(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

i don’t wanna make it , i just wanna—

[kittentoby]

beginner writer. african american. baby pink. aries. deer. creepypasta. invincible. hayden christensen. slowest writer in the universe. i looove ticci toby. my hero academia. i looove izuku. i love cats. csm. angel devil. mcr

masterlist ִֶָ𓂃 working on requests ִֶָ𓂃 sfw & nsfw blog !

[90smoonstar]

𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔶𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞 --

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔰 ; Toby hurts himself more than he thinks-and it pisses you off. He doesn't realize he shouldn't have to tear himself apart just to feel a little bit of something, anything. Guess you'll have to teach him that even the littlest things count, when you act like they matter most.

𝔠𝔴; gore, death , somewhat detailed self-harm (for Toby, can vaguely be implied for reader) , masculine/male reader in mind.

𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔪𝔢 -- 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢

Toby had absolutely no self control of himself, you knew this very well. It wasn’t some secret no one in the house was forbidden to know, it was nearly the first thing you learned about him. The small jerks of his body, the whistles leaving his lips when it was the quietest, the small stutters on certain phonetics. It was things you’d grown used to living with him and going on missions with him. You never minded like some of the others did, something like what he had to deal with was out of his control-something he was born to deal with for all his life. He never seemed to mind it, never even paid it any attention though. Throughout all his ticking and all his problems, he never seemed to be deterred by himself. You almost thought he was strong for not giving any reaction to his own self ruin.

However, you slowly began to notice how he never reacted to most things at all. When he’d fight with the other guys, he’d only give the biggest grin that his face could possibly give. Maybe it was to impress you, maybe he was just having fun. You picked up on how even when it was winter, when you had to dig your nails into your sleeves-forming any type of pain to distract you from your frozen feet. Toby stood there as if it was if the freezing temperature was just a breeze. Soft wind hitting whatever skin he’d leave out, which wasn’t much. He’d run through the snow as if he wasn’t going to fall on his ass as soon as his converse met the snow. And yet, he never even seemed to wince when he got hypothermia. In fact, he acted like he never even knew he had it.

All those little things made you start to see him so differently, to view him in so many ways that plagued your mind. Even worse, it made you stare more than you wanted to. When he was on the couch, you’d stare. When he was talking with Clockwork or attempting to annoy Masky and Hoodie, your eyes went to his before you went on with yourself. And whenever you had to pass by his room, your feet would stop you. And you’d linger, just staring at the tarnished wood putting a barrier between him and you. Sometimes you found yourself squinting, as if you were trying to imagine-see what he was doing behind that closed door. Was he sleeping? Was he cleaning his weapons? Or was he just watching corny shows on his busted up TV? You could never figure it out.

On missions when he hatched into the fresh flesh of a civilian. You didn’t walk away to gather information or to laugh at the person's pain. You stared at him, how his eyes almost sharpened like he was hyper focused. And how tight his grips gripped around the handle of his hatchet. He grabbed at things like he couldn’t understand just how deep his nails dug into whatever fabric and skin that went his way. But what really made you think were his fingers. You never paid attention to it until you two managed to just be in the quiet together-and your eyes had dragged down to his fingers. Peeking through his fingerless gloves, you saw the pink of his bare flesh. You saw how most of his wounds were ghastly, evidence of picking at his own wounds clear.

You memorised how his teeth were structured just by the indents he made when he bit into his palm. You hated that you knew how his two front teeth usually left the most damage because he never knew how to quit. And you disdained the fact your head would snap each time he raised his hand. You just knew when he would pick at his skin and when he was going to bite himself. You learned his small habits, you watched Toby hurt himself because he never knew he was going so far. You knew he couldn’t feel the pain a person like him should when he did those things. Toby was hurting himself, and you were watching him. You stared as he was doing one of the worst things, he was killing himself. And ever so slowly.

For once you actually thought about someone, not just in a way in which you would defend your ‘partners’ on missions to keep yourself from the lecture at the cabin. You began to think of the consequences of his own self harm. How that big scab on his left palm would never fully heal because he always had his eyes on it. Whenever he didn’t have any other space for a new cut or bite, he picked at that one. Your mind came to form a monstrous idea of Toby, how he wouldn’t be able to even twitch his fingers after it would become infected. And how even through all of it, he’d smile. You hated the way your mind almost made you feel fear, how it almost made you sweat when you thought too long.

Only after a few weeks did you finally start intervening, it first started with weak endeavors to distract him before he could do anything. Frail attempts of ‘did you hear that?’ or even ‘I think I saw someone’ to perk his interest. But it always ended up with him nibbling on the side of his palm as you talked, you almost wanted to yell. Maybe at him, maybe even yourself. You didn’t know why you wanted him to stop, maybe you just hated the sight of it, maybe you just cared more than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t understand yourself anymore than he could. It fucking sucked. You had to switch your tactics up, you had to be more straightforward. Each time his hand raised, you’d slap it back down. When his hand slowly guided his other out of habit, you found yourself grabbing at his hand. Not like a gentle intertwine, but rather a harsh hold, a warning. It didn’t matter if he had splinters, or numerous amounts of infected blood on his hands.

You always kept him in line, at least you hoped so. But as everything in your life altered slowly, you had to realize that a guy like Toby wasn’t bound to change the way you expected him to.

“S..Stop that.” He finally muttered, a lenient yet firm yank of his arm brought a frown to your lips. You couldn’t see just how deep his frown was, but you could tell it was there from the way his eyes sharpened just for a moment. Now, if he had said this the first time you had done it, maybe you would’ve been quiet, a little embarrassed even. But you weren’t, this was becoming more of a nuisance to him and yourself. And you weren’t going to go without expressing it. “You stop.” You huffed, his fingers trailing to trail across his other hand, his index and middle fingers close to each other-ready to pinch any skin he could get between his nails. Your hand pulled at his roughly than you’d liked. “Quit it.” You demanded to no avail, he shrugged you off harshly. His feet came in front of the other a bit quicker.

He groaned, it could barely be heard through his mask, but you caught it. And it made you even more annoyed. You wish he'd realize this wasn't just a habit to endure. It was at the brink of something horrible, it was a lick of danger that concerned his whole well-being. This was a taste of torture for the both of you. “Don't do that.” You followed behind, your footsteps heavier than needed. Your irritation built a high flame aimed at his back-how dare he block you out like this? “Don't act like you know what's good for me.” Your shoes dug into the snow, the crunch filling the silence. His arms bent, you knew his hands rested in front of his chest. You could just tell. That scab on his left palm, you just knew he was picking at it as he always did. Your legs moved before you could process your own actions. You walked ahead of him, fingers seconds away from curling around his hand. Before you could guide his hand away, his hand snapped to yours. It was tight, his nails dug into your cold skin. Immediately causing a stinging burn to bliss into your flesh.

His body pushed against yours until your back hit a tree, even through your clothes-the bark poked at your skin, itchy and displeasing against your body. Your wrist was pinned high against the tree, his eyes reeked of someone who almost knew he was hurting you. Yet he didn't move. He wouldn't. His eyes were not flickering elsewhere, and the only movement he made was when his head snapped to the side. A small whistle escaping his lips, smooth and fast. It made your eyes stay on him, his eyes were direct like he wanted this to mean something you'd truly learn. “You k..know nothing of me.” He stated, his grip tightening. “Don't act all h-human to me. Anything human in us died out years ago.” He leaned in, his eyes scrunched as if he was contemplating. Maybe if he should swing his hatchet at you, or to leave you here. You didn't speak a word, eyes only flickering to all over his face. How could he even know what it's like to feel human? All his life he's felt nothing, he had no say in anything of the discussion of ‘being humane’. Your lips dropped, and his grip tightened-your head snapping back to him. You hadn't even realized you had been staring at his boots, the snow covering it.

“You know nothing of humanity.” You whispered, “How could you know anything about being humane when you've never felt it?” You paused, your fingers twitching in the cold air. You leaned closer, his mask almost brushing your face. “Let alone felt anything?” You finally added, his eyes finally for once-flickered. And he croaked out a noise, his other hand moved, clumsily albeit. It was like he didn't know where to put his hand, but he knew he had to place it somewhere. And it found your throat, although his grip on your neck didn't match his grip on your wrist. It was barely a choke, it was a defensive hold. It was pathetic. And it made you scoff, and you turned your head up as if it was all nothing. And almost as if..you dared him to tighten it. “Look at your hands, your fingers.” You whispered, almost like an animal, his eyes flickered to his fingers. His eyes shook, his body was moving on his own-his body was following your words as if they meant something. He fucking hated it, he hated you.

He could see it, each small scab and cut, the big indent he left from biting his palm earlier still hadn't faded. His skin looked vile compared to yours. Unlike him, you weren't so pale. Unlike him you knew your limit to self mutilation, you knew when to stop with yourself. He couldn't stand thinking like this. “You're like me.” He argued, his eyes squinting as his fingers curled more around your neck. Now not a hold, but a hug around your skin. “You do things to yourself too. Just like everyone else.” He muttered, he scowled, his eyes flicking to your arms-covered or not, he knew. He just knew you were just like him. You were just trying to be better-

“I know the limit.” You said, your eyes drained of any sharp reaction from his touch, let alone his words. “Do you?”

He paused, the sharpness in his eyes faded faster than you could register. Just for a second. His grip loosened on you completely, the hand on your wrist stayed-yet lost all its meaning. And his hand on your neck loosened, sliding down the curve of your body until it dropped fully. You almost shivered from his lack of delicacy. But you wouldn't, not like this. His head dropped a bit, in thought as you pulled yourself slightly away from the tree. You stared at him, tilting your head slowly. He slowly tilted his head as well, opposite to you. He stepped back, “Not like you’d s-show me.” His voice low, almost too quiet to even be considered a mumble. For once, your eyes widened, incredulously. Did he really say that? Imply such words? You were almost sure you couldn’t break him down to his core, let alone in that way. Yet he walked away like he was sullen, like you cracked him just a bit. And for once, you almost felt the control shift tilt to you just a smidge. His figure became smaller and smaller the more you stood still, he wasn’t to wait for you. You didn’t know if you wanted him too, just so you could give him a look-something to tick him off. But he just continued to walk, hands in pockets like he was some angsty teen. But he was far more than that.

You pursed your lips, before you ran to catch up to him-just by a little.

Getting to the target's home took awhile, you were almost surprised it wasn’t peeking daylight with how long you were walking. If it was any other day or time, you’d spend your last few moments of talking to complain about the burning in your legs. But there wasn’t time for such, not when it's a mission like this. You remembered it clearly, one moment you and your partners were discussing the logistics of an old mission far too old to even care for. Next moment, a brief flash of light beckoned your eye. Snapping your head, all you saw was those two shadows where the flicker came from, and all you heard was small whispering. Hints of one in a hurry, and one in shock-’I got the shot!’ they spoke as they ran. ‘I got the shot!’ they exclaimed, as if they won something, as if they were going to get away with any evidence of your or any of your partners existence. It almost made you feel a little bit of pity for what's to come, almost. It’s far too late to try and have a chance of heart in any form when you and Toby were already inside their bedroom. Lingering over their sleeping bodies, how could anyone capture anything like they capture and not stay up all night terrified? You’d never know.

You stood beside the floor, your eyes were soft, yet focused on the two bodies that lay. One man laid on the bed as comfy as one could be. The other, on the floor beside the door, you could already think of how exactly their plan laid out. One would stay awake and watch the door while the other could sleep, too bad they decided the wrong guy to stay on duty. He was out like a light, shotgun discarded long before he would even notice. Seemed like a heavy sleeper. His snores didn’t fill the room, but they were enough to cover your footsteps against the creaky floor. So loud that they didn’t even twitch when Toby stepped to the end of the bed. Hatchet squeezed in his hand, and his breath steady, yet so hearable. He had been standing there for awhile, it was slowly getting awkward. Usually, he’d give a few moments to just watch the person, see if they’re truly awake or attempt to try some escape by playing dead. But this was taking awhile. You felt your lips stretch in a frown, and you squinted your eyes. Your fingers brushed the wall behind you before you blew out from your nose.

His head took its time turning to you, only the man’s snores filled the silence. Toby cracked his head to the side, you couldn’t see those eyes with the distance between you. And not with those glasses. Your eyes flickered to him, then to the men snoozing. It hit him like he was off in some other world. But it didn’t seem like that world was the thought of going home, or even waffles. Somewhere far deeper. But he straightened himself, “Right.” He muttered, his other hand gripping the hatchet tightly. Arms raising in what you could almost call precision, before the sharp blade buried deep into the man’s thigh. He twitched, not fully taking it in-until his eyes were on the hatchet. Only then did it click what was happening, and his eyes widened, and a scream was forced out his mouth. It pierced your ears as he struggled, grasping the sheets as Toby climbed onto the sheets to aim higher.

You didn’t move, Toby didn’t need any help. He liked it when it was messy, he loved it when they struggled, well for the most part. As he cut into the man as if he was nothing but wood-the other man immediately began to sit up. Seeing his brother, friend-whoever he was being slaughtered must’ve hurt him badly. And he immediately lunched to push Toby off. Too bad his emotions stopped him from thinking, and too bad he couldn’t even imagine the possibility that Toby wasn’t alone. He tried to save his partner, who was trying to save himself. Only knowing you were there when he felt his neck begin to burn, before it bled viciously. Spraying all over those white sheets as he tried to grasp his throat, squeezing it to stop the blood and yet; nothing helped. He slumped back onto the ground, eyes purely wide with how wide they were. Twitching, his body fighting to stay alive when every bit of life was draining out from his throat. You softened your grip on your weapon, eyes on him until he stopped moving.

Then you turned to Toby, he was struggling-the man on the bed had grabbed at his hatchet, trying to push him off-trying to kick and scream to alert somebody, anybody. But it all came in vain, he couldn’t push his strength to the max even with all the adrenaline building up in him. The only thing he could do was scratch at Toby as he hacked into him. Even when his face was split in half, even when his eyes were blinded with his blood-he grasped at Toby’s hair. Pulling harshly-as much as his body could give. His screams slowly turned into a slow whine as his head finally cracked. Only then did his hands slowly drop to the sheets, releasing the grip he had on his hair. Now he was nothing but a body, someone with no name that would only attract flies. Well, flies if you keep him there. Toby straightened himself up, an exhale that left as a whistle near the end of it. He stared down at his mess, no confidence or excitement left him. That silence again, not the ones you needed when breaking in or such-the awkward kind.

You shifted on your feet, wetting your lips with your tongue. “Wrap him in the sheets,” You gestured, to his confusion. He forced a hum out his throat, cracking his head to the side. You frowned, gesturing rougher “He could have your hair, skin under his nails. We can’t leave him here.” Toby kept his silence for a moment, before he made a small sound, something like an ‘oh’ in realization. Before he shifted to slowly move off the sheets and to wrap him up, you went to the side of the bed to assist him. “The brain is unusable, but maybe Jack could make use of the other organs.” You say quietly, wrapping him in the sheets as tightly as you could. After, Toby wrapped his arms around the body, a large huff leaving him as he laid it on his shoulder. You didn’t comment on it, you simply stepped over the other man’s corpse, abandoning him in the house. You doubt you left anything on him, you weren’t as uncoordinated as Toby most of the time. And either way, you didn’t care-no one would figure you out anyway.

As you stepped down off the porch, your eyes flickered to Toby, he had shrugged his mask down. And was now nibbling on the side of his hand as he carried the corpse with his other hand. Your fingers twitched, you almost wanted to stop him once more. But your fingers only went to your wrist, rubbing it heedlessly. “We should get rid of his head.” You gestured to him, Toby’s eyebrows furrowed at your words. “He can handle the mess,” He argued as your feet buried into the snow with each step. The snow had gotten thicker in the time you were inside, at least you think so. “Just because he can handle it, doesn’t mean he likes it.” You poke at his side, he barely even gives the slightest suggestion that it affected him. He didn’t bother to respond, there was no reply worth expressing. And your eyes lingered, not on his fingers but his face. He was nibbling on his hand, but it seemed so lack luster. Could he even feel the nibbling he was doing? It was too soft for even him. But you kept quiet, for this time.

part two is coming in a few !! thank you for reading !

[kittentoby]

SCOTT BARRİNGER FICS PLEASE

and ofc , ofc !

next on my list as well , thank you for being patient.

[kittentoby]

I love your writing and you’re so creative!

Can you pleaseee continue with the mark Grayson college storyy. Maybe one wheres there’s a rumour on campus and they get into an argument and it all just ends up being solved a different way. Like angsty smut.

Hope you see this, stay creative and never quit

I just wanna let you know that I’m working on it rn ! I have more free time now. No exact due date , but I’m gonna try to be speedy about this !

thank you so so much anon for being patient , and this is incredibly motivating to me. thank you again.

hope this message finds you well <3

[kittentoby]

⋆‧° 𓏲ּ𝄢 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ( ꣑ৎ )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, DIARY ENTRY 𝐎𝐍𝐄: starting with a flashback to how you and Knight! Toby used to be. You’re a princess, Toby Rogers is a knight. You two are young and in love, but can’t be together due to kingdom affairs— and Human! Jack Nyras, a prince who’s supposed to be engaged to you. This is intended to be a mini-series.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, fem reader , kingdom AU , and not very canon , a bit out of character , starts off with flashback

You and Toby were close, at least when you were seventeen. You were young and naive, believing that you and Toby were mature enough to make your own decisions. Living in a kingdom will quickly make you realize that whatever prowess you think you possess can be easily crushed with tremendous power in the blink of an eye.

Buried beneath the burdensome iron and steel, there was a boy who dearly and tenderly cherished his princess. He was loyal to you, your kingdom, and the ruler whom he served. He was good at what he did, even as a squire. Silver sword dexterously impaling enemies. It was second nature to Tobias Erin Rogers. The brown-haired boy was intense when it came down to service. He dedicated everything to the person who had rescued him from the slums, saved him from ridicule, and trained him.

He was a passionate blend of sadisticness and meekness. Sweet-tempered only to you. Deadly silent and obedient to others, especially when it came to his ruler, like a compliant guard dog snarling at the mouth, baring his teeth at those who dared to bother his loved ones. However, he’d always come back to the flowered garden with you, lying in the flaccid grass devoid of his hefty helmet, nimbly holding your hand up to his scarred mouth, gingerly kissing the backs of your fingers as they involuntarily curl flusteredly.

It was something you two shared. You both wanted to stay blissful like this. But there was this agonizing tick in the back of your mind, like a clock, serving as a reminder that you still had political duties and relationships to upkeep for the sake of your kingdom. Unfortunately, this means you will be engaged to Jack Nyras when you reach the age to do so. A boy you didn’t even know well or care about. He was to come to the kingdom tomorrow. Dreadfully, you withdrew your hand away from his, tucking it in the lap of your poofy, white dress.

“Your h—highness,” Toby stammered, "is something wrong?” He looked intensely at your form, burying his arms into his own lap, trying to give space the best way he could as you vented. Not much needed to be said, as what was to come on the next day weighed greatly on your minds. You sway back to him warily, glimpsing through your lashes. “You know what I’m thinking about.” He groaned before tightening his lips, offering a silent but defensive nod back as a response.

You continued, “Maybe we could run away...?” A stupid, childish thought. It’s easier said than done to escape from a kingdom as powerful as yours. Both of you were seventeen, and attempting to flee isn't easy at all, considering your positions. Tobias wasn’t just a regular squire; he was one of the most promising and loyal ones. And you were in a position of royalty.

A throaty swallow before he continued. “R-run away?” He repeated. Marking where the conversation tread into uncharted territory. Running away was an ungraspable thought. Run back to the foul arms of commoners who shunned him for his ‘behavior?’ Back out to the place, cold and unsure if you were going to live or die. 

He yearned for residence in a place brimming with security and affection pouring from every angle, all for him. It’s something he’s always desired after being deprived of it. Your father granted his wish. Blessing him with a place that he could finally call home long after years of torment, where instead, he could be seen for his victories instead of his differences.

“If we pack our things and bring a map and money, then maybe we could finally be together and even—” He interrupted, “I—I swore never to disobey him.” He attested to his promise, but his response sounded almost automatic. 

You scoff. “You’re already disobeying by being with me, alone." He didn’t respond, as it was the harsh truth. Yet, even though it was hypocritical, he stood his ground to the very end. One thing was undeniable: this strong sense of loyalty came from fear. You could imagine running away and thinking it’s a reasonable idea because you’ve never actually been outside. But Toby, who's experienced it, never would want to go out again.

“I-I can’t just up and leave, a—abandoning code.” He declared sternly this time. Both of you had your frustrating reasons. Your father wants to take the one thing that isn’t an agreement away from you. A love that’s familiar and natural. You had a plunging fear that you’d ultimately lose Toby at the hands of your father. Alongside the anxieties you had about the boy you’ve never even met residing in the castle, the next day.

“I-I don’t want to be without you—I-I don’t.” As if the thought were agonizing. He spoke in a smaller voice, but you could sense the quiet storm forming in his chest. The thought of losing everything he was given was scary. A deep breath. "I know," you whispered, “I feel the same.” You finish as you lie on your back, looking at the sky. 

Undoubtedly, both of you were stuck.

Crunch—crunch.

While you mindlessly lay there, his ears perked up. Picking up the sound of boots crumpling leaves. His instinct led him to hoist you off the ground. Just when you were about to speak, he snappily shushed you. He prepared the horse and helped you get on, and you two left as quickly as the wind. Those were the measures they had to take; he’d be in trouble if he were ever seen with the princess, alone, being flirty, so they needed to stay alert.

Jack Nyras and his family approached the kingdom the next evening. They were wealthy; you could tell by their presence and clothes. The way Jack’s father wore his fur robe with pride, the soft dotted material draping his broad shoulders almost like a protective cape, pooling on the marble floor. And alongside him, his wife. Elegantly walking beside him, heels clicking in a rhythmic beat, looking more like an expensive trophy than a woman. 

The Nyras, the newest and most welcomed addition to the kingdom, but of course, one of them was destined to bring along a stir-up of trouble.

Jack.

He was quick to observe, gathering information before he spoke to anyone.

Mostly because he was quite introverted.

The first day he arrived at your kingdom, he noticed how you were with the knight. You certainly weren’t friendly with him. It wasn’t hard to spot the feelings you both had for each other. He just wondered how the knight hasn’t gotten into trouble yet if it’s so obvious. At least it would be intriguing to watch a princess with a knight; he wouldn’t be entirely bored here. He almost wanted to test it—seeing if you’d fall for him instead. It’s a cruel thought, but he wouldn’t act on it much, as he didn’t want to deal with romance anyway. 

He knew that he was to marry you. He didn’t take it personally when he first heard the news, calmly eating dinner at his table as his father delivered the news. He knew that this was just business, even from a young age. He had his fair share of heartbreak. He’d rather not go through it again, especially with some princess he doesn't know. A marriage didn’t have to be made of love; it could just be an agreement.

Though maybe he was still bitter about his own love life.

His father noticed him standing there, watching the two. “Get to know her, son." His father commanded, knocking him out of his trance, lightly pushing the boy towards you. 

He collectedly strolled to you, hands tucked respectfully in pockets. “Your highness.” He greeted, before giving a humble bow. You were easy on the eyes, that was for certain. “Oh! Greetings. You must be… hm! Prince Nyras?” You question, feeling quite uneasy at the way this very… attractive prince is shamelessly checking you out as if you were a steaming piece of meat. “Mhm.” He responded with a polite nod.

“How… put together you look!” You awkwardly exclaim. “I could say the same for you—sorry. Am I making this awkward?” Too much for the first meeting? He wanted to end the conversation right there. This was probably the worst first impression he’s ever had. He could tell he had made you uncomfortable with his immodest staring, even though he didn’t mean it. The boy has a problem with staring before actually speaking. You laughed, “You’re fine. If you couldn’t tell, I’m quite nervous as well.” 

“Well,” fixing himself for a moment, "Your castle is quite fancy.” You cracked a small smile at his observation, taking pride in it. “Oh, you’ll love it here. We have all types of food, music, and horses!”

“All types of food, meaning… all parts?” He questioned that out of everything. You hum, “Well, yes…?" What are you thinking?”

He was about to say something, but shook his head. “Actually, let’s not worry about that. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He recovered by bowing once more, ending the conversation at that. You silently thanked him for how prompt he was. 

Just when you two were about to go your separate ways, Jack’s father came in, all boisterous. Saving the awkward silence between the pair. “You two need to get used to each other! You’ll be kissing soon.” A loud sigh emerged from Jack, embarrassed by his father. Who just… says that? 

You couldn’t hide the look of disgust that twisted into your features. You haven’t kissed anyone before, at least not on the lips. And if you were going to properly kiss someone, it surely wouldn't be Jack Nyras.

As Jack’s father continued talking your ear off, you reflected on how that conversation went. Jack was completely different than how you thought he’d be. He tried to be serious, but it came out really awkward, yet you learned something about him at least. It sounded like he had an odd niche in different varieties of food. It was endearing in a way. You couldn’t help but wonder what else you two have in common. 

On the other hand, Toby, who was leaning against the cold brick wall, had the displeasure of hearing those words. He couldn’t control how his jaw clenched, and his posture stiffened in envy. The affirmation that you two would have to kiss made him feel worthless. 

It didn't matter how childish it looked; he felt firmly about it. Disguising his envious spite about Jack coming here was tiring. Now that the boy is finally here, he feels the crumbly, cheap mask slipping. Out of annoyance, he stomped out of the room. Going off to patrol somewhere else. Jack saw, and as his father continued talking the princess’s ear off, he took this as an opportunity to sneak out.

Meticulous steps before announcing himself. “You like her? But you know you can’t have her, right? Knight.” Jack smirked, leaning against the stone wall. It was calculated. He wanted to see just how desperate the knight was for the princess. 

“Ex—Excuse me?” He turned around to face him, getting a better look at him. He looked put together, as expected for a prince. Toasty brown, curly hair cascaded down his neck like a waterfall. Deep, brown skin and much taller than he is. No doubt he could easily wow the princess—or anyone, for that matter. Though no time to ogle, Toby spat rudely, “It’s n-none of your business.” 

“You shouldn’t speak to a prince like that. Know your place. I’m helping you.” Jack warned with a flick of his tongue. Toby didn’t think about what he was saying; instead, he just let his mouth run. “I don’t c-care about who you are. You’re not the person I serve.” Toby couldn’t help but be defensive towards him. But he knew that defiance wouldn’t change anything. Jack Nyras was right. You two were still going to be engaged and married, while he watched from the sidelines.

“Nuisance.” Jack muttered under his breath, “I’ll remember this. Be grateful that I won’t tell your master about this blunder.” He wiped the invisible dust off his suit and walked away. Like a gesture to mock where Toby stood in the hierarchy. Below him. The dust that Jack walked on top of.

Toby narrowed his eyes. “W-wh-who are you calling a nuisance? You’re not m-much older than me!” He questioned, but only to himself, as Jack had already exited. He followed after, coming back into the room where you were. 

You were sitting down in a chair, already drained from Mr. Nyra’s lectures. Toby came over, next to you, placing a quick hand on your shoulder. You sigh, “Jack’s father sure is a talker…” 

“D-Doesn’t know how to shut up, just like his son.” He muttered bitterly under his breath, hoping you didn’t hear. But you did in fact hear. You tilted your head, narrowing your brows. “Oh? Where did this come from?”

It’s like even thinking about the conversation frustrated Toby more. “You know what t-t-th-that prick did? He came outside and tried to provoke me.” 

That immediately got you up from the chair, almost comedically. “He did what?” Scanning the room, trying to find Jack. “I’ll talk to him.” He shook his head. “Don’t.” He commanded.

You didn’t understand, “But he’s being an—"

“Don’t.” He repeated. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, Toby. You'd better handle it then.” He nodded at that, keeping silent and frowning. You didn’t like seeing him upset, but you knew exactly what to do. “You know what? Come to my chambers tonight, and I bet I could make you smile again.”

“G-gonna try making me happy with your card games?” He asked.

You giggled. “Well, of course. Father did buy me a new deck.”

“Spoiled.” He teased— “Hey!” You yelled.

Night fell, and throughout the castle, it was quiet, as expected, since everyone should be asleep. The only thing one could hear was the cautious pitter-patter steps to your room caused by Toby, not wanting to wake anyone with the sound of his clunky armor. He’s done this many times, like a routine. Once you heard the faint knocks, you hurried him in, shutting the door.

“Toby…” you softly cooed. Taking off his helmet for him, he leaned into your touch like a gentle puppy before you had broken away to grab the cards from your dresser, ready to showcase your skills in dealing cards.

But the pathetic— sad look Toby sported stopped you. One full of solemnity. You weren’t stupid. You knew the thing bothering him was Jack, and quite frankly, you felt the same. You stopped dealing the cards for a moment to speak.

“I’m… still thinking about leaving with you. You know? Or… standing up to my father.” You paused for a second, examining his expression towards your words. He took in a breath. He knew he couldn’t stop you if you really did want to leave. But he didn’t want you to abandon your privileged life for him. 

“I know it’s not well thought out. Maybe even… impulsive.” You weren’t really sure the more you spoke. You had everything, things commoners could only dream of. You have a great father, you lead a life of luxury, and above all, you wouldn’t know how to survive on the outside. You never had to.

“I only want to do this for us.” You naively expressed, but he shook his head in disapproval. This whole day and yesterday, Toby has just been spoon-fed with the fact that he could never have you how he truly wanted you. It’s not worth losing your security for him. 

“I-It’s not worth it.” 

He stood up straight. “Y-you have a good family and a g-good life… You shouldn’t have to throw away everything for me. You know it’s inevitable.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, sorrowfully. Eyes widened like whatever he was going to answer with would crush you. 

“I-I mean… your assigned marriage to Jack. I-It’s okay.”

He paused before continuing. It hurt him to say this. “Safety is more important… you shouldn’t feel like you need to run, and—I… I’d rather not go out there. I-I know it’s cc—co-cowardly of me to say, but it’d be better for both of us if we just accepted—“

“I won’t accept that, Toby. No matter what anyone says.” The words she promised, light and breathy, as sweet as honey, he was sure that those words would forever remain stuck with him. “And you're not a coward.”

“P-princess—“ Before he could finish, a blistering knock against the wooden door caught their attention. “Your highness, open the door.” The guard demanded in a monotone voice.

You were dumbfounded at first. What did they need? If they were coming in, you had to hide Toby. 

Wasting no time, you shoved Toby into your closet, making him hide in the labyrinth of your puffy dresses and petticoats before coming back to the man behind the door. “Pardon me?” You question. 

“Open the door.” They commanded again; they wouldn't take no for an answer. “I’m changing—“ They immediately interrupted. “We know he’s in there. Tobias Erin Rogers.” How did they know that Toby was in here? Was he not careful enough? 

“Come on out before you both get into trouble.” You still refused. You went over to the closet door, whispering to Toby. “Go through the window…” He refused. “T-They already know.” He walked out of the closet. “I don’t wan-want to get you in trouble as well.” Continuing his path to the door, he opened it.

They took him by the arm roughly. “Good choice. You’re in trouble, Tobias.” The old man lectured.

And that was the last you saw him.

yes were spreading indigenous eyeless jack agenda. more to come! thank you for reading til the end!

[kittentoby]

When Nolan allows Mark to go to college, he gets accepted into a fraternity. Life is all well— he’s balancing hero life and college life— and he meets you! Until he gets into a bit of trouble! Rumors spread fast when you’re popular. How can he ever make it up to you!? headcanons format / smut warning

Frat boy Mark Grayson!

He is one of the finest men in the frat. At the parties, it was like he was another person. In classes, though, he was more focused—I mean, he tried his best, but he was very dedicated to getting his education. This was, in fact, his only chance; his dad begrudgingly let him attend, just as long as he was able to balance that life with his hero's life. And so, he did. 

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

He made friends due to his charms. This also got him lucky enough to get pushed into joining a fraternity by the start of the semester. There were, of course, some fuck-ups. Sometimes he was late, and he couldn't keep his face from being mangled.

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

What really sealed the deal was how fun he was. He didn’t attend the parties a lot, due to fighting villains or staying in his room with the door locked to heal, but when he came, he partied hard and never got tired. Combined with his good looks and how he partied, of course, people looking for romance flocked to him, and so… he went on dates. Maybe a lot of dates.

  Frat boy Mark Grayson! 

who had trouble turning down people's feelings, so he went on those dates. But unfortunately, his carefree attitude went out the window when it was just one-on-one with him. He was awkward. 

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

who you meet in class. You guys have done a couple of group projects together; sweet as could be and handsome too. Sometimes he gets behind on assignments, and you sit next to him, so he asks you for help.

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

Who became friends with you, and you guys were innocently hanging out in your dorm to study and help each other out with projects? He was starting to crush on you. 

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

And when you finally begin to have a crush on him… His name began to be thrown around the campus for the wrong reasons. Even your friend told you to stay away from Mark Grayson, and you didn’t believe it at all. I mean… that nerdy guy?

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

Who learned from William, it’s known that ‘Mark Grayson likes to go on many dates with different girls,' a rumor that he’s a player even though it was completely false. Awkward… shy Mark Grayson, who can’t hold a conversation with a person he finds mildly attractive, is a player? 

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

He goes to you quickly, telling you that it’s all a lie. He’d be damned if some rumor ruins his love life. Trust and believe he had his Japanese cheesecake on standby to sweeten the confession.

  “Please! Everything they said about me is a lie!” Mark pleaded with you before he continued. 

  “I-I want to go out with you; I want to be with you. I want to treat you well… if you’d let me.”

Frat boy Mark Grayson!

You guys have recently gotten into a relationship now, and he’s the sweetest… he just disappears a lot. You know he has gatherings for his club to go to and probably something else you weren’t aware of. 

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

Maybe you got a little angry at him, and then it turned into him pulling down your panties and riding his face into the mattress…

  "I'm sorry… s-so sorry.” He breathlessly stuttered out under your sopping cunt, the pink muscle swiping away. Mark was doing everything in his power to give you pleasure after making you upset with his absence. Drowning in the hot juices of your hole, while trying not to completely hurt you with his enhanced strength. 

  He traced his free hand up your body, playing with your pebbled nipples, emerging ragged breathing from you; he found it so hot. "P-please forgive me, angel.” Every time he talked, his voice sent euphoric vibrations throughout your body. God it was otherworldly. You needed this reliever.

  “Y-You can’t just expect me to forgive you easily, M-Mark Grayson,” betraying your own words as you were fucking yourself roughly on his mouth. He came in his pants at the sight. You barely needed to do anything.

  “Don’t you l-love me?” He asked, pleading for an answer even though he was nestled underneath your thighs, his face shiny red and puffy with a filthy mixture of your slick and his own spit.

  "Mark," you scold, gaining a small whimper out of him.

  He kissed your slit delicately, before finally latched onto your pearl, giving it full attention and sucking it like he was hungry. As if your pussy was a spile leaking out sweet nectar, and he was a thirsty man wanting that thick syrup. “Cum in my mouth, please.” Trying to send commands to your clit as if it were a voice-controlled robot.

This was going to be a long night.

Frat boy Mark Grayson!

Who got so pussy-whipped that he begs to eat it anywhere. Shit, even at the frat house he had half a mind just to eat it on the kitchen counter. Fuck it, even on the floor. Maybe he secretly loved the praise and the way you’d moan loudly—like a scream—when he learned how to use his tongue and fingers. 

  Sometimes even when his nose is broken, he wants you to still sit on it.

  “Sit on my nose; it won’t hurt.” He muttered to you, his face half beaten from God knows what. And the only thing he’s concerned about is giving you pleasure for being late today.

  Frat boy Mark Grayson!

Who worships the ground you walk on and loves you? He feels safe with you, and nobody else could grant him such happiness.

[kittentoby]

Toby’s still a proxy, but has a secret relationship with you. You distract his every thought. Not to mention— He’s touch - starved and wants to see you badly. 2k words , off written smut warning.

Fallen branches sank into the tall grass, breaking underneath the weight of the men. The harsh wind was yawning as a contrast to the hushed urgency with which they were proceeding. Brian is at the front, Tim is at his hip, effortlessly creating the steady pitter-patter harmony with the dirt and booted feet.

As a contradiction to the tune, the two men themselves were tight-lipped. Mute. Leather-gloved hands belted tightly around their weapons evoking a slight squeak. Things were going smoothly for them, except for Toby who was behind and unfocused. Thinking about trivial matters like what his partner is doing currently. It was unhealthy to be fully engulfed in what you were up to. But, he was completely in awe of you. When he first laid eyes on you, he knew you were “the one.” or something along those lines, damned if he knew. Maybe it was the way your face glowed perfectly in the window behind you as you stood still, next to your former work partner who was Toby’s target at the time.

He truly believed an angel sang when you spoke out at every meeting, blessing his ears. When you touched him, he wanted to maybe just cut out that piece of his arm, and store the flesh somewhere untouched. It wouldn’t hurt.

But back to the main topic …

Through the windows of the cabin. Like a heaping pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, there lay a brown-haired adult male by himself. Given that he’s slumped on the worn-out couch making himself an easy kill, Toby should be thrilled to wield his trusty chipped axe, rusted with hardened blood of past victims he’d mercilessly chop into pieces. To savagely slash through blubbery layers of flesh and tissue like a ravenous wolf, to watch viscous red ropes of dark blood splatter, decorating his mask and body like a second layer of skin.

He should be excited, right? But, he felt no such way recently. The passion for murdering died out. The thing that made him euphoric became dull like a blade lost of its sharpness.

Every squelch, and stab became stale, as if it were an overplayed song. It wasn’t even his favorite part of the hunt anymore, even though being the brutalist was the role he played in missions. Is it odd right? But things have changed since you came into his life. It felt like he found a new purpose, which, in turn, distracted him. He was so head over heels for you that his once-hobby felt like a responsibility now.

He even found himself taking an interest in the mundane routines of his victims, something that he usually wouldn’t think twice about.

For instance, the target had a great family life. A good relationship with his kids and partner. It made him think of you. The one thing with color to his fading grey world. He wondered what would having a family with you feel like. The thought of an untroubled, comfortable domestic life with you was tantalizing.

Why was a cruel axe murderer dwelling on this? Knowing his line of work, and the lies made it hard to think of a healthy relationship in the future between you two. You believe you know your boyfriend, but frankly, you don't, except for fabrications about his life. Everything he spews out of his cut-up mouth is a desultory lie. Who would want to start a family with a liar and a murderer?

Toby tip-toed away from the cabin. To sit under a tree. He was holding out for the majority of the week— but now he can’t focus. Various things plagued his mind and had already matured in size. Those thoughts consisted of wanting to see your face, to touch you, to get out of this rut of guilt.

To no surprise, his disappearance didn't go unnoticed; The mere displacement of Toby taking a seat knocked Tim out of his focus. “Kid. What’re you doing? Get up.” The man demanded, in a gruff but quiet voice. Toby didn’t move, “Why? It's gonna be the same outcome as every mission.” Toby rebutted, but kept his voice down out of respect for the operation. Maybe it was bratty to point out, but he didn’t care. Toby was aware that he was stubborn, and the two would be lying to themselves if they disagreed with how tedious killing and stalking got.

“It's always boring, but it’s a job we were asked to do so we complete it and go home,” Brian replied, sympathetically, but strictly. Toby understood that it was a job, but couldn't help but think of how much time was wasted. It wasn't a problem until he got into a relationship. Tapping his boot against the ground impatiently, he complained, “We’ve stalked this man for a week and barely got anywhere. It wouldn't be hard to k…kill him already.”

In a curt tone, Tim replied as he took off his mask. “You’re right. It’s not hard. Though, we were ordered to stalk him for a week, smart guy. Do you think we’d half-ass something like this? Maybe YOU would, but that’s why you’re tagging along with us, to learn how to do the job right the first time.”

“I know how to do the job. We-we all do, it's always the same, I never wanted to tag along with you two fuckers.” Toby looked at the other man with cold eyes and stood up. Feet planted into the ground. Tim contorted his expression into one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. “You selfish—“

“You TWO!” Brian shouted. Not even letting Tim finish the rest of his insult. Thank god the target who resided in the cabin was still asleep even after the noisy bickering. “Listen, we can argue about it when we get back. We need to focus on the target.”

“I’ll go.” Toby abruptly got up, before Brian stopped him with his question; “Why are you so eager to leave? What’s at the mansion?”

“I-It’s not what’s at the mansion,” Toby cryptically mumbled, his head hung low, not daring to expand on it. Tim rolled his eyes at the lackluster answer. “You know what? Let him leave. He’ll learn.” Tim remarked, putting back on his mask.

The keys sing a jingle as you fumble them out of your pocket and hurriedly unlock the door to the dim apartment. You kicked off your shoes sloppily, body overworked and slowed from the lengthy hours of work. The boss was so needy today, oh, you were running back and forth. Numerous refills of two sugars, dark coffee, stacks and stacks of paperwork, paperwork, MORE paperwork. The white 12-point Times New Roman lettered pages are driving you up the wall. Not to mention, the snail's pace of the paper printing. You blamed the piping hot steam from the coffee that you were holding for melting your last two remaining brain cells.

Maybe a bit of an exaggeration. But shit, you were frustrated by your boss. He only called on YOU. Compensation for working like a dog? out of the question. Frustrated isn’t the word. Hatred is what you’d use towards that man and his corporation. The aching in your legs and your shirt soiled with sticky sweat spoke in defense for you just in case you wanted to strangle that man. He had you running lap after lap as if it were a marathon due to his important meeting.

Despite all your rage, you were also hoping to see your boyfriend this weekend. Just for something good for once in this hell of a week. You missed him, but you knew that his job didn't have great service, and he prefers not to be on his phone during work.

You tried not to dwell on it, as for now, you had bigger things to deal with— like a shower. You trusted that your boyfriend would come back.

Upon gathering soap, and your freshly washed clothes that sat patiently in your dryer, you were readying up for a relaxing time in the shower. Until, of course, something always interrupts you when you want alone time. That's a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Twisting the knob to the tall white door hesitantly, opening it. Speak of the devil.

“Toby— hey!?” You kicked your shoes to the side nervously. “I didn’t expect you at all, I’m just a little shocked! It’s a mess in here..” Darting your eyes from the mess that resided in your apartment, to him.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while?” you questioned. You opened the door wider, reluctantly letting him into the junkyard that was your apartment.

His head hung low like a guilty dog. “I-I needed to see you.” He said softly, with shaky breath. You hug him in response.

“I really wish I had cleaned before this— it’s been a rough week for work, I haven't had time.”

“I’ve seen worse… Do you need help?” Toby wasn’t the biggest fan of cleaning. Doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t clean at all like Jeff. But with you, he’ll help you out with even the simplest tasks.

“No Toby, this is my mess.” You stubbornly stated. Honestly, help would be nice, god knows how tired you are. The only productive thing you can muster is vacuum cleaning since it was easy, you’d feel guilty if he had to clean up for you.

“Don’t be like that. I-I wanna help.”

“Think you could do the dishes for me while I pick up and vacuum?” You sighed.

He nodded. You clicked on the vacuum and Toby started on the dishes and the two of you began cleaning.

Maybe it's the roar of the vacuum coming to life, filling the atmosphere with its loud vroom. Or the sound of the rag slapping against the glass plate, making a rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack sound every time he cleans another one— But Toby felt… normal. For maybe the first time in a long time.

Though, the grin he unconsciously had plastered on his face, warped into a solemn expression. He had to be realistic, no matter how much he wanted this, no matter how much he wanted to give you the life you deserve. He’s a proxy and he has to lie about it. Brainwashed to serve and serve only. Being an individual? Out of the question.

He must not have noticed how his hand had already shut off the water faucet. Because you looked up from what you were doing, studying his expression.

“Toby? Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay— okay.”

Looking beyond his words, and judging by the expression on his face, he obviously wasn’t. To try to calm your partner down, you told him, “Let’s go to my room.”

You walked into your bedroom, and he followed after slowly. Taking a seat on your bed, making himself as small as possible. He followed your movements with guilty eyes as you turned on the TV.

“I can tell something happened… It's in your face.” In this moment, he wished his face wasn't expressive so that he could continue to hide the sadness he felt that pierced through his heart. You put your hand in his hand, knitting your fingers together, reassuring him with “You can tell me anything.”

He stiffened, eyes downcast. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just wanna know what’s up with you.” You reassured him.

“There are things I can’t tell you. Some things you might h-hate me for.”

“Toby, I could never hate you, just tell me when you're ready. You mean so much to me.” He didn’t believe that. He doubted that you would want anything to do with him after you found out about him. It was better to lie to you, even though it was wrong, to protect you. The consequences of discovering he's a proxy will drag you into serious situations.

In a small voice, Toby asked: "Did you ever want a fah– family?”

“Maybe, I would love to move in somewhere with you.”

“What if I wasn't able to give you everything you wanted?”

“Right now, this is enough. We can dwell on the future later, together.” Just some extra reassurance that everything's okay at this very moment is enough for Toby. You really were his angel. Then as if you couldn't bless him more, you kissed him, to seal in your words, like a promise. The kiss completely rewired his brain, just the feel of your supple lips blessing his cracked ones. He let out a little whine when you pulled back. No. Why couldn't you hold out a little longer?

“I love you.” He said surely. And you replied right back, with the same three words. He wanted to be close to you again. Usually, he wouldn’t want to cuddle, but he needed it. Toby cuddles up to your chest, inhaling your scent. Tangling himself between your limbs. It warmed your heart when he did that.

“You smell really good.” That confused you a little. You haven’t even showered yet, and you were sweating bullets today. Poor Toby was lost in the salty smell of your sweat. Completely making the once, heart-to-heart conversation to one where he's completely distracted and absorbed by your smell.

“I haven't showered yet, Toby–” He interrupted, “I-I know.” You knew your boyfriend was weird, but that sealed it.

“Can we kiss again… p-please?” The brown-haired boy pleaded, as if it were his final meal. You obliged, leaning in silently. His hungry lips meet yours again for minutes. Toby climbs on your lap oh so submissively, a knee strategically placed in between your inner thighs to make you go crazy.

Finally when you two break— a needy moan emerges from him. Maybe being a week away from you, not touching or talking to you, combined with the conversation ending with “I love you” made him desperate. He was in your lap, studying you in the new position he was in. “Y-you make me… feel… things.”

“L-like. I don’t h-hate myself when I'm with you.” He stated that the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. “Like an… escape?” You softly questioned.

“Mhm.” Holding you tighter, as if you’ll disappear at this very moment. “I just w-wanna touch you.”

“You can.” With consent, he immediately started sliding his hands underneath your shirt to your stomach. looking up at you with his wide puppy eyes before he teasingly placed a kiss on your stomach. Before peppering kisses all across your body.

Then, a piercing ring cut through the tense room. It was his cell phone, residing in his back pocket. He already knew that it was Brian and Tim. Even though the two men let him walk away from the mission, they still wanted to check up on him. He should've known they’d call. He wanted to deal with them later. Even though it was childish, Toby selfishly wanted his proxy life forgotten for just the night.

“I-I don’t wanna go.” He paused. “I wanna stay the night— I wanna be… f-full of you.” Ragged and uneven, his words weren't even making sense. You marveled at the disheveled sight of him, but still greedy enough to kiss your throat, but the collar of your shirt got in the way.

“Can I take it off?”

You wordlessly nodded yes.

He fumbled a little, taking it off of you, and went back peppering kisses down your body, but he was getting more frustrated down there. Erratically grinding himself against your thigh in a shaky motion. He looked up at you with round, pleading eyes. Going under the hood of your neck. The smell of your sweat was so intoxicating.

“Toby…”

“L-Let me taste more.” He roughly pulled down your shorts, spreading your legs.

[kittentoby]

Before Camp! Scott Barringer gets into a fight on your behalf—you deal with the aftermath of his bloody nose. 600+ words

The sight of him almost made you sob.

His steps on the hardwood floor of your family’s house were sluggish, and the once silent room was filled with his panting. He didn’t meet your glistening, doleful eyes as he made a beeline to your bathroom.

It crushed you to look at him in this state. All bloodied and beaten. It was hard to fight back all those burning tears that threatened to fall.

The swollen bruises on his face were a disgusting blend of pink and red, dry blood pooled in the stinging deep cut of his lips, and his nose was gushing a thick bloody river down his chin that he tried so hard to catch with his palms.

He had gotten into a fight about you. Being stupid and high. He’d throw a punch so fast if anyone fixed their lips to insult you. It worried you.

“Now what if the fight went south? What if they pulled out a knife—”

His expression hardened at your questioning. “It’s already over,” he slurred his words as he rudely interrupted. Dark blood stretched across the off-white marble sink; it looked like a horror scene. He reached for the roll of tissue paper, plugging a wad of it into his nostrils.

“Still,” you rebutted. “And you’re not supposed to shove toilet paper up your nose—you blow on it softly.” You handed him another clean tissue paper for his bleeding nose, and he reluctantly blew into it.

“Wait for me in my room; I wanna talk.” You wiped up the remnants of the blood that he had sloppily attempted to clean and rounded up supplies for his injuries before joining him in your room.

You sat next to him on the mattress, it dipping under your weight. You tilted your head down, studying his absent eyes. “Scott…” You didn’t have to say much for him to start talking.

“Some guy said something rude about you when you walked past, and I heard it.” His voice was weak, under his breath. His head hung low.

“That doesn’t mean you punch him… You're injured now,” you continued. “They always talk about me. I ignore it.” It was true. Those in your class would always put you down. They make sly comments when you walk past because they have nothing else to do.

“And that doesn’t mean you should take it. You don’t deserve that,” he muttered that last part.

Your tone was still clear and sure. “You’re right, but it also doesn’t mean you do impulsive stuff and get hurt.”

He rolled his eyes before snapping back. “I don’t want to go back and ’forth about this. Stop being so worried; it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten hurt like this.”

He took away the tissue from his nose trying to prove a point. “See, the blood already stopped.”

He sighed. You always got so worried about him. So worked up—it frustrated him a little. But it showed that you cared. You care about him more than anyone in his life.

And fighting for you was a way he showed he cared for you back. He’d take those bruises. That pain. For you.

You glanced at him before putting a cool compress on his bruised hand. He let out a sharp hiss.

“I don’t mean to be so dramatic—I was worried… and you can’t blame me,” you said, referring to his beaten state, A pause before you continued. “But thank you.” You ran your hand through his bristly blonde hair.

When you touched his hair, he tiredly leaned into it more. “I get why though… I was being impulsive. Didn’t think at all.”

“Yeah…” You scanned his face again. “I’m just glad that it wasn’t worse than bruises,” you added.

“But, I don’t regret it though… Not one bit. He always says something about you, and so does his group. He had it coming.” He gruffly claimed.

That's something you couldn’t disagree on. But goodness. Sometimes you wish this boy would just stop and think.

[kittentoby]

x readers stories ﹕

• ticci toby

It’s been weeks since he seen you, he misses you.

• scott barringer

He gets a bloody nose due to fighting

• mark grayson

what if he got the frat college experience

oc stories ﹕

• i scream for pasta w/ @90smoonstar 𓏲 ๋࣭ 

Scream AU, Stu as Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack as Billy.