Toby Twisted

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets:

Jeff the Killer

Jane the Killer

Nina the Killer

Ticci Toby

Tim Wright/Masky

Brian Thomas/Hoodie

Slenderman

Eyeless Jack

Bloody Painter

Nurse Ann

Jason the Toymaker

Laughing Jack

Red Queen:

Mare Barrow

Diana Farley

Tiberias Calore

Maven Calore

Stardew Valley:

Sebastian

Sam

Penny

Emily

Dragon Quest XI:

Hero/Luminary

Erik

Veronica

Serena

Sylvando

Jade

Rab

Hendrik

Jasper

Lord of the Rings

Frodo

Pippin

Legolas

Aragorn

Twilight

Bella Swan

Charlie Swan

Edward Cullen

Alice Cullen

Rosalie Hale

^if following the books, I will write up until Breaking Dawn. I will never include anything of that book in my writing.

What I'll write for:

Scenarios

Headcanons

X M! Reader (mlm only!)

X Gn! Reader

X F! Reader (wlw only)

X Specific! Reader (ex: chubby, trans, poc, etc.)

Cal X Mare (Red Queen)

Sebastian X Sam (Stardew)

Dean X Castiel (Supernatural)

Luminary X Erik (Dragon Quest XI)

Sylvando X Hendrik (Dragon Quest XI)

Jasper X Hendrik (Dragon Quest XI)

Non-Romance/Platonic Relationships

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Violence/Gore (to the best of my ability)

Smoking (Cigs only)

Religious trauma

AUs

Specific kinks (To an extent; if it's something I don't feel comfortable with writing, I will reply to your ask stating such and add it in the will not write section)

What I will NOT write for:

Non-con

Piss, Scat, Vomit kink

Vore

Religion (in a positive light)

Fetishes

Drugs (for trauma reasons, sorry)

Creepypasta X Creepypasta

Maven X Canon

LOTR Canon X Canon

Polyamory

Yandere

☆ I also will not take requests for full length fanfic books. I come up with the ideas for those myself.

☆ For those wondering about the Creep X Creep stuff, I genuinely don't think any of the creeps would make good couples. Same with LOTR and others, I don't "ship" any of the characters I write for really.

☆ I also don't know enough about how yandere characters work, so until I figure that out I won't write for it. Same with polyam; I myself am not poly and I feel I don't know enough about that to really write for it. Absolutely nothing against poly people of course.

☆ In smut, I will need you to specify pronouns AND sex. If you don't use pronouns but ask for a certain sex, I will use GN pronouns. This is a space for queer people! And if you do not specify the sex but use pronouns, I will use the sex those typically are paired with. I know as a trans guy myself (yes I'm trans) I don't really care about it, in fact I prefer when I read x male readers and they're cisgender, but if you don't that's always cool. But I NEED sex and pronouns specified if you would like specific things!!

☆ I will ONLY write for queer relationships!! If you request a "(Male character) X fem! reader!!" I will not accept it!! I will only write MLM and gender neutral reader X fem characters. If I ever feel comfortable writing from a female perspective, I will, but for now I will not write for female readers. Even then, I likely will never write straight relationships. WLW at most! Feel free to send a request for a female reader if you want them paired with a female character, but be aware I might reject it.

☆ For my list of characters, I will eventually write out my basic HCs for all the ones I write for (basic as in age, name, height, likes, dislikes, etc.).

☆ The list is a little small for each fandom, not necessarily because I will never write for other characters, but while I don't write often enough, I feel a little less comfortable in my writing and I HATE mischaracterizing characters! Once I feel comfortable in my writing, the list will grow!

He felt the shift a week ago when Nurse Ann, who practically begged him to take up her therapy program, asked him what led to him murdering people. His original response was "Because there were so many assholes in my life that I didn't think deserved to be there." Now, Ann didn't fully believe that's what he thought. Partially, maybe, but not entirely. But that response led to her next question; the one that made Jeff lose his mind all over again. "Do you think there were any people you killed that did deserve to live?" She had asked and he was stuck then and there. Somehow that changed up his whole attitude, because it made him start to really think about the things he did. He started to feel almost *remorseful* for the things he did, and it was starting to really get to him now.

The nightmares that plagued his sleep as a teenager stopped after a few years, when he was about 17. But now, they've come back and the difference is that they aren't centered around what others have done to him, but rather what he continues to do to other people. He wakes up in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming. He had to personally ask Slender if he could do anything to just "make it fucking stop" and he told him there wasn't much he could do. Slender only cast magic on his door so he wouldn't wake the entire Manor with his screaming.

He sits in his run down car, staring blankly out the front window. He originally said he wanted to stay inside until the rain let up a bit, but it was a poor excuse. Not a real reason. The cemetery- this cemetery- held such awful memories; memories where Jeff felt his most vulnerable. He hasn't been here since they were buried, and he never planned on going back. It was a long drive home, but he didn't stop to see the old house. He already felt terrible for letting himself feel so miserable; miserable enough to come here. Yet again, he found himself wishing there was a way to get rid of feeling at all. Before he could argue with himself again and, maybe, finally let himself leave, he opened the car door and stepped out. The rain persisted, immediately soaking him. He couldn't find it in him to care; in fact he welcomed the rain- let it wash away his worries, and yet they still lingered in his mind. He figured he could never truly be rid of the horrid thoughts that plagued him.

He was silent as he shut the car door and entered through the cemetery gates. It was easy enough to find the grave he was looking for. They were all buried near each other, the closest his family had ever stayed. He let his gaze linger over hers and his for only a second; they weren’t the reason why he was here. He sat down at the plain, dark gray headstone. There were no flowers here, but the small bottle still stayed partially shoved into the dirt, covered in it from many years passing. It was filled with the boy’s favorite things; now decayed leaves from one of his plants, a scrap from his sketchbook, and one of the animal bones he collected from escaping to the woods.

Jeff’s bony fingers curled around it, pulling it out from the ground in such a gentle way no one would expect from him, not even the boy buried here. He carefully expected it, all those memories from before flooding his mind. For once, he let it happen. A blur of green and brown and all the clothes he found ugly before. The posters that littered the walls to hide all the holes left from angry fists. The space underneath his bed he knew his younger brother used to hide. The tears came fast and ugly, washed away from the cold rain pouring down on him. Do you think there were any people that deserved to live? The question rang through his head tauntingly, but not unwelcome.

Yes. He answered. “Yes,” His voice came out hoarse, forced and full of all the emotion he held deep inside. The hand on that bottle clenched tighter as he brought the other up to place on the name engraved into the stone. Liu Woods. “You didn’t…You didn’t deserve it,” He spoke through sobs he could barely control. “I’m,” He started, though hesitating to continue. All those memories, all those moments. Fighting, arguing, pushing him away. Killing him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

~

The drive home was a blur, one Jeff pretended he was there for. His clothes were still wet, his hair barely dry. His face was blank, devoid of the emotion he released in that graveyard. As if none of it happened. The door shut quietly behind him, unlike the way he slammed doors carelessly. “How was the drive, loser?” Ben’s voice barely registered in Jeff’s mind. He was still occupied with the thought of green eyes and caring words.

“Shut up."

Background: His father was mostly absent. He never knew when he'd show up,which was the main cause of his anxiety. Always listening for the familiar sounds of his busted truck pulling into the driveway. When his father was there, he was always drunk. Beating him, his mom, and his brother were things he always did when he was around. His mother was abusive in her own way. He always felt as if she despised him because he looked the msot like his father.

Liu resembled his mother more, but that didn't stop her from disliking him as well. She barely paid any attention to her children, so naturally you would assume Jeff and Liu were close because of it. But unfortunately, as much as Liu tried, Jeffrey pulled away from everyone. When he was younger, he was curious about everything, always watching and always listening to everything that happened around him.

He was more extroverted then, but as time went on he slowly crawled into himself, not trusting anyone in fear of them hurting him like everyone else did. Liu tried his best to pull Jeff away from himself, tried to help him in any way he could. But that only made him resentful. Couldn't he see this was what he wanted? How could Liu force him into something he didn't want?

When he started middle school is when the bullying really picked up. He was always picked on, but nothing like this. It was more than just name calling and shoving him around; it slowly got more and more physical, starting off slow, as if to see just how much Jeffrey would let happen, with punches and kicks that would soon turn into ruthless beatings that left him bruised and bloodied. For a while, he let it happen, a part of him thinking he deserved it. How couldn't he?

The only person that cared about him was his brother, at least in his eyes. When he was 13, he had finally grown tired of everything. Of the abuse at home and at school. A quiet girl in his class named Jane always did try to be his friend. Maybe he would have allowed her if things were different. Maybe he would have wanted to be her friend if he thought he was worthy of one.

Liu was a sophomore in highschool at the time, and Jeff finally allowed him to drag him to a party for one of his friends. It ended up being the night he lost himself completely. Of course Liu's friend was the older brother of his main bully. He woke up in the hospital, bandages covering every inch of his body. He was sore. So sore. His skin burned and itched but he couldn't move. What had happened?

His mother sat in the chair facing his bed, reading a magazine. "Finally, you're awake. I knew I shouldn't have let you boys go out. You always get yourselves into trouble." He blinked at her, his pale blue eyes searching her blank face for any hint of what happened. And then it hit him. A rush of gasoline and bleach and screaming came back to him all too suddenly. He remembered the fire. The burning fire that seemed to eat him alive. And how Liu beat those guys off of him, and telling him everything would be alright. What a fucking liar he is.

When he was finally released from the hospital, everything was quiet in the house. Way too quiet. He stared in the bathroom mirror, his pale skin now so patchy and slightly pink in some areas, and his hair all rough and dry. He was a new person already. He stared into the mirror, studying the new boy he was, until he couldn't stand it anymore.

He took a knife from the kitchen and cut deep into his skin. It was so easy, the skin of his cheeks sighing as it tore open, beautiful scarlet blood pooling out of the cuts. It wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough. He made more and more cuts into his skin. Into his arms, his chest, his thighs. His breathing grew harsher and more ragged as he went, but he wasn't here, not really. The burning sting of the brand new maroon lines littering his flesh was all he was focused on. All he wanted. And he always made sure he got what he wanted. The blood was now a big puddle on the tile floor.

August 27. 5:31pm.

     “What are you doing, Y/N? I was calling you,” My heart sinks in my chest at the sound of his grating voice. Really? He had to do this now? Gage turns back and walks up, then pushes past me to face John. I let it happen, and just stared off into the sky. I feel myself grow numb. Why did Gage do all this? I turn to look at them, and I feel the distance between me and him grow, ever so slightly.

     “Hi, I’m Gage.” He offers a hand out to him. Such a gentleman for someone so fucking disgusting. John eyes him, looking him up and down before taking his hand. He hasn’t washed his own in over a year. “Y/N’s dad. Who is this? You never mentioned a new friend, Y/N.” He looks over at me and I feel so small again. Just like I did the first few years after he started his torturous abuse. “Sorry, it just slipped my mind, I guess.” A lie. I did end up telling him about Gage, but just as I thought, he forgot all about him 10 minutes later. John glares at me, and I know that if he even remembers this when we go inside, he’ll scream at me. 

     Gage glares at me too, and I feel myself shrink even more. “Well, do you wanna come inside?” As soon as John finishes asking, I feel myself jump slightly. “No, that’s not a great ide-” “Sure. I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t,” Gage totally disregards what I was beginning to say. He doesn’t spare me another glance before he lets John lead him inside.

     I feel that weird choking feeling that happens before you cry, so I walk a distance behind them. Hopefully they won’t feel the need to talk to me. I feel suddenly so self conscious of the condition the house is in. It’s not entirely my fault, but I feel guilty nonetheless. I pay close attention to Gage as his eyes fall over every piece of trash or broken, unclean furniture, and the permanently stained walls from the cigarettes John smokes. I have to look at my shoes, which are not much better looking than the house. “Oh,” I hear him whisper, and I feel the tears pricking at my eyes. I blink them away before they can fall down my cheeks. “Ah, sorry about this. Y/N doesn’t like to clean, even though I try my hardest to get him to!” He laughs, and I bite down on my lip as hard as I can. He always makes it seem as if I’m at fault for everything. 

     I can feel Gage’s stare, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I don’t want to see the disgust in his jade eyes, then feel worse than I already do. “It’s fine. Can I see your room, Y/N?” I look up, finally meeting his eyes. I gulp, hoping not to sound as if I’m about to break down. “Yeah, I guess.” I don’t wait for him, walking down the hallway at my own pace. Luckily, I can only hear one pair of footsteps. I guess John will leave me with Gage, which I might not have minded if he came here when I wanted him to; but I can feel my stomach flip and turn all kinds of ways. It reminds me of the feeling you get when you’re climbing up and up on a rollercoaster, about to drop. I feel as if I could drop any second, too.

     I open the door to reveal my room, not nearly as messy as the rest of the house, but still dirty enough for me to add that to the list of things to feel insecure about. I let out a shaky sigh, and hope Gage doesn’t catch onto how I’m feeling. I wonder if he’d even care. I hear the door shut, and then lock. God, why is he locking it? 

     I sat down on the bed, my eyes focused on the multicolored blanket I got from the thrift store. If it were someone else, someone more like me- poor, I can admit that- maybe I’d feel comfortable with another person in my room, but Gage is rich, he doesn’t know anything about what I have to live like. He sits down in front of me, so I’m forced to look up at him. Instead of scrutiny in his stare, I only find those kind eyes of his. And yet, I can’t seem to trust them the same way I would have before. 

     “I didn’t know you..” He huffs and presses his lips together, as if he were trying to figure out the right words to say. “Were poor? Yeah, well I’m glad it wasn’t obvious,” I snapped. I couldn’t help but feel so upset with him. He’s pushed so many of my boundaries in this past hour, and it’s difficult for me to just let that go. His expression changes, twisting into one of pity. At least, I think that’s what it is. Either way, I don’t like it. “Don’t look at me like that, Gage. Seriously, what the hell did you think it’d be like? Did you think I was doing something to my dad?” I roll my eyes, exasperated.

     Gage frowns. “I don’t know, Y/N. I just thought it was weird. I mean, you wouldn’t let me come inside, and you told me that you ignore all of your dad’s messages and calls. What else was I supposed to think?” I grit my teeth. “Nothing! You were supposed to think nothing of it, Gage! Why else would I ignore my dad, huh? Do you think I hate him without a reason to? God, do you really think that little of me?” I stand up and start pacing around the room. I need to calm down. I hear the sound of the springs in the bed sigh as he gets up and walks over to me. I turn away from him, but he wraps his hand around my wrist. I glare at him. “Y/N, no. Look, I don’t know what I thought, okay?” His voice takes on a pleading tone, and his expression is one I can’t read. I pull my arm away, holding eye contact with him.

     There’s a knock on the door, and it makes me suddenly conscious of how loud I was. “Y/N? Is there someone in there with you?” I feel the heat rise in my face. Oh no, no no. “Is it Xander? I didn’t know you were having a sleepover. You didn’t tell me anything about that.” I don’t glance at Gage; I don’t want to see his expression. See how much he doesn’t like this, because I’m sure he doesn’t. God, why did Gage have to come inside?

     The only person who knows about John’s dementia besides me is Xander, because he’s been my friend long enough to watch his memory deteriorate alongside me. I don’t tell people about it, because they don’t need to know. I don’t want people to fucking know. And now, Gage is going to have to know because he’s going to ask questions, whether he knows the answer to them already or not.

     “No, Gage is here.” I try to sound firm, but my voice wavers, making me sound dejected. I’m not sad that he doesn’t remember anymore, I’m just miserable because I have to deal with it. I can feel Gage stare, but I don’t look back at him. There’s a few seconds of silence behind the door, before John’s voice picks up again. “Who’s Gage?” I glance at him as soon as those words leave John’s mouth. He’s covering his mouth the way he usually does when I make him flustered, and I can read his feelings easily with the way his eyes water. I look at him, confused. Why would he cry? He’s not the one who has to deal with John. “Friend I made from school.” 

     A few seconds later, he responds with “Oh, okay then.” His footsteps trail away from the door until I can’t hear them. There’s a deafening silence in the room, but we keep looking at each other expectantly. I sigh, then let my gaze drop to the ground. “I’m sorry for yelling at you..” I whisper. I let the tears slip down my face, because there’s no point in stopping it at this point. Gage’s arms are around me in a second, and I’m stiff at first. I never let myself break down in front of people, because I do just fine by myself- if just fine means sobbing until my face goes numb and resorting to unhealthy coping mechanisms.

     “No, no. It’s okay, it’s okay.” He mutters into my hair, and I rest my head on his. His hands move up and down my back, as a means to comfort me. I hesitate in his arms. I’m not used to being comforted, I only ever do that for other people, not the other way around. I chew on my lip, and pull out of his warm embrace. I look at the wall, littered with random posters and cutouts of pictures of band members. I sniffle. Pathetic. “I think you should leave,” I murmur, my voice all wispy sounding. His hand gently pets my head for a second, then retreats. “Okay,” he whispers back. I peer back at the door after I hear it shut. I lock it back before John can come ask me more questions I don’t want to answer.

August 28. 8:34am.

     I slump down in my chair and rest my head in my arms, folded on the desk. I didn’t get any sleep last night. I cried for most of it, then tossed and turned for a few hours. I think I fell asleep sometime around 3. Luckily I did today’s work yesterday, so I basically have a free period. As everyone around me talks and laughs, I try to sleep, but it doesn't work, as I never can really get comfortable enough to sleep in school. Someone taps me on the shoulder a few times, and I look up sleepily. “Huh?” I ask, squinting at Lily as she smiles politely at me. “Hey, sorry for bothering you. Why are you so tired?” She takes the empty seat next to me.

     I shrug. “I just didn’t get good enough sleep, I guess.” I yawn as I rub my eyes. She nods. “I get that. Then I guess you won’t wanna come with me to the mall after school today, huh?” She bats her eyelashes at me. I think for a second, processing what she asked. “Uh, yeah, no. Sorry, I’m just really looking forward to a nap after I get home.” She sighs, then bites her lip. “Thought so. Tomorrow?” 

     Damn, she really is persistent with this... “Yeah, sure,” I respond, then lay my head back down on the table. She pats my head, before I hear her chair squeak against the floor, signifying that she’s left. Before I succumb to the misty state of mind between awake and asleep, I wonder, just for a second, about Lily. It sure seems like she might have a crush on me, but I don’t think I care enough to think too much about that right now. I’ll figure that out later. I let out a deep breath before closing my eyes.

     For the next couple of periods before lunch, I manage to finish my work quickly, so I get some rest time in each class. I never actually sleep, of course, but it’s better than nothing. I feel better than I did this morning, that’s for sure. As I walk into the cafeteria, I look over at the table Gage and I usually sit at. He’s not there. I frown. Did he really not show up today? I sent him a message before I went to bed last night, telling him that I wouldn’t need a ride for today. Guess he took that as his chance to not even show up. 

     If he had other friends, I’d ask them about it, but he doesn’t really talk to anyone here but me. Wait, I never thought about that before. That’s kinda weird. Well, I guess I don’t have that many friends either, though. I wonder why he didn’t show. Was it because of me? Ugh, of course you find an excuse to think it has to do with you, Y/N. Not everything revolves around you. I internally groan at the pessimistic thought. 

     I scan the room, looking for any table I could possibly sit at. Lily and Stacy sit at a table in the back with a few other people that I don’t know. There’s too many strangers there for me to feel comfortable sitting with Lily and Stace. I think it’s best I don’t sit next to Lily anyways. Xander is definitely a no, though I wouldn’t have to deal with those fangirls anymore. Ever since he came back, he’s told them to calm down I guess, because they don’t practically drool over him anymore. I sigh at the thought of sitting alone today. I got used to talking during lunch.

     I almost trip as someone taller than me pushes past me. “Hey!” I exclaim before registering who it is. They turn around, and I’m met with Jeff’s familiar masked face. “Oh, it’s just you.” I blink at him, a little confused. I’ve never really seen him in here before, so I always assumed he skipped or ate lunch somewhere else. He rolls his eyes before turning to leave. “Wait! Can I eat lunch with you?” I ask and I feel my face burn as the words leave my mouth. That’s such an embarrassing thing to ask. His eyebrows knit together, and he stares at me for a second before letting out a deep, elongated breath. “Fine.” I smile. “Thanks.” 

     He leads the way to a table in the furthest corner, and it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. I guess the janitors just don’t bother with it. He sits down and I take a seat beside him. I watch as he takes out a notebook, writing down in it roughly; with his fingers pressing the pen too hard on the paper. I lean in closer to see what it is, but he tilts the notebook the other way. He glares at me. “Sorry, jeez.” I mutter, looking away. 

     I take out my small lunch, which consists of a water bottle, a chocolate chip muffin, and a lunchable; the nachos, ‘cause that one is by far the best. I eat silently and after a few minutes, my eyes drift back over to Jeff. He’s still writing, his eyes squinting at the paper as if his own writing has somehow offended him. My lips perk up at the sides slightly, and I can’t help but think how peaceful he looks like this. He looks kind of..content. Happy isn’t the word that would describe it, but he doesn’t look like he’s angry, which is how he usually looks. I tilt my head slightly, infatuated by him. He’s always been kinda pretty, hasn’t he? 

     “Why are you staring at me like that?” He asks suddenly, though his eyes never meet mine. My face heats up, and I look back down at my half eaten muffin. “I don’t know. Sorry,” I murmur before eating more. A page of lined paper is slid in front of me, and I squint at it. I feel the heat grow in my face and I have to stop myself from covering it. He drew me. It’s not detailed or anything, but it’s definitely me. Why did he do that? I look back at him, and meet his eyes. His icy blues blink at me. I can’t read his expression, but he’s still not mad. That emotion of his is always easy to see. “You drew me?” I ask, and I bite my lip. Why does my voice have to reflect my anxiousness every time? 

     “Duh. What else does it look like, dumbass?” He rolls his eyes as he taps his pen on the table. I huff and my eyebrows furrowed. “Well, yeah. But why?” He stares at me for a while, and I feel oddly insecure under his inspecting gaze. I watch him contemplate his answer, his eyebrows knitting together. “You drew me,” He grumbled. I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a way to, what, get back at me?” I gawk at him. Did he seriously draw me because he’s still worked up over that drawing I made two weeks ago?

     He rolls his eyes again and it makes me more frustrated. He seemed to hesitate before he began to speak. “Yeah, cause that was dumb. You’re fucking dumb.” He looks away, back down at the paper he took out of his folder. He starts scribbling down in it, and I look back at the drawing. I don’t believe for a second that he drew me because he’s angry. 

     “Oh and don’t look at me like that again.” He catches my attention once more. “Like what? You keep saying “like that”, like what?” I persisted. The sound of my racing heartbeat fills my ears. He meets my gaze for a second. My cheeks burn, and I almost scoff at what he says. “Like you like me or something.” I can hear the smirk in his voice, so I think he’s just messing with me. Key word think. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” His eyes drop to the paper as he continues to write. 

     I frown. “No. He’s not my boyfriend.” I don’t think he will be either. At this rate, I might stop dating him soon. He lost my trust in just less than an hour yesterday, and it’s been eating away at me all last night; and so far all of today too. I don’t know what happened. Was he always so pushy? Was I at fault for his behavior? I just can’t wrap my head around why he acted the way he did so suddenly. 

     I have to remember that I’ve only known him for three weeks, which really isn’t enough. But for those two- almost three weeks- he acted so…nice…perfect. Too perfect maybe? I chew on my lip absentmindedly, nearly forgetting the boy sitting beside me. “You sure act like boyfriends,” Jeff grumbled, and my focus is on him again. I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I voice my thoughts aloud. Why is he acting all weird about it anyways?

     “Please. You’re practically shouting ‘I sleep with this guy!’ with the way you’re always all over each other,” He rolls his eyes. I squint my eyes at him, even though he’s not looking at me to be able to see it. “That’s a bit much. Why do you care anyways?” I counter. Am I all over him? I try to think back to the previous week, but the only PDA we do is hold hands or the occasional hug. Is he…

     “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jeffrey.” I respond smugly. His eyes flash to mine in a second and his calm expression vanishes. “No- what the fuck- I’m not-” He stammers and I laugh. “Really not helping your case.” I smile as his eyes wrinkle. “Why the hell would I be jealous? Your little boy toy isn’t even close to my type.” He finds his voice, and I raise an eyebrow in response. “But am I your type?” His eyes pierce into mine, and he’s silent for a minute. I feel my face heat up with each second that passes. Am I?

     “No. I’m going to class.” He swiftly picks up his papers and file, then practically runs to the other side of the cafeteria. I frown as I watch him walk out. Did he do that on purpose? I chew on my lip. Why do I feel kind of…disappointed, knowing I’m not his type? I shake my head. I don’t need validation from someone like Jeff.

3:19pm.

     I flop down on the bed as soon as I get home. I still feel so emotionally drained from last night and I desperately need a nap. My bed practically called to me ever since I walked in the door. I sigh and throw the blankets over me. I don’t even care enough to change.

     For the next hour or so, I toss and turn this way and that. I just couldn’t fucking fall asleep. I groan, giving up. I sit up and rub my tired eyes. I was thinking way too much. Overthinking about Gage mostly, but also straying to thoughts of Jeff and even Xander. I had turned my phone on silent before attempting and failing to nap, so when I turned it on, I had a few messages. My stomach churns and I suddenly feel sick. 

3:48pm.

Gage: Hey. Can we talk? It’s important.

4:02pm.

Gage: Y/N?

Gage: Guess you’re busy. Talk to you later then.

     I chew on my lip, but it’s pointless as the skin hasn’t had time to heal. I sit up and toss the blankets aside, gazing down at the screen. So he doesn’t come to school and doesn’t even respond to my message last night, and now he wants to fucking talk? What could he possibly want to talk to me about? I sigh. I guess there’s only one way to find out. 

4:25pm.i was trying to take a nap, sorry. what’s up?

Gage: In person. I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.

okay

     I can’t help but frown as I send the message. He didn’t even ask if he could, he just said he was going to pick me up. Who does that? I really don’t understand him right now. Is he still upset over that bullshit yesterday? God, if anything I’m the one who should be fucking upset about that. And if that’s why he’s wanting to talk to me in person, what even is there to talk about?

     I let out a deep breath and rub my face. I don’t need to overthink this. I get up and start to undress. I distract myself by dressing up in something a little nicer. I put on some eyeliner after that too; I figured I might as well. Not that I’m doing this because I’m seeing Gage, because I really don’t care to dress up just to see anyone. Besides, I was hella depressed last year so for a while I dressed like I just woke up- and yet he still liked me somehow.

I leave the house as soon as Gage texts me saying he’s here. It feels so..awkward as I walk out and to his car. As soon as I get in, I expected at least a hello or something, but instead, all he does is start fucking driving. Is he serious? The expression on his face is one I can’t read; he looks neutral, but not. His hands aren’t gripping the steering wheel tightly the way he did yesterday, so if he’s mad, he’s not showing it. That’s good- I guess. 

    God, he looks good. I can’t help but think. His hair is all messy and he’s wearing the outfit he bought yesterday. So he can’t be too upset, can he? If he’s wearing something he bought on a date with me, he shouldn’t be; but maybe he’s doing that to make me feel bad? Ugh, shut up, Y/N, just listen to the music. His music. Shut up! But goddamn, that sweater really does look good on him, even if it’s over a shirt.

     Soon, he parks and gets out of the car. He’s stopped us at a park. Oh, god. I get out, and close the door absentmindedly. This is the park I went with Xander to. A flood of memories comes back to me in an instant, and I get so overwhelmed by them. I remember the way my fist hurt after punching Xander, and how he showed up that following school day with a bandage over his nose. I remember the after; how I was almost fucking killed after hours of walking home. And how that someone looked an awful lot like Jeff.

     A pair of hands grips my shoulders and lightly shakes them. “Y/N, are you alright?” Gage asked, and suddenly my eyes focused on his. My eyes flit over his features, and I realize that I’m feeling really anxious now. Slowly, I nod, and pat his hands with mine. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.” His hands drop before I can really revel in the fact he touched me. So maybe he isn’t mad. “Good.” He turns and starts walking.

     Okay maybe he is. I follow a distance behind him. He walks us up to the benches, and sits down on the table. He glances at me and pats the spot beside him. I take it, leaving a little space between us. I wait for him to speak. I mean, he was the one who took me out here to talk. “Y/N?” He asks, and I look at him, but he’s looking out onto the trees. “Yeah?” I respond, and internally curse myself for how shaky my voice sounds right now. I don’t want him to be mad at me.

     “Two weeks.” My eyebrows furrow. “What?” “Two weeks we’ve been dating, and you still haven’t asked me to be your boyfriend.” His gaze finally meets mine, and his brows are furrowed the same way mine are. But his pretty green eyes are all I can think about. “You haven’t asked me to be your boyfriend either.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay. Will you be my boyfriend, then, Y/N?” He asked, his voice tinged with a bit of frustration. Is this really the reason why he’s upset? I bite my lip, and think about it. I don’t really like the idea of a label. Plus, just today I was thinking about cutting things off with him. I do like Gage, but he really disregarded my boundaries last night. 

     And yet, despite that, I don’t think I care. That’s bad, isn’t it? Yet, he’s liked me in a way no one else has. I had boyfriends before, but we didn’t date. As if we were boyfriends for the sake of not being friends with benefits or just so we wouldn’t sleep with other people. So now that I am dating someone, I want to take it slow, do things right this time. But is this right? I wouldn’t know. Everyone has their flaws, right? So what if Gage’s is him being pushy? That’s hardly anything. It could be much worse.

     “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” That little v in between his eyebrows disappears, and a wide smile makes its way onto his face. His hands cup either side of my face, and he brings me into a kiss. I close my eyes and kiss him back, but I’m not really feeling it. All these thoughts are still floating in my head, and I’m still anxious, so I just kind of let this moment happen. This should feel right. His hands trail from my face down my neck to rest on my chest. He’s never touched me like this, even the night I kissed him for the first time and we almost did something I would have regretted. 

     I rest my hands on his waist, a safe place to put them. His movements become too much, his tongue sliding its way into my mouth- and I have to pull away. His eyes open, and immediately his eyebrows knit together again. “Woah, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, his hands climbing up to cup my face again. I didn’t realize how the tears started to spill out and run down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away and nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, really. Just.. keep kissing me,” I whisper and press my lips against his for another kiss. He hesitates, his hands stiff on my face, but eventually, he kisses back and we resume what we started.

6:47pm.

When we pull up to my house, I go to open the door, but Gage’s hand grabs my wrist. I turn to him, his gaze catching mine. “Ga-” I start, but he kisses me, pulls back momentarily, then kisses me again. It catches me off guard, but again, I let it happen. His hands roam over me; from my face, to my hair, down my neck and chest, then finally resting at my waist. We sat there in the car for a while, his lips melting against mine in a hot and messy kiss. His hands grip my shirt, and he keeps trying to pull me closer, but I’m already as close as I can get while we’re in the car.

     My hands trail from his hair to his chest, and I give him a light push. “Gage, please,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath. He blinks at me, his face turning a little pink. “Sorry, I guess I got carried away.” I opened the door and stepped out. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” I asked, leaning against the frame. He smiled, and I noticed the way it made me disregard the events from yesterday. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up same time as usual.”

     John is sprawled out on the couch when I go inside. I try to pay him no attention as I lock the door. “Hey, you’re finally back. What are we havin’ for dinner?” His words are slurred, and I notice the few empty beer bottles around the couch. God, he got in the old beer again. I need to throw the rest out tomorrow. “Uh, give me a second,” I responded before quickly striding down the hall to my room.

     I place my phone down on my bed, and glance into the small square mirror hanging on my wall. I touch the space on my neck where Gage’s teeth sank in. He got a little too excited at the park; he even drew blood. I chew on my lip anxiously. John would kill me if he saw that. But, I do have to admit, it was cute; the way he freaked out when he tasted it. I open one of my dresser drawers and take out an old turtleneck sweater. I take my shirt off and slip the sweater on. It’s itchy, but I’ll have to wear it tonight, since he’s insisting I order us dinner.