expect him to try and dote on you a lot. He knows what it’s like to move away from everything and everyone that you love, even if it’s different from you, and he wants to try to make it as easy as he can for you.

Ace Trapolla - 

Ace thinks that you’re a funny person. You’re constantly asking stupid questions, you often eat treats, and you seem to know even less than he does about manners and the Queen of Hearts’ rules. 

And you’re so fun to tease! You’ll get all mad and then run off, or skip the getting mad part to leave and go a different route whenever the garden gets a bit too wild. 

Not to mention, you’ll try just about anything put your way. Expect plenty of pranks from him giving you magical cookies and drinks. They’ll wear off soon enough, but he still wants to have fun while he has to chance. 

Not to mention, you’re just as bad at studying as he is. Talk about fate, you two can run away and skip class to go hang out in the hedge maze together. Just make sure Riddle doesn’t catch you two again... 

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, then Ace somehow becomes a much better person to you. He doesn’t like getting teased by his older brother, so even if he does it to you a bit, it’s not too much. And then he gets you treats and will sometimes carry you around, so he more than makes up for it. 

Deuce Spade - 

Deuce sees you kind of as an enigma. You aren’t too concerned about getting home; You want to, but it doesn’t seem to concern you so much as finding answers to your immediate problems. 

And yet, you still seem so interested in the world, never losing what you wanted to do. Yes, you’ll pout and glare when Riddle corrects you or Ace teases you, but soon enough you’ll go back to your lust for life. It’s commendable to him. 

You’re one of his favorite people, and he wants to protect you. You don’t know how to defend yourself too well, from words or fists, and so he tries his best to do it for you. 

Platonic - If you’re the same age as Alice was, you’ve got a very sweet Duece as an older brother. You’re his younger sibling in his head, and so he’s kind of protective. He tries to help you out to do things, even if he’s hopeless at all kinds of school as well, and makes sure you don’t go down the wrong path like he did. 

Savanaclaw: Belle from Beauty And The Beast

Leona Kingscholar - 

Leona... Oh, Leona. The first thing he wants to do is hit you. Why are you hanging around him? He’s done everything in his power to get away, and yet you refuse to. What is wrong with you? 

And then he gets used to it. Oh the seven, he gets used to it. You’re not in the botanical gardens to read to him during your lunch break? Now you are. He went to the library to go get you, you better follow him. You have work to do so you can’t? Well, no one ever said he had to leave. They can’t tell him to, he’s a prince, anyway. 

Speaking of being a prince, he once made an offhanded comment about his home having a library in the palace. Cue you gushing all about it and Leona trying to figure out if he’d rather take you home to see it or build you your own in Ramshackle. In the end, he does neither, but he does give you his and his brother's NRC and RSA textbooks, respectively. Now you have double the reading material, and Leona only had to sacrifice some of his pride to ask, rather than all of it by bringing you home. 

He starts to fall for you before he realizes it. You’re so nice to him, and never see him as lesser even after he tells you that he doesn’t have the energy to study ever. You just read him the material, and he soon realizes that he picks up on it more when you’re reading. It doesn’t cure him, he still doesn’t show up to class, but at least he feels better about himself now that he’s able to learn something. 

Angst - He doesn’t want to introduce you to his family, but he gets a little more tempted after you talk about your father. His parents weren’t the best, but hearing you talk about him makes him think of his older brother more than anything else. And if you talk about how he got lost badly in the woods once and you couldn’t find him, until the carriage found you, Leona is forced to think about how he and Checka felt when he left for NRC and started barely coming back. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to convince Leona that he can love not just you, and not just his family, but himself as well. 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Ruggie gets you. You both came from places where money was often tight and with one guardian, even if you were in a small village and he was in the slums. Incredibly different in most ways, but similar in enough. He knows what it’s like to have someone tell you you can’t do or be something because of factors you can’t control. 

He likes hearing you talk about yourself. It’s refreshing, to see someone just offering up information without expecting anything in return. He’s not afraid you’re going to hit him like he is at home, and you seem aghast if he brings it up. It’s a lot of fun being with you. 

You read to him, too. Long stories and short ones, and for the first time he’s okay with sitting still for a couple of hours. He loves to nap on you while you read. It’s a great chance for him to relax and for you to be able to share whatever book has your interest at the time. 

Jack Howl - 

Jack thinks that you’re a pretty good person. After all, you treat everyone so nicely. But to him, that isn’t anything special. You’re just another face in the crowd at first. 

But one day, he gets hurt while running near Ramshackle, and you find him. He’s surprised and enamored, not only by how you were able to walk all that way just to explore but also because of how you were able to patch him up so nicely. Someone who can do physical activity and knows enough to do first aid? He’s impressed. 

Afterwards, he starts hanging around you more. He thinks that your love of learning and reading, as well as your adventurous spirit, is beautiful. He wants to get closer to you and become your friend or more. 

Also, that one thing you hear people do where one guy’s doing pushups and the other’s sitting on their back and reading? He does that. Please read aloud to him, he likes hearing your voice and also knowing that you’re also happy when he spends time with you. 

Octavinelle: Ariel from The Little Mermaid 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Azul believes you to be rather useful. After all, you were willing to sign a contract immediately, if it hadn’t been for Grim pulling you out. He could get Ramshackle Dorm all for himself very quickly... 

But then, he hears you singing to yourself, and he decides that he must have your voice. Above all else, he wants to listen to you sing. But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your voice. He thinks having you work for him would be just as good, at first. 

And you trust him after that. He loves it, loves how you draw in customers, and how you don’t think he’s weird or ugly. You trust him, and you believe in him, and it’s wonderful. 

Angst from here down - ...And then you start talking about a human boy. Someone from another dorm, he doesn’t care who. But they have your heart, and you love them, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. You loved him, but now there’s a pretty human boy that you love more, and you’re only coming to Azul for advice on courting? That’s not right.

In the end, Azul does offer you a contract that will give you a love potion in exchange for your voice. This is what he wanted at the start. This is what he wanted, right? Except he doesn’t want it anymore. He hates the fact that he has no excuses to see you, and you only come to Mostro Lounge for dates with your boyfriend, he hates how you only ever want to write to him about your lover rather than talk about any little thing as you used to. 

In the end, he’s the one that turns into seafoam, alone in his office with only a voice to keep him company, having it repeat the only words he wanted to hear. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Jade Leech - 

Jade thinks you to be an interesting subject. A merperson, so set on going up to land that you’re almost squealing for joy every minute. How odd. He wants to study you. 

Once you’re working at the Mostro Lounge, he takes his chance to examine how you behave. He tries feeding you, but you use the forks to do your hair. Interesting, you seem to know much less about the human world than he did when coming here. And the names you come up with for them? How on Earth did you even think of something so out there... 

Angst from here down - Out of the Octavinelle trio, he’s the least jealous on the outside. After all, you’re so cheerful and easily distracted, surely this boy must be just a stranger who’s caught your interest for a moment. Floyd does the same thing all the time, and the boy doesn’t even seem to like you back. You’ll be back to asking him about mushrooms in no time. 

But you aren’t. That’s when he starts to go a bit crazy. You haven’t given up on this human boy, why? Because he has legs? You know that potions give Jade the same thing, right? You’re being silly. What does that boy have that he couldn’t give you, right here where you belong? 

He takes it hardest when you lose your voice. Jade’s always loved control, and it’s something he’s always had. But now, he doesn’t. You’ve decided to leave him, and he wasn’t even given a chance at control. Not even a chance to fix whatever it was that he needed to fix. 

He tries to play it off. Of course, he knew. You must have mentioned it, Azul must have told him. He gaslights himself into thinking it wasn’t any more than a snap decision, that you’ll come back within the week month year and make a contract for your voice back, and then Azul will make you stay. Yes, that’s what will happen. Of course, it will. Of course. It couldn’t be any other way. 

Floyd Leech - 

You’re a really fun Shrimpy. You sing, and you do funny stuff with forks and things. You make a great person to hang out around. You even name objects like he names people! “Dinglehopper”? That’s fun, he’s going to start doing it! 

When you start singing for customers at the Mostro Lounge, he’s ecstatic. He gets more time around you, and more people come that he can squeeze, and Jade and Azul are happy! What more could he want? You’re a great, fun Shrimpy that he wants to spend so much time with and squeeze!

Angst from here down - And then you start talking about a boyfriend. What do you mean he’s not the most important person to you? Do you not care about all of the time you’ve spent together? Was he only ever a placeholder? It seems like it when all your hangout time is now time spent with him. 

Floyd misses you, and when he finds out Azul has your voice, he’s mad. He doesn’t even get a little piece of you, the one thing you left here? You didn’t even tell him about it before you did it? Was he really nothing to you? 

You aren’t able to come back to the Mostro Lounge. If you did, Floyd would either smother you in love or kick you out. He can’t stand the thought of you leaving, so why’d you do it? Why’d you have to up and leave him? Why, Shrimpy, why? 

Scarabia: Jasmine from Aladin 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

You and Kalim hit it off right away. At least, from his perspective, you do. You might find him a little annoying, but you bringing your tiger and talking with him like he was your equal? Kalim is over the moon. You treat him like a Jamil that isn’t working for him! That’s a great friendship. 

Speaking of your tiger, he loves him! He gives him lots of crackers until you have to stop him. That seems to make you mad, but now Kalim’s sneaking the tiger various treats that are healthy for tigers. Or, at least, definitely won’t make him sick. 

You hate him, and Kalim... doesn’t get it. Until he goes to your balcony to take you on a carpet ride. For one reason or another, you decide to get onto the carpet, and it’s magical. Alone with only the sky and Kalim, as well as the carpet, it’s like a whole new world opens up. 

Afterward, Kalim notices you treating him differently, but he’s not upset about it. If anything, he’s happy to get your adventurous side. Prepare to give Jamil a heart attack as you take Kalim out to visit the town without warning or preparations. 

Kalim’s happy that he’s made a friend he can be himself around, without needing to worry about titles or politics. To him, you’re a friend for life. 

Jamil Viper - 

Jamil has mixed feelings for you. On one hand, you’re so wealthy that you seem to be wholly unaware of how the world works. But on the other? He is living for how you dislike Kalim. He’s never been so validated when he sees you roll your eyes or scoff, confirming that it’s not just him who finds him annoying. 

You’re still nobility, though, and the fact that you also depend on Jamil for many things doesn’t make him very happy. What do you mean, just buy a new phone? It’s just a scratch, the phone works fine. What do you mean, it’s not that expensive? WHY IS EVERYONE HE INTERACTS WITH LIKE THIS? 

Once you sneak out and Kalim makes him go to find you, though, Jamil is slightly more endeared to you. You may not know how the world works, but you clearly don’t want to be coddled, something he can appreciate, at the very least. 

He starts teaching you how to cook and various other small tasks. He continues to like you more and more as the days go on, trying your best and trying to help him. And you actually pay attention and learn! He likes you a lot by the end of the first year you spend here, enough to let you do his hair if you really want. 

Pomefiore: Snow White from Snow White 

Vil Schoenheit - 

Vil hates you more than Neige, somehow. He’s jealous, and this time, he can’t make some of it go away by saying that you just have a more attractive brand rather than that he just wasn’t prettier. 

Wherever he goes, you’re the one that draws attention. He doesn’t need to worry about too many fans asking for autographs, but that’s only because they want yours instead. Worried that you’ll be bullied when a dating rumor starts? He was, but then it does and he’s the one being told he’s not good enough. 

He ends up playing into it just because he wants to see what it’s like to date you he’s spiteful that his fans like you more than him. So, he’s going to play into it, then they’ll get used to it and he’ll get even more likes from you being in his photos. All of his problems get solved, easy. 

It isn’t until midway through his plan that he starts to like you. You are genuinely kind to him, so sweet and nice that he can’t help but feel some kind of affection for you. You’re a good person, and in the world of stars, that’s rare. Vil loves that kindness, and even if he’s still ungodly jealous no matter the circumstance, he’s much more forgiving of your lack of flaws when he knows that he’s fallen for it as much as your other fans. 

Rook Hunt - 

Oh, mon Dieu! Quelle beauté! You’re gorgeous to Rook, as much as Vil or Neige. Truly, the Monarque de son cœur. You have a kind heart as much as you have a kind soul, and it’s something Rook finds equally endearing as he does anyone else. 

Rook is well aware of the fact that you’re physically beautiful, as well. Often, he’ll come to you listing off every factor that he can about how gorgeous you are, just to let you know he appreciates it. 

Out of everyone, Rook encourages people to praise you the most. He’s not jealous of your looks or of others appreciating you, he’s simply in love with you and wants everyone to be just as in love. After all, the more people that love you, the more confidence Rook hopes you’ll gain, and that would truly be the best accessory for your joyous soul. 

Translations: (Done with Google Translate)

“Oh, mon Dieu! Quelle beauté!” - “Oh my God! What beauty!” 

“Monarque de son cœur” - “Monarch of his heart”

Epel Felmeir - 

Epel is mildly annoyed by your presence. You’re like everything Vil wants him to be. Feminine, sweet, soft-spoken, pretty, and whatever else. Everything that he doesn’t want to be. 

But then you bring him an apple pie. Well, bring is the wrong word. It implies you were there. You had a group of singing bluejays deliver him slices of a pie you stored in your home so Vil wouldn’t notice. And he kind of gets why Vil wants him to be like you. 

He doesn’t want to be like and he doesn’t dislike you for existing in the wrong space anymore. You’re your own person, and a very cute person at that. That just means that the manly thing to do is to take the sweeter person and protect them, right? So now Epel’s your protector, trying his best to make sure that you stay safe and be the best guardian that he can be. 

Ignihyde: Megara from Hercules 

Idia Shroud - 

Idia is afraid of you. At first, he thought you were like him. A comrade, one that was afraid of talking to people. And then he realized the truth... You didn’t fear people. You just didn’t like them. 

You were someone he couldn’t understand at all. Why wouldn’t you talk to people if you didn’t fear them? Why are you solo-leveling if you’ve got a great team? Are you secretly hiding some kind of special skill? Are you the final boss in disguise? 

But the damage was done. He... Had told Ortho in passing that he thought you might be like him. It was too late for his sanity; His brother’s insistence on keeping his social bar full had kicked in. How was he supposed to interact with you after such a wrong assumption? 

You were too snarky when he was gaming, too. What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look that hard’?! Fine, then, you try! And while you’re at it, here’s his UID in every game he’s ever played! How you like it now, you’re just a level one newb and he’s- Oh the seven what has he done. Now you’ve got access to all his accounts. 

Please just let him crawl into a hole and die a peaceful death. That would be preferable to you bursting into his room to demand answers as to how these games work or for him to invite you into a higher-level dungeon so you can get more rewards. And you don’t just stand to the side and let him fight! At least then it would be a challenge with what characters he could use, but no! You’re in distress, but then you tell him to leave and ‘Have a nice day’ once he tries to save you from the monsters! Why are you like this... 

He does end up enjoying the time you spend with him, though. Once you two open up to each other, about your past lover’s and his brother’s deaths, he feels like he really has a friend. You can tell him that you owe him for getting you into games or for helping you out all you want, but to Idia, you’re the one that he owes. 

Ortho Shroud - 

Ortho loves you. Then again, Ortho loves most people. But especially you. You’re like another older sibling! 

Yes, you’re a bit rude and you seem to send Idia into a state of panic every time you enter the room, but that’s okay! Everyone has their flaws, and to Ortho, you’re just another option for a friend. And his big brother’s, at that! Did you know Idia could make friends on his own? He seemed to have all of these guesses about your personality, but that’s more interest than he shows most people, so at least you’re something with a pulse he can look at! 

He’s cheerful enough to break down your cold exterior. Not only is he a good person, but he’s also loyal and helpful, something you haven’t experienced in a long time. Give him a little while, and he might help bring your personality back to the kinder person you were before the world jaded you. Not in every way, of course, but as your self-appointed little brother, Ortho sure does try to bring you at least some joy. 

Diasonia: Briar Rose/Aurora from Sleeping Beauty 

Malleus Dracona - 

You’re quite the friend for Malleus, and he appreciates you very much. You’re kind and sweet, and you aren’t afraid of him in the slightest. No, more than anything, you seem happy to discuss fairytales with him. 

Malleus appreciates you falling asleep in front of him more than you realize, and more than he thought he would. It’s a form of trust to him. You trust that in your sleep, he won’t attack. He won’t hurt you or kidnap you. Considering the places you fall asleep in, he even sees it as you trusting him to protect you. He’s your guardian dragon now, and you’re never getting away from him. 

If given the chance, he will marry you, especially knowing how you always dreamed of living inside of a fairytale. He wants to make you an actual prince or princess if you give him the chance. That way, your childhood dream can come true, and his modern one can. 

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Lilia loves you. You’re just like Silver! Kind, sleepy, and lovely to everyone. He’s a bat dad at heart, and he’ll try to father you like a broody chicken would a rock. 

He likes to make you various outfits, mostly in pink or blue, or sometimes both, and also tries cooking for you. He doesn’t do very well, but once he almost manages to bake you a cake. It was half-baked and fell over after he tried to move it, but there was an attempt. 

He likes to tease you about how much you sleep, but he’s always willing to help you out. If you ever fall asleep at Diasonia, you’ll wake up with a pillow under your head and a blanket covering you. Even if he doesn’t say it, it’s obvious who left them once you start finding him cuddled up to you. 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

Silver thinks that you’re an endearing person. After all, you’re willing to watch over him while he’s napping or nap with him. He’s even woken up to you making flower crowns for him and the various animals in the woods! It was very nice of you all. 

Expect stories from him. He loves to tell you stories, and then watch you laugh and smile with them. 

And you get along with the forest creatures! They stole his jacket once, and when he woke up and you were in a clearing, dancing and humming with them, he fell for you so hard. 

He’s happy that you’re willing to spend so much time with him even though he falls asleep so much. If you ever let him use you as a pillow, he’ll be eternally thankful. 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

Sebek does not like you. Not one bit. 

He already has Silver to deal with, and now you’re falling asleep, too! What is he to do, having to defend you two when you’re tired AND Malleus! 

But when you’re awake, he thinks that you’re fine. 

You’re curious, but that’s good because you’re also observant. A fine thing to have when you’re with a knight. 

Besides, you like listening to him talk about classic fae stories. You call them fairy tales, but you are more interested than most humans, and he gives you credit for recognizing how amazing the fae are. 

Ramshackle: Belle (Scrooge’s Previous Fiance) from A Christmas Carol  

Ghosts - 

The ghosts think you’re a wonderful person. 

You take care of things around the house, and you don’t mind the chills sometimes, or when they sneak up on you. 

They wish that you weren’t so used to living without much, but that’s okay. They can protect you now that you’re here. 

Telling them stories about your old world is lots of fun for them. After all, they don’t get out of Ramshackle dorm often. Hearing your love and subsequent tragedy is their new favorite story. 

Grim - 

Grim sees you like an older sibling figure. 

You’re sweet, and you don’t care for money, but rather just want to have a good time living with him in Twisted Wonderland. 

He finds your love of other people and kids annoying and takes it upon himself to become your protector of sorts. No one can break your heart again if he’s there to stop them! 

Speaking of heartbreak, if you tell him stories of your previous fiance, and how greedy he was, he’ll take it upon himself to give you a bit of his tune. You’re his henchmen, you should know that makes you better than all the other humans! He was stupid for not marrying you when he had the chance! 

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[missnxthingg]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - Little throwback to Lando's win in Miami for the sake of the story. I think we all Lando girlies need to relieve this for a moment 🧡 raise a hand if you miss this moment (bc I surely do).

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

yourusername

London, England

yourusername Enjoying some time with my best friend at home 💖

landonorris wonder who gave her that dollhouse 🤔

landonorris my pretty girls, i miss you

↪ yourusername stop whinning and go enjoy ur trip, dickhead (we miss u too) ↪ landofan4 friendship goals fr

ln4stan Ollie is the cutest omg

yourmomusername What lovely ladies! I love you

↪ yourusername we love you, momma

username1 we need to see this duo with lando again

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando Norris is enjoying King's Day with his friend, Martin Garrix, in Amsterdam, and ended up getting his nose injured. What do you think happened?

username1 did he get into a fight????

username2 for fuck sake, we have a race in a week!

username3 omg bless y/n so she can try making his image better for the media in miami

username4 i NEED to know what happened with him

username5 @.yourusername mother, feed us with info, please! 🥺

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: He's well and alive, might kill him later for the scare (just a glass cut, no fighting)

landonorris added to their stories

Caption: This is an apology for making her so concerned about a nose cut

landopriv added to their stories

Caption: Gave her the scare of her life @.yourusername and made up to her after a cuddling afternoon, brunch, NBA game and tomorrow the beach

↪ yourusername replied to your story: all forgiven after the pampering 💘 ↪ landopriv: love you, idiot

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: Who let this idiot bring a camera along with him? Keep him away from me. Every time I blink: FLASH!

↪ landonorris: you're no fun 🙄

yourusername

Miami, Florida

yourusername Miami on film 🏖

landonorris you're as hot as miami, baby

↪ username1 OH MY FUCKING GOD ↪ username2 boy is down bad for her 🥵 ↪ username3 Lando can't even pretend he isn't in love with her anymore ↪ yourusername police he has escaped again

username4 do you guys think he took the photos or that she stole his camera?

↪ username5 he definitely took them! we saw him carrying the camera everywhere and they were at the beach earlier

f1

f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX

landofan HE DID IT GUYS!

mclarengirly OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE

ln4bitch oh man we just know he's gonna party HARD

yourusername I've never been more proud 🥺

↪papayafan y/n please tell lando we love him! 🧡 ↪lanfan4 give him the biggest kiss and the tighest hug for me

landonorris

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1

username1 WE DID IT LANDO!

username2 Longest time coming! Congratulations, Lan 🧡

username3 My man!!! LFG

yourusername I AM THE PROUDEST

yourusername love you so much, you idiot. P FUCKING ONE! 🧡

↪landonorris i love you more, muppet ❤ ↪username4 your honor, i love them ↪username5 MOM AND DAD ARE GIVING PDA

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando Norris and his best friend, Y/N L/N, partying together in Miami after his win. Some people that were at the party reported on our DMs that they didn't keep away from each other all night and were missing from the party for a while. Do you think they celebrated it in a more special way? 💋👀

username1 Lord, I'm ready for them to be a couple

username2 i saw they leaving the club hand in hand last night, guys! they were alone and very much in a hurry to get out of there

↪username3 how do you know if you're telling the truth? ↪username2 you can check my profile, i was at the paddock today and after the gp, my friend and i followed them around town to party too!

username4 i saw this dude that swore they were kissing in the back of the club ln, but it's not something i can 100% confirm

↪username5 Can we please stop speculating on their friendship? They both have expressed they hate when people start forcing a relationship onto them.

username6 at this point, i'm just waiting for y/n's special post for lando on insta

yourusername

Miami, Florida

yourusername I knew you were special on the first time I saw your muppet face in my office. I've been your biggest fan ever since; rooting and praying for this day to finally come. I've never been so proud of you, Lan. Longest time coming to this moment. I love you so much, my grand prix winner – even though you got me so drunk we missed our flight today. Now enjoy some podium pics I took yesterday + a cute one from the hottest duo in Miami last night.

tagged: landonorris

landonorris I love you so much! Can't imagine life without my partner in crime. You being there made everything even more special

↪yourusername Stop or I'll cry again ↪landonorris Will be an honour to make you cry for me twice 😂

username1 GUYS WAKE UP Y/N POSTED ABOUT LAST NIGHT

username2 name a prettier friend duo, i'll wait

↪landonorris me too ↪yourusername me three

yourmotherusername Olivia has been non stop since the finish line! She can't wait to see her favourite uncle ❤ Congratulations, Lando

↪landonorris thank you so much, mrs l/n ❤ and tell ollie uncle lan loves her very very much ↪username3 now we're gonna have to wait until ollie and lando reunion after miami 😭 ↪yourusername promise to come back with pictures

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader masterlist all contain nsfw (18+) or at least suggestive content. please read cw before engaging.

notes about reader: described as curvy, has hair long enough to hold, grew up without money and has none to her name, mentions having little to no family -> as always, the reader is a character herself, but i’ve tried my best to give little to no physical description and no native country of origin

a collection of stories about lieutenant simon "ghost" riley and his childhood best friend who he is really, totally not even a little in love with.

new uniform -> you get a new job

lingering customer -> your new job is complicated

tomorrow is just a day too late -> simon loses some self-control

simon helps you tie your shoes -> simon loses control again

non-negotiable -> simon makes a difficult decision

just another day -> december 25th is just another day

it's only dinner -> a homecooked meal

friends don't keep secrets -> lying to simon is never a good idea

war paint -> simon gets his face painted

the first time she sees who you really are -> simon makes a mistake

hide and seek -> simon has nothing left to lose

background player -> simon introduces you to a friend

written in stone -> mine, mine, mine, mine

if you would like to know when i post something new, please turn on notifications for @bi-has-written.

no taglist. it updates when i get thoughts, which lately has been frequent.

back to complete masterlist

[imsandra]

I see

Pairing: Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N, a couple who have shared a long and deep connection, face a crisis in their relationship.

Warning: Angst, sadness

Word Count: 1489

Notes: Hi! This is my first time writing, I hope you like this story and leave your comments about what you thought, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is with the motivation to teach and with respect. English is not my language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

The story is original, I wrote it myself. Please do not copy and plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs and likes that I receive. Kisses ❤️.

Happy reading!

He see (2)

Azriel had always enjoyed waking up next to her every morning. His black-and-white days, she painted them golden like the light of day, like the sun at every dawn; with a calm like the waters of the River Sidra. But things fall apart, and time breaks hearts.

During the first years of their relationship, life was a garden with beautiful colors, a clear sky, many flowers, and a large fountain full of futures. And so it lasted for centuries, until that garden was no longer watered and that fountain gradually dried up.

Another night in which he doesn't show up again, again, again...

Tonight, was or is the night of their anniversary. Y/N sat in the dining room she had decorated as she had many times for a romantic dinner, dressed in a beautiful dress, but the master of spies never arrived.

The next morning, she heard the door of the room they shared open. She just kept pretending to be asleep and that she hadn't cried all night as she had the last few times, and he could only observe the figure of the woman who had once calmed every nightmare with the warmth of her arms, as if she were only constant agony instead of his peace.

Y/N was walking through the streets of Velaris on her way to work when Azriel bumped into her and the coffee she was holding spilled on both of them. The beautiful girl couldn't have a worse day than that, she was late and her favorite coffee was spilled on the chest of the handsome man who was now holding her hand to keep her from falling to the floor. When she finally looked up, each of their senses felt stunned, his and hers. Azriel could only see her beautiful eyes, her face kissed by the rays of the sun, her lips so pure, while she couldn't take her eyes off his honey-brown eyes like the coffee she ordered every morning, her dark hair like the night she saw through her window at home.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry," Azriel stammered, embarrassed, and released her hand as slowly as possible so as not to lose her warmth so quickly.

Y/N smiled slowly, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it happens to anyone, I should thank you for saving my butt from that horrible puddle on the floor," she said, laughing in the most nervous way she had ever been.

Azriel couldn't help but laugh. "I think I owe you a new coffee," he said as he looked at his stained shirt.

"Maybe, but I think it will be another time," she said smiling.

Who could forget that day?

"So, can you tell me where you were last night?" Y/N asked in a resigned voice.

"On a mission in the Summer Court," replied the shadow-singer, a vague answer that meant nothing to her.

"A mission, what smells of lotus flower and a touch of lavender? Tell me," she questioned with a calm voice but was more than broken.

"Y/N, let's not start this argument again."

For Azriel, it was just another argument, just one more he had that day. He couldn't see that he was doing things wrong. That with each passing day, he was breaking her a little more. He was the cause of it.

Y/N stared fixedly at Azriel, searching for any sign that he was willing to tell her what was going on. She was giving him an opportunity, and he was simply rejecting it.

"Honey, you look tired," Feyre whispered from the other side of the coffee table.

"I am, every day, I am," Y/N said in a choked voice as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Azriel is an important part of the family, but so are you. You're my friend and it hurts me to see you like this, like a ghost waiting in the corner of the room where he's not going to come in," Feyre told Y/N as she hugged her and stroked her hair.

There was no worse torture than feeling one's own heart bleeding in the darkness, while despair consumed her day after day, wondering what she had done to deserve such pain.

The front door opened and Y/N entered. She didn't expect to find Azriel in the living room. It was strange to see him sitting there with his gaze lost in the wall. He turned to look at her but could no longer see the spark that had kept the flame alive once, and she could no longer see that look that would tell her that no matter what happened, he would always be there. Two strangers living in the same house, two people who had been lovers.

Neither of them knew what to say, neither was willing to let go, not for love, but out of habit.

"I'm glad you're home," Y/N whispered, breaking the silence.

Azriel didn't answer. Deep down, he knew he had crossed the line, that it wasn't his home anymore.

"Did you ever think of telling me?" the woman he considered the love of his life moaned. "Did you ever see me through her when you kissed her?" as she continued to question, raising her voice a little more each time. "Didn't I make you happy?"

"Y/N..." Azriel whispered, before being interrupted by the woman who was his girl.

"No, no, don't try to lie to me," the beautiful woman shouted, knowing that her beloved would try to do it like the last time, but she was so tired.

"I wasn't going to, it was never my intention, but I had to do it to know," the shadow-singer expressed with a lump in his throat.

"Know what? That you didn't want to be with me anymore?" she affirmed with a broken voice.

"Yes," Azriel revealed.

The shadow-singer watched as the woman who was his, tears welled up in her eyes, as she crumbled at the affirmation of the fact she already sensed. Azriel couldn't help but wonder where his decision would lead him. Would she be okay? Would he regret it? He took a step forward to try to comfort her, and she couldn't help but take a step back when she saw that he wanted to get closer to her.

With the sharp pain in her soul and with tears running down her cheeks, the same ones he had kissed, she approached him while taking off the necklace Azriel had given her on their fifth anniversary as a symbol of pure love, one that would transcend even death. What a great lie, for her, in his eyes he was a liar, a promise breaker.

Y/N extended the hand that held the necklace with a yellow stone, a happiness that evaporated over time. Azriel was forced to accept it back, he knew her more than anything and yet he made his decision.

"I want you to leave," the woman ordered as she looked him directly in the eyes, for him to see how she broke him, how she broke them.

"She is my mate," Azriel revealed with watery eyes and a look of longing.

For him, a mating bond had always been important, feeling his other half through the bond, so he decided to get to know the other woman while Y/N always waited for him awake every night to welcome him home. She, who had always made him happy despite considering herself a complicated person and unworthy of that love. He wanted to stay with her, but his yearning was stronger.

"I see, you chose her, her who barely knows you, not me who has spent almost my whole life with you, wishing you would always spend time with me," Y/N whispered with a broken voice and full of pain. "I want you to leave Azriel," she asked again.

"Forgive me Y/N, I didn't want it to end like this," he murmured, and so the shadow-singer took his things and crossed the threshold.

The door he had crossed so many times with joy just because he would find her on the other side waiting for him, but she would never wait for him again, not anymore.

She collapsed on the floor when the door clicked shut, crying over the loss of a love, like a sad song in the dark room her heart beat. What she thought was going to be forever, was momentary.

I read them!