#ALW WHEN I CATCH YOU

[wasianexpress]

why do all the cut songs EAT

[cunfuzzeldmind]

I was having a good day! Thats when I remembered, we could’ve had an “I Am Me” reprise….

[eliziarts]

Kids these days don't even know caboose. They only know break van. and *checks notes* slick oil

[mimimui]

how they spend nights with you

includes: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, shinso, monoma

tags: gn!reader, you're in the same class as them, established relationship, fluff, i used to strictly be a bnha author (??!) and i just missed them so much

a/n: it's been over a year i think (ᵕ—ᴗ—) my writing might be ass rn but i promise i'll lock in soon!!!!!!!! i genuinely miss writing, but as soon as i entered a higher level of education, i lost all free time and couldn't continue writing. but ur fav hc writer is back!

katsuki will not stay up later than 8pm on a school day because he cares a lot about his rest, but if it's a weekend or you're on break, he'd be willing to stay up later with you.

he doesn't care much for the dorm rules, especially since you're his partner anyway, so he will definitely stay in your room past curfew. curse those who catch him in your dorm late at night. what are they going to do?

he's up for whatever you want to do, honestly. movie marathon? self-care night? cleaning your room? he'll do it all. he might jokingly complain here and there, but he's truly relaxed around you. he'll spend nights however you'd like.

everyone knows that izuku isn't one for sleeping early. your nights consist of watching him train outside the dorm building, or sitting on the floor of your room exchanging notes.

if you wanted to do something fun, he wouldn't refuse, but he'd be going back to his own room at the end of the night. not because he doesn't want to sleep with you, he just does it out of respect. your rooms' beds can only accomodate one person comfortably, and he doesn't want to disturb you!

he's more of a morning person, really. so if you'd like a jogging partner or a breakfast buddy, he's up bright and early with you.

he knew that getting into a relationship meant spending a lot of time together, but shoto hasn't received much affection before, so he wasn't quite sure where to start.

when you first suggested spending nights in either of your rooms, he didn't see any problems in it. he quickly got used to this routine, and he always expects to see you at his door after dinner time. you mostly only talk about the happenings of the day and your plans for tomorrow.

neither of you initiate sleeping together at the end of the night, but he isn't opposed to it. he's thought about it, of course, but he won't say anything until you say something first.

denki will match your energy in anything. if you want a quiet night, he'll just be by your side as you both scroll through your phones. if you want a more fun night and do something, he'll be up and at 'em as much as you are.

he is the best person to try new things with because he's just as curious as you. if you want to sneak around the kitchen to make up a new snack, he would be your little flashlight to help you out.

he definitely glows a little in the dark, so if you want to sleep with him, you have to cover him completely with a blanket. he jokes that it's because he's the light of your life, and even if that's true to you, you'd never let him know it. he might glow even brighter.

hitoshi has a hard time falling asleep, so he's grateful for your company every night. he usually asks you to come to his room, but if he feels especially awake, he'd go to your room. you mostly just watch movies together until both of you feel sleepy enough to lie down on bed.

the first time you asked to sleep in the same bed, you didn't think it'd be the last time you'd ever have to. sleeping together is a must now. you have no choice, he loves sharing a bed with you. he thinks it's a good thing to have someone warm next to him as he tries to sleep. it's comforting.

fyi, he has one pillow on his bed. just a single one. so... good luck!

neito needs to see you every night. every time, without fail, he will always end up at your door. you don't even need to do anything together, he just wants to be in the same room as you.

he won't sleep with you if you don't want to, but he's always excited when you ask him to. not because he's planning anything malicious, he's just really happy to be so close to you. to hell with the rules, he will stay in your room if it's the last thing he'll do.

he will probably get in trouble for staying in your room more than in his own, but he wouldn't care much for it. you're his partner, so it's worth getting into a little trouble.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[prkhaven]

FORBIDDEN EYES -s.jy-

Dragged out to a party, you wanted nothing more than to leave, playing seven minutes in heaven leads you being crammed in a closet with the very Jake Sim.

pairing— popular!jake x quiet fem!reader

genre: smut minors do not interact, seven minutes in heaven au, p without plot

wc: 3k

warnings: party setting, alcohol consumption, profanity, reader’s friend sucks, kissing, lowkey down bad jake

smut warnings: unprotect sex (uh oh), p in v, quickie, slight dirty talk, creampie, hand over mouth, usage of nickname (hun)

You stood off to the side, away from the sea of sweaty people grinding their bodies together as music filled the stuffy house leaving no room for your own thoughts.

Through the crowds of people, you tried to look for any of your friends who brought you out here in the first place only you leave you behind in a flash.

You grumbled not believing you allowed yourself to be dragged out this when you told them numerous times you didn’t want to come.

��Looking for someone?” You turned to the accented voice and that’s when you saw Jake, displaying his infamous sweet smile

Out of 10 randomly chosen people, those 10 people will know exactly who Jake is. Captain of the soccer team, surprisingly very intelligent despite his carefree attitude, and most of his small friend group that made a name for themselves.

You knew who Jake simply was and it was the exact opposite of you. You didn’t respond to his question as you continued to look for your friends.

The questioning gaze he shot you cut through you like a knife but you didn’t dare face him, unaware of just how strong his undeniable power could be over you if you looked at him.

“I can help you find whoever you’re looking for” He tried to insinuate the conversation again but you only shook your head walked off, not wanting to stay any longer

Jake rapidly blink at the now empty space in front of him before letting out a scoff as his eyes trailed over you with a slight smirk before going after you. “Hey!” You somehow managed to pick up the same voice you were trying to get away from through the loud noises of the party

When you thought, you had escaped him, you were turned around and met with Jake’s body as he pulled you towards him and held a protective arm over you. You heard a loud thud from behind and you peered over your shoulders to see someone crashed into a wave of people causing them to fall down like dominos.

Your eyes widen as you and Jake’s eyes met as he gave you a tight smile and gave a squeeze to your shoulder before letting his arm fall to his side to let you go.

You shivered at the sudden coldness from when his arm unwrapped itself from around you and you stopped yourself from thinking about that anymore.

“Good thing I was able to catch up to you before you became one of those people” He puckered his plump lips to the people who slipped trying to get back on their feet

He expected to get sine type of reaction out of you from his comment, literally anything would have satisfied him but you only stared at him with an unreadable expression and it was driving him insane.

Just because you were quiet didn’t mean you weren’t known about, especially to Jake. He’s seen you walking around campus multiple times and his eyes always followed you until you were out of his sight as he deemed you, pretty mysterious girl, that he tried numerous times to talk to but always failed in the end.

“Hun! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” One of your friends suddenly appeared after not seeing her the moment you entered the party, as she wrapped her arm around your arm but she piqued seeing Jake

“Jakey? What’s your deal with my friend?” Your friend narrowed her eyes to him as he weakly raised his hands up to show his innocence

“Just watching out for her” His gaze shifted onto you before walking away from the two of you without another word

Your friend dusted you to remove Jake’s presence off of you, “Hun you have to be careful of guys like Jake. He’s always up to no good” Your friend pouted, shaking her head, “I’m speaking from experience”

But instead of paying attention to your friend’s rambles, you zoned out as you unconsciously searched through the numerous crowd of faces until you found Jake’s piercing gaze already on you.

A smirk plastered on his face as he gave a wave towards you, as an acknowledgement, to let you know that just how you looked from him in the crowd, he always looked for you too.

You frowned when you caught his face but your eyes never left his once.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The night was still young according to your friends’ words as they squealed dragging you with them to a separate room in the house away from the party.

Right when you entered the room, it was silent and peaceful. The room blocked out the unbearable noise of the party and you hummed in happiness until your eyes settled upon the circle formed in the middle of the room, your eyes immediately soloing out Jake who let out a grin seeing you.

“You finally made it” Heeseung, another one a part of Jake’s infamous friend group spoke as he motioned for you and your friends to sit down with them

You saw how Jake shot his eyes towards the empty space next to him to you but it was filled by the very friend who warned you to stay away from Jake. “Jakey!” Her voice squealed as she sat uncomfortably close to him

Jake’s eyes darted from you to your friend but you turned your heel to sit across from him in between his other two closest friends, Jay and Sunghoon.

They gave a courtesy greeting as you sat down which you quietly returned, already hating the position you were in.

“Alright! Let’s get this party actually started!” Heeseung called out as he brought out an empty bottle and placed in between the circle

“Are you in middle school Heeseung? What is this?” Sunghoon sharply commented and Heeseung scoffed

“Relax it’s either do the dare or take a shot” Heeseung explained as he brought out a bottle of pure vodka next to hi

With the sudden view of the alcohol, it rose out cheers and claps of joy as Heeseung quickly spun the empty bottle anticipating who would be the first one to be picked.

Your eyes watched the spinning bottle, feeling your heart racing as the bottle spun and spun before slowly coming to a stop right in front of you. Your friend next to Jake gasped seeing you being the first one to be chosen for it.

“What’s it going to be… Dare? Or shot?” Heeseung asked as his hands held the vodka bottle and you gulped, eyeing the bottle

No response came out of you as you still looked to the bottle which made Heeseung raise an eyebrow in amusement, “Choosing to take a shot on the first round. Interesting” He chuckled as he poured you your shot and handed it over to you

You grabbed the shot as you looked ahead of you, seeing Jake’s worried expression but you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable burn in your throat but when you were going to bring it to your lips, a hand suddenly grabbed the shot from you.

You looked to see Jake’s friend, Jay, down the shot in your honor, hissing at the burn. “Aw come on Jay, it was for her!” Your friend grumpily told but he didn’t pay any mind to her and handed the shot back to Heeseung

“Alright Jay’s stepping in as the gentleman he is” Sunghoon clapped his hands loudly at his friend who gave a shove to him behind your back to shut him up

Heeseung looked to you before telling you to spin the bottle for the next round. You leaned forward and weakly spun the bottle before going back to your spot.

As the bottle spun, you leaned your body to Jay who instantly noticed and brought his head towards you, “Thank you for taking the shot for me” You quietly spoke and Jay kindly smiled and waved it off as nothing

“You didn’t seem to want to take the shot or the dare so I decided to step in” Jay returned your soft tone with his own

You gave a small smile and a soft nod of your head before straightening out your posture, seeing the bottle im the corner of your eye slowing down in your opposite direction.

Jake’s fisted his knee as he looked between you and Jay, not able to hear the short shared words. How was it possible that Jay received more attention than he ever could only ever imagine getting in the span of not even 30 minutes in meeting you.

“What’s it going to be Jake? Dare or shot?”

The mention of his name brought him back from looking at you who finally leaned away from Jay and straightened out your body to look at him as the bottle pointed towards him.

“What?” Jake’s confused response as he looked around caused a light ripple of chuckles and Heeseung pointed to the bottle that pointed to him

“Dare or shot?” He was asked the question once again and he snuck a glance to you, who didn’t look away from him once

“Dare” Oo’s filled the room and Sunghoon quickly jumped in, wanting to give his best friend the dare

“I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with someone in this room” Jake felt his heart drop as he stared at his friend, bewildered at the dare given

Sunghoon only smirked before sneaking a glance towards you before leaning back on his hands staring to Jake. “Your choice though”

Hearing the offer of him being allowed to choose who to do seven minutes in heaven made his mind wander to you, the only person clouding him.

Your friend on the other hand was oblivious and batted her eyelashes, seeing Jake get up from his spot as she expected him to offer a hand to join him but her jaw fell slack seeing him walk over to you and offer his hand to you instead.

You looked to Jake’s hand before looking up to his gaze that only focused on you. “Will you do seven minutes in heaven with me?” Jake asked and you hesitantly nibbled on your lip

There was a moment of silence, anticipation filling the air of what your response was going to be to his offer and gasped filled the room when you softly clasped your hands with his as he helped you to your feet then guided you to the closet in the room.

The moment the closet door closed, the timer started. Jake underestimated just how small the closet was as there was barely enough space for the two of you to move freely.

The only source of light was the one shinning from underneath the crack of the closet door. But Jake somehow was able to see your face clearly, as the front of your body was against his.

Jake nervously gulped feeling your tits pressing against him and you slightly moved in the crammed closet and he closed his eyes silently, asking for forgiveness for the sinful thoughts in his head. “Jake?” Your soft voice calling out his name, shot fire throughout his body and burned him

He weakly hummed not trusting himself to speak. “How come you asked me to do this with you?” Your question made him open his eyes to face you

As his eyes found yours in the dark, he could still feel the intensity of the moment and it turn his mind into mush as he softly grasped your cheeks with his hand and brought his face closer to yours, his lips hovering over you. “Push me away if you don’t want this” He murmured and he expected you to shove him away but little did he know, you didn’t want this to stop

Your lips were quick to meet with his and he let out a shocked noise before having his eyes close, melting into the kiss. Everything faded to dust and it was only you and Jake in the entire world.

You wrapped your arm around his head to bruise your lips even tighter together causing Jake to wrap his arms around to hold you close.

This was all he ever wanted to experience and he knew he couldn’t possibly let this go, he was going to make sure he super glue himself to you. “Jakey” You breathlessly let out as he leaned away from your mouth and peppered your jaw and neck with his kisses

“Keep saying my name like that” He murmured in your neck as your hands found their way to the fluff of hair

“Jakey. Jakey” You repeated and Jake’s hold on you tightened as he could feel his mind slipping off hearing your siren voice chanting his name

Such desperation and need filled your bodies as Jake slotted his leg in between you and grazing your clothed core making you let out a loud gasp, gripping his hair as he continued to nibble on your skin.

You slowly rubbed yourself on his offered leg, feeling your panties stick even more to you from the friction and you were panting loudly as you felt the delicious rub against your covered self.

Jake felt your rubbing self on him and smirked as whispered loud enough for you to hear, “Rubbing yourself on me with such desperation makes me think you want me to take you right here, right now”

You weakly nodded your head, mind reeling in the minimum pleasure you were feeling, “Yes, take me right here Jakey. P-please” Your broken out voice went straight to his aching cock and he couldn’t believe that you were asking, begging, for him

This was only supposed to be a simple round of seven minutes in heaven but instead it was going to go down in history in his books as the best seven minutes in heaven to ever exist.

He planted a kiss on the tip of your nose with a deep chuckle, “Anything you wish for hun” The usage of the nickname your friend uses for you made you shudder as it lolled off his tongue with such ease

Jake was quick to bring down his pants just enough for his cock to spring out as you turned to have your back towards him and dropped your panties and pants all in one shot, not wanting to waste the limited time you had left.

“Fuck” He gasped, even under the little to no lighting in the crammed closet, your pussy still glistened “The prettiest ever” Jake rubbed your ass in admiration as it pressed firmly against him

“Jakey please” You whined and Jake shushed you quickly as his chest hit your back as he brought his lips to your ear

“Gotta be quiet hun unless you want everyone out there to know I’m splitting you open with my cock” His hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you shivered at the thought of possibly being caught

You whined loudly and that caused Jake to cover your mouth with his hand as the other one helped eased his cock into your gaping hole. You gasped loudly in his hand from the intrusion, gripping his wrist harshly.

“Sucking me so good. Promise I’ll properly take care of you but right now we’re in a bit of a rush” Jake blabbed feeling the clench of you as you gripped him like no tomorrow

“F-fuck” Jake breathlessly let out only sinking halfway in before giving shallow thrust to help bottom him out later instead of right now, not wanting to be interrupted

You moaned in Jake’s hand as his hips met with your ass from behind. The stretch from his cock made you fall apart and you let your obscene noises fall out and onto his hand that still covered your mouth. “D-didn’t know you could be so fucking loud” Jake groaned as he soon found a fast pace that allowed you both to feel such heights of pleasures in a short amount of time

“Jakey!” Your muffled cries of his name only made him snap his hips harder into you, trying to chase the high for you to come together

His freehand rubbed your clit in fast circular motions causing you to claw his bracelet on his wrist in desperation.

“Come for me, come for me” The words against your ear made your clamp down tightly as you creamed his cock with your juices

His frantic thrust only became messier until he finally bottomed out inside of you as his warm seed filled your insides. He let out gruntled sigh as he emptied himself.

Jake let go of your mouth and held your body in his arm as he noticed your knees bucking from the wave of release.

He finally heard your soft whimpers and he hated how he had to make sure you stayed quiet instead of being able to properly hear your beautiful noises.

Jake soothed the side of your hips to help you relax as he kept his cock buried deep inside you not wanting to leave the warmth you provided for him.

He gulped trying to regain his breath, panting heavily as he could feel the slight twitching of his cock as you still remained your grip on him. The arm that didn’t hold your body up rested against the wall to hold himself up.

He could stay buried in your warm hole forever but the screeching of the closet door opening and the aggravating voice of Park Sunghoon filled his ears, “Time’s up-”

Jake quickly reached behind his back to the handle of the opening closet door and slammed it shut before anyone could see what happened inside the closet.

He didn’t need anyone else seeing you like this, it was something for his eyes only from now on.

You peered over your shoulder in fear but Jake gave you a reassuring smile as he continued to hold the door shut with his hand, “Don’t worry” He gave a feathering kiss to your cheek before poking your side making your squeal and jolt causing a slight friction in between your jointed selves.

He chuckled softly at the glare you sent him as he could feel his heart swelling because of you, “Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to take you out on a date”

——

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝓊𝓃 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝑜𝒷𝓎 𝓇𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: It all started at a frat party [ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒 ], where a guy with a cigarette dangling from his lips decided to make the balcony a little more interesting. What was supposed to be a one-time encounter—just another hazy college memory—ended up being anything but forgettable. 

You were never supposed to see him again, let alone get caught up in his world, but fate—or maybe something much darker—had other plans. Now, you're stuck in a twisted game. The secrets pile up faster than the lies, and the college town you thought you knew becomes a never-ending game.

And you? You never sleep. Because when you chase a monster, you better pray it doesn't decide you’re worth keeping. But hey, if you’re playing in a game, 

…you better be prepared for the hit-and-run. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: Bruh, my roommate hit me with this request right in the middle of midterms. It’s been sitting in my drafts for a minute because I was trying to figure out the decent ending. Finally got around to finishing it because midterms ended (spring break baby), so here you go.

Art by shatteredankles (above) on Instagram

Hope it doesn’t come off too corny—y’all let me know.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: toby x afab!reader, OC! Mention, proxies gang (Kate, Tim, and Brian mentioned), enemies to lovers, smut, toxic relationship, stalking on both sides, cat and mouse dynamics, obsession & possession, dubious morality, crime duo (??), found family (sort of), power play, manipulation & mind games, blood & gore, criminal activity, femme fatale vibes and unhinged ass characters.

There are only two rules you need to survive college:  

Watch your back. Don’t get caught.

Sounds dramatic, right? You might be wondering why anyone would need rules like that in a sleepy little college town, where the biggest crime should be freshmen sneaking out past curfew or someone getting caught swapping answers on an exam. But when you're stuck in a place like this—one that feels just a little too small, a little too quiet—well, strange things start to happen.

The rules started as whispers, traded between students like secret currency, slipping from jittery hands to hushed lips over coffee-stained textbooks. They were nothing more than cautionary tales at first—just another way for the usual college gossip to get a little bite. The kind of thing you'd hear in a dimly lit dorm room at 2 AM, passed off as just another urban legend.  

But rules just don’t come from nowhere.  

The red-brick buildings lining the main street give the town a picture-perfect charm like something ripped straight from an old postcard. The local coffee shop, the one with the overpriced lattes and disappointingly stale muffins is where you go to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist for a little while. 

It all feels safe. Too safe. Like a town frozen in time, where people still leave their doors unlocked and the worst thing that could happen is a bad grade on a midterm.  

But something had to happen, right? There’s a reason for all of it—the security guards, who once spent their shifts scrolling through their phones near the dining hall, now walk the campus in pairs. Their radios crackle more than they used to, static-laced whispers punctuated by clipped voices, urgent and low. Their footsteps aren’t just footsteps anymore; they’re warnings, rhythmic echoes against the pavement, reminders that something is lurking just beneath the surface.  

The campus police? They’re not parked outside the student center anymore, killing time over lukewarm coffee and half-hearted conversations. No, now they circle the parking lots at night, their headlights slicing through the darkness like something predatory. The beams sweep over empty spaces, catching glimpses of movement that might not even be there—but you can’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, is watching.  

Even the professors have changed. The ones who used to hold open-door office hours, always ready to debate a thesis or chat about weekend plans? They’ve started locking their doors. Their smiles don’t reach their eyes anymore, and when they talk, there’s something hesitant in their voices, like they’re choosing their words too carefully. You’ve caught them glancing over their shoulders, eyes darting toward windows as if expecting to see something—or someone—on the other side.  

At first, you told yourself it was just paranoia. College kids have a way of spinning stories, of turning stress into superstition.  

But then the change settled in.  

Your college used to be the kind of place that only felt alive on weekends, the streets overflowing with students, their laughter mingling with cigarette smoke and the sour scent of cheap beer. Not anymore.  

Now, the streets clear out before dark. The dining hall is quieter, conversations hushed, as if speaking too loudly might draw the wrong kind of attention.  

And the woods—the shortcut everyone once used, the one that shaved minutes off the walk between the dorms and the off-campus bars? The one where people used to sneak away for stolen kisses or drunken dares?  

Nobody walks through there anymore.  

Not after the body was found at that frat party.

Not an overdose. Not a bad batch of pills passed between sweaty palms in a dark corner of the party. Not too many shots, not a drunken stumble down the rickety-ass staircase that everyone always joked was a lawsuit waiting to happen. No. This was different.  

The university scrambled to keep up appearances, like slapping a fresh coat of paint over a crumbling wall and hoping no one noticed the rot underneath. They made their statements, rolled out the usual ‘tragedy counseling’ emails, and stationed security around campus like poorly placed scarecrows—useless, ineffective, just there to make it look like they were doing something.  

But it was all for show. Because if the administration was rattled, if the people in charge were nervous, then everyone else had a damn good reason to be terrified. And yet, despite the whispers creeping through every hallway, the paranoia threading itself into every conversation, one thought kept clawing at the back of your mind, an itch you couldn’t quite reach:  

Why the hell can’t you remember what happened?

Because while the rest of that frat house was losing their collective shit over the body sprawled out on the sticky floor, you?  

You were too busy getting your brains fucked out.  

Funny how that worked out, isn’t it? How you were the first to leave that party before the cops even had a chance to step through the front door. While everyone else was panicking, screams cutting through the pounding bass, whispers catching like dry brushfire, you were nowhere near the chaos.  

You were upstairs. Pressed against the balcony railing, fingers gripping softwood, breath stolen by the heat of a so-called one-night stand. Drunk—not on alcohol, maybe a little high too, but on adrenaline, on the way your pulse thrummed beneath your skin, on the way the world blurred into nothing but the rush of the moment. By the time sirens painted streaks of red and blue across the night, you were already gone, slipping through the cracks like a ghost.  

And for the past two weeks, you’ve played your role flawlessly.  

You’ve gone to class and nodded along to lectures as if your mind wasn’t stuck on a loop, replaying that night in fragments, trying to remember what refuses to be remembered. You’ve turned in your assignments, smiled at the right moments, and laughed when it was expected. You’ve answered your parents’ calls, your voice steady, and words practiced.  

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“No, I’m not drinking.”

“Yes, I’ll be careful.”

But it’s all bullshit. Because deep down, you don’t feel fine. 

And you’re not scared like everyone else. Your hands don’t tremble when you pass the flyers—the ones with their vacant-eyed face frozen in ink, the desperate pleas for information scrawled underneath. You don’t flinch at the whispers that slither through the halls, the ones warning that whoever did it might still be out there. 

Because you've been looking for him.

Toby.

It should have ended that night. Just another random hookup at a frat party—one more mistake swallowed up by cheap beer, loud music, and the aftermath of too many bad decisions. But it didn’t. It couldn’t.  

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re looking for him. Maybe it’s because that night is a haze of alcohol, smoke, and adrenaline—a blurry, fragmented memory. But there’s one thing you can’t shake: the way his hands felt on your skin—rough, confident as if he’d already figured you out, mapped out every inch of you without even trying.

It should’ve been forgettable. 

But something about him lingered.  

Maybe it’s because he vanished after the party, like a ghost—gone without a trace, like he was never even there. Just a shadow that flickered in the background and then disappeared when you weren’t paying attention. Maybe it’s because a part of you, the one you don’t even want to acknowledge, needs to know if he had anything to do with what happened that night.  

Because here’s the thing—  

Toby was the last person you saw before everything went to hell.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just some reckless, drunk hook-up who disappeared before the sun came up. It happens all the time, right? One night, a mess of bad decisions, and then—poof. People vanish.  

But the memory of that night won’t leave you alone. It lingers in your head like a half-finished song, the details slipping in and out of focus. The pulsing neon lights. The bass rattling your bones. The press of bodies, the stench of sweat and liquor thick in the air. 

And Toby—always just outside the chaos. Leaning against the balcony railing with that lazy smirk, eyes sharp and unreadable. Watching you. Like he already knew how this was going to end. But now? Nothing. No social media. No mutuals. No whispers in the usual circles. Every time you ask, you get the same response—confusion, shrugs, blank stares.  

It’s like he never existed.  

And that pisses you off more than anything.  

So, like any completely normal, rational, well-adjusted person, you do the only thing that makes sense.  

So you start digging.  

At first, it’s casual. A name-drop here, a lazy, “Hey, you know that guy from the party?” there. You don’t expect a full-blown biography, just something—anything—to prove he was real. A scrap of recognition. A passing mention. A sign that you didn’t just imagine him in the haze of cheap vodka and adrenaline.  

But the deeper you dig, the stranger it gets.  

People remember the party. They remember the chaos, the flashing lights, the sirens wailing in the distance. They remember the whispers about the dead kid found in the upstairs bathroom. But Toby?  

Nothing. No one knows him. Not even a hint of recognition.  

And that’s when the obsession starts to claw its way under your skin.  

Because most people? They just shrug it off. A few tilt their heads, brows furrowing in concentration, trying to pull a face from the fog of a booze-soaked night, but coming up with nothing. It doesn’t add up. Toby wasn’t some invisible figure standing in the corner, just another face in the crowd. He wasn’t some wallflower you might’ve missed in the blur of the night. 

No, he was there. You saw him. You were with him.  

But the more you ask, the more you realize how wrong it all feels. No one remembers him. Not in the casual, "Oh, I was too wasted to notice" way. No, this is something else entirely. This is the "He wasn’t there at all" way.  

One girl insists she saw you alone on the balcony that night. Another swears she’s never had a cute guy at a frat party before, and then there’s the guy—the guy—who looks at you like you’re crazy. He gives you that pitying look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the one who’s lost touch with reality, and says:  

"You sure you weren’t just imagining things?"  

That one sticks. It lodges itself deep in your chest, cold and jagged, like a splinter that you can’t pull out. It burrows in, nagging at you. At first, you laugh it off—this can’t be happening. They’re just clueless, or maybe they’re messing with you. Or maybe they’re lying. But when you look in their eyes, you realize they’re not. They’re dead serious.  

And that’s when the panic starts to creep in. 

Because you know he was real.  

You remember the sound of his voice, low and teasing as it wrapped around your name. You remember the roughness of his hands, the way they gripped your skin like he owned it. You remember the sharp, smoky scent of his cologne, the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you. You remember the way his breath hitched when he laughed, that faint, dangerous edge to it.  

You remember Toby. 

So why doesn’t anyone else?

Like, you still have that hickey he gave you at the frat party.  

The last time you saw him—besides that night—was when he somehow managed to swipe your black lace underwear without you noticing. A cocky little stunt, one you didn’t even realize had happened until you stood outside the frat house, skin still buzzing from the aftershocks of the hookup, your dress smoothed back into place. 

The way his lips dragged over your skin, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. The way his teeth scraped against your neck, the warmth of his breath right before he bit down—just hard enough to make you gasp. Then he laughed, that low, satisfied sound that sent a shiver down your spine, and murmured something about how he hoped it bruised.  

It did. Badly. To the point where you had to cover the damn thing with concealer before class like people don’t need to know your business. 

But that shouldn’t be your main issue right now. 

Your main worry should be your phone. Wait a minute. Your phone?

You’re currently sitting in a study room at the library with your roommate, and you can’t find your phone. It should’ve been buzzing by now—messages, notifications, something. But there’s nothing.

You swear you had it when you left class earlier. Or was it when you and your roommate sat down to study in the library? Either way, it’s gone now. Vanished without a trace.

You check your bag. Nothing. Then your pockets, just to make sure you didn’t slip it in there absentmindedly. Nothing. You check your bag again—maybe, just maybe, reality will bend in your favor, and the damn thing will reappear. But it doesn’t.

Did you drop it in the lecture hall? Like, you don’t remember being that careless, but the last few days have been a blur—so many distractions, so many things happening on campus, it’s hard to keep track of anything, let alone your phone.

But right now, none of that matters. Because your phone is missing, and you’re crawling through the library like a raccoon ransacking a trash can.

You check under chairs. Between the rows of bookshelves. Even behind a vending machine because you’re getting desperate. Nothing.

With an exhausted sigh, you press your hands to your face and let your forehead thunk against the corner of a bookshelf. “I swear to God—”

"Looking for this?"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST—"

You nearly knock over an entire shelf. Your soul, your lifespan, and your dignity all seem to leave your body at once. And there she is. Your roommate. Vidia. Standing way too close, holding your phone between two fingers like it’s some lost artifact.

Your heart is still violently tap-dancing in your chest, and it takes a moment for your brain to catch up with the chaos. “Why do you do that?” you demand, trying to piece yourself back together, but the words are shaky, and your palms are slick with sweat.

She just shrugs, completely unbothered, like she didn’t just almost give you a heart attack. “You make it so easy. It’s like scaring a sleep-deprived squirrel.”

You grab your phone from her with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, glaring at her like she just ruined the rest of your day. "I hope you trip down the library stairs."

Vidia raises an eyebrow, unphased. “Bold of you to assume I’d go down alone,” she quips, already moving on with that air of indifference she’s perfected. “Anyway, I found it by the restroom.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “The bathroom?” you repeat, your voice shaky, confusion and anxiety mixing in an odd cocktail. 

Vidia nods casually like it’s no big deal. “Yup. Just chillin’ on the counter. I figured, ‘Wow, what an absolute dumbass move. Leaving your phone for any psycho to snatch.’”

Your stomach twists, a sudden heaviness filling the space in your chest. The air around you thickens, your breathing shallow, and that tight, suffocating coil of unease winds tighter in your gut. 

You don’t remember going to the bathroom.

You don’t remember leaving your phone there. 

But you were just in class, right? You just finished your exams—finally, that was over. All you wanted now was to breathe, chill, and hang out with Vidia around campus like any normal student should after a hellish week.

You bring the phone up to your face, hoping the screen will make sense of all this. It doesn’t. 

“Was anyone else in the restroom with you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tension seeps through. You can feel it—there’s an edge to your words now, sharp and frayed.

Vidia thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Not that I saw. Just me, when I went in to wash my hands. Don’t know if someone left it or if it fell, but it was just there. Weird, right?”

Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it. Your mind whirls, trying to piece together what’s happening. You’d been in the middle of your exam haze—just trying to power through—and now this? The last thing you remember is walking out of the lecture hall, not a bathroom. 

The more you try to think, the more everything becomes a blur. So much had been happening lately, and you had tried to shut it all out—taking a hit from your pen here and there to avoid overthinking. But now? The thought of your phone, lying abandoned on a bathroom counter, starts to fester in your mind. 

“You’re just lucky I didn’t steal it,” Vidia quips with a grin, oblivious to the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of something that feels much darker than a misplaced phone.

But you’re not laughing. You’re staring at the device in your hand, gripping it like it might disappear if you don’t hold on tight enough.

You don’t remember leaving it there.

And that fact? It sends a cold shiver crawling up your spine.

Your thumb hovers over the power button, almost as if your body knows it shouldn’t make the decision. The screen lights up with a cold, blue glow, harsh against the dim library lights. You squint at the familiar lock screen, but the unease slithers in before your brain even registers it.

It’s subtle at first, just a gnawing feeling deep in your gut—a flicker of something wrong. A creeping whisper at the back of your mind urging you to put the phone down. But before you can think it through, your eyes catch the notification on the call log.

Unknown Number.

No name. No details. Just there, sitting at the top of your contact list like it’s always belonged. Like it’s always been waiting for you to see it.

You freeze. Your pulse stutters, your heart skipping a beat. The silence in the library feels suffocating now like the walls are closing in. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at that name—or rather, the lack of it—but it feels like an eternity before the first message pings through.

Ding.

The sharp chime shatters the stillness, and your breath catches in your throat. Your hand goes cold, and you stare at the screen.

Unknown Number: “You ask about me like you miss me.”

Your stomach drops, cold dread crawling up your spine. Your mind races, trying to connect dots, to make sense of this. You want to swipe the screen away, to forget this moment, but you can’t.

You can’t look away.

Another message appears before you have the chance to react. Your fingers tremble as you read it.

Unknown Number: “You look cute when you’re desperate.”

You can feel the room shrinking around you, the air thick with tension. It feels like you’re drowning in it, and the phone is suddenly too heavy in your hand.

Everything starts to feel wrong. The world tilts on its axis. A creeping sense of violation, of being watched, wraps around you like a suffocating fog. You try to steady your breath, but it’s like the whole library is closing in on you. And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, the last message comes in.

No words this time. Just an image file.

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the screen as a cold dread settles deep in your stomach. Every instinct screams at you to stop—to put the phone down, to close your eyes and pretend it isn’t happening. But something keeps you rooted in place, some twisted part of you that needs to know, that craves the truth, no matter how sickening it might be. Maybe you're hoping it's a mistake. A glitch. Some absurd error. Or maybe you're just too far gone to walk away from this now.

With a shaky breath, you press the image.

The photo loads with agonizing slowness, each second stretching out like an eternity. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in your ears as you watch the image unfold before you. The sense of wrongness, of violation, begins to seep into your bones.

And then you see it.

Your stolen black lace underwear.

The sight hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s your underwear, unmistakably. But it’s... different. The fabric is wrinkled and crumpled in a way that doesn’t make sense. It’s sitting there, in the photo, folded neatly—almost too neatly—on some unfamiliar surface.

And then the weight of it crashes into you. This isn’t some coincidence. This isn’t an innocent mistake. 

Toby’s been watching.

He’s been tracking you. Watching your every move.

And now, he’s making sure you know it.

You stare at the underwear again, your breath caught in your throat. And that’s when it hits you. It’s not just that they’re there, it’s how they look. The lace, once pristine, now looks... ruined. Tattered, in places. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it doesn’t look like something that’s just been forgotten. No, something about it feels off. Like it’s been used.

The realization slams into you with the force of a freight train.

This motherfucker has been jacking off to your underwear.

For a split second, your body goes rigid, a sickening wave of disgust crashing over you, twisting your stomach in ways you didn’t think were possible. It’s enough to make you feel like you need to throw the phone across the room as if you can somehow purge the image from your mind. But, you can’t. It’s already burned into you, like an indelible mark that won’t fade.

And then, strangely, you can’t help but laugh on the inside. It’s a dark, twisted laugh, almost like you can’t even believe how fucking sick this is, but the absurdity of it all hits you all at once. Toby—of all people—using your underwear. A weird, sick trophy. It almost feels like a joke, doesn’t it? 

Of course, he’d do something like this. Why not? Toby’s always been a little off, a little too twisted. But this? This takes the cake. And it’s almost funny how fucked up it all is.

A shiver crawls up your spine, and the dark humor you felt moments ago fades into something colder. The laughter dies in your throat as the full weight of what this means finally settles in. Toby’s not just some background stalker anymore. He’s not some random hook-up that you can brush off. 

No, now, he’s something else entirely. He’s toying with you. He’s playing a game, and you’re the unwilling toy in his twisted little scenario.

But you? You’re no toy.

Does he think he can play games with you?

Well, then, let’s play. After all, two can play this game. And you’re going to make him regret ever thinking he could fuck with you.

The tension gnaws at you as you stand before the same frat house once again, but something’s different. It’s too quiet. Not the kind of silence that comes with a hangover or the weight of exams looming shortly. No, this silence is heavier. More oppressive. The air feels thick, stagnant—almost suffocating. 

Something is festering beneath the surface, something unspoken that makes your skin crawl. Because, let’s not forget, someone did die here. 

And not just any random partygoer—one of theirs. A freshman who had just crossed over into their brotherhood. 

At first, the cops called it hazing. A tragic case of initiation gone wrong. That would’ve been bad enough, something dark and twisted that the university could still pretend was just a mistake. But then the body showed up with two hatchets buried deep in his back.

And suddenly, that story didn’t make sense. 

Like yeah, the frat guys might be assholes. But they’re not that creative.  

Still, the university isn’t convinced. Neither are the cops. Whispers slip between students like a sickness, each theory worse than the last. Some say the frat is covering something up. That they know more than they’re letting on. And if that’s true—then maybe, just maybe, they know something about Toby.

You don’t want to be here. Every bone in your body tells you to turn around, to forget about this. But that’s the thing about you. 

You don’t let things go.

So you lift your hand and knock. Twice. Sharp, firm.  A few seconds later, the door cracks open just enough to reveal a guy with messy brown hair, the kind of unshaven face that says he’s been too busy—or too stressed—to care. His eyes flick over you, full of mild irritation, like you’re already wasting his time.  

“What?” No frat boy charm. No lazy grin. Just tired.

“I need to ask you about this white dude at the party,” you say smoothly. There’s something just beneath your voice, a sharpness, like a blade hidden under silk. “The one with the gash on the left side of his face. Orange yellow-tinted goggles.”  

The guy hesitates. Just for a second. 

It’s small—barely noticeable—but you see it. The way his fingers twitch. The way his jaw tightens. The way his eyes dart to the guys on the couch behind him. A silent conversation flickers between them, and you know, you know, that they recognize the description. 

But then, just as quickly, he fixed his expression into something unreadable. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says flatly, and before you can call him on his bullshit, he moves to shut the door in your face.  

Your foot slides into the gap, firm and unmoving, keeping the door from closing. His eyes snap down to it, then back up to you, realization dawning that you’re not leaving.  

You smirk. Slow. Sharp. “Oh, come on,” you say, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous. “You really wanna make me report you guys for the little stash you had at the party? Alcohol, drugs, minors—you know, all the fun stuff that could get your charter revoked?”  

His throat bobs. Behind him, one of the guys on the couch mutters, “Dude, just—just let her in.” After a long pause, he exhales through his nose, “All right, all right, chill. I’ll tell you what I know.” He reluctantly steps back. “But if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.” 

You step inside, and just like that, the game shifts. Eyes flicking between you and the frat dude that let you in. They weren’t expecting this. You see the moment they realize you’re not some naive young woman who can be shrugged off, and the power shifts. The dude in front of you swallows, his posture shifting from cocky to uncomfortable.

The others stay silent, watching you like you’re a predator who’s already got them cornered. “…yeah, we know him,” he starts, his voice lowering like he’s deciding just how much to let slip. “He’s been our dealer for about four months now. We’ve been buying from him since the fall semester. The dude’s smooth runs a tight game. Don’t ask questions, just deliver.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. 

“Then the spring semester hit, and things started to get weird,” the guy continues, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Prices went up. A lot. Like, from $10 a hit to $25, and that’s when he started bringing in freshmen, getting them to pay even to be part of the circle. Made ‘em think they needed the ‘in’ to get good stuff.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, disgust curling in your stomach. Freshmen are getting scammed for some easy cash. Classic. Desperate kids want a taste of the so-called ‘college experience,’ only to get wrung dry by a bunch of losers who think running a glorified middleman operation makes them untouchable.  

But the pieces are falling into place now, slotting together in a way that makes your skin prickle.  

Toby’s been keeping a low profile—not just from you, but from everyone. The sudden price hikes, the freshmen he’s been pulling in, the way he’s moved from just dealing to controlling access altogether… That’s not just business. That’s survival. He’s hiding. 

And whatever he’s running from? It’s bad, of course, as you figure.

You exhale, shaking off the lingering sense of unease. You got what you came for—at least for now. “All right,” you say, turning toward the door. You pause just long enough to glance back at the frat guy still lingering there, relief evident in his slack posture. Like he’s just barely dodged getting torn apart. You let the silence stretch for just a second too long, enjoying the way it makes him shift uncomfortably. “And thank God you let me in for free, huh?”  

Your lips curl into a smirk, playful, but with that signature sharpness laced beneath it. “Guess I just look hot enough to get the VIP treatment.”  

He snorts, trying to play it cool, but you can tell you’ve gotten under his skin. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say…”  

You turn away, stepping off the porch, but just as you hit the sidewalk, you pause. There’s still something sour in your mouth, a lingering irritation. You glance back at them, the group of them still loitering near the doorway, watching you leave. 

And then, just for the hell of it, you bark at them.  

Loud. Sudden. Sharp. The reaction is instant. One of them flinches so hard he almost drops his drink, another curses under his breath, and the frat guy in the doorway? He just stares at you, stunned into silence. You laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you walk away, hands in your pockets.  

Cowards. But whatever. 

They gave you what you needed. 

You return to your dorm, pushing your personal room door and clicking shut behind you as you toss your leather bag onto your bed, the skull keychain and grey fox fur charm swaying with the movement. The weight in your chest hasn’t eased—not after what you just found out. Or, more accurately, what you didn’t find out. You have enough information to find Toby. 

And that thought alone is enough to make you grin.  

The reflection in the mirror barely feels like you as you move with practiced ease, wiping away the remnants of the day and replacing it with something sharper, something darker. You smear a deep shade of lipstick across your lips, press them together, and watch as your own gaze hardens. There. That’s better.

With quick, fluid movements, you strip off your casual clothes and slip into something more fitting for the night ahead. A loose off-the-shoulder black top drapes over your frame, half-tucked into studded short shorts that sit snug on your hips. Your ripped black tights cling to your legs, the delicate fabric holding on by threads, a look of controlled chaos.

You lace up your boots—low-heeled, ribbons threaded through the worn-out lace holes, their weight familiar as they clunk softly against the floor. Every piece you put on is intentional. The studded bracelets stacked high on your wrists, the layered silver chains hanging low against your collarbone, the rings that glint under the dim light of your vanity. Finally, you grab your leather jacket, the soft fur lining brushing against your neck as you shrug it on. It’s more than just a piece of clothing—it’s armor.

With a steadying breath, you shove your phone into your bag, along with your skull-emblazoned pocket knife, a lighter, and a few other essentials. The night is unpredictable, but you’ve learned to prepare for anything.

You’re just finishing the last swipe of your eyeliner when the door swings open, making you jump slightly.

Vidia.

She steps into your room like she owns it, moving with that effortless, almost grace of hers. Dressed in an oversized shirt and short shorts, her hair bundled into a bonnet, she looks almost too casual—except for the sharp amusement in her eyes as she takes you in.

“Well, well, well.” She sidles up behind you, her arms draping lazily around your shoulders, chin propped against your head as she watches you in the mirror. “And where exactly is my dear, morally-questionable roommate running off to tonight?”

You don’t answer immediately, fixing the last touches on your mascara. Vidia hums, like she’s already forming a dozen theories in her head, each more ridiculous than the last.

“Lemme guess,” she continues, her voice playful but prying, “you’re off to summon a demon, break into a museum, or—oh, oh—are we robbing a bank now? Because, bitch, I need a cut if we are.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Just out.”

Vidia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no shit. Out where?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, glancing at her through the mirror. “Following up on something.”

That wipes some of the amusement from her face. She straightens slightly, arms loosening around your neck. “Following up?” she repeats, voice dipping in suspicion. “You’ve been acting weird as hell since that party. And considering what happened…”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Weirder than usual?”

She points at you, toothbrush still clutched in her hand like a weapon. “Yes. And that’s saying something.”

For a moment, you debate brushing her off, but the truth sits heavy on your tongue. If things go sideways tonight, someone should at least know you went looking.

You meet her gaze in the mirror. “If I’m not back by ten…” You hesitate, then smirk, voice dropping into something more deliberate. “Hit and run.”

The playful glint in Vidia’s eyes vanishes. Her grip on your shoulders tightens.

“Wait—”

But you don’t give her time to press. You step past her, boots heavy against the floor as you move straight for the door.

Because tonight, you’re finally getting some real answers.

Outside, you lean against the cool brick of a nearby building, the faint glow of the streetlights flickering like distant stars in the late-night quiet. The cigarette between your fingers burns slowly, the smoke curling up in delicate tendrils, dissolving into the night air. 

It’s a small comfort in everything—something familiar, something that lets you breathe, even if just for a moment.

The gas station across the street hums with the low buzz of neon lights. The smell of gasoline mixes with the stale scent of the night air, and for a brief second, everything feels so… normal. Like this town hasn’t been tainted by whatever's been happening, by all the things you've discovered. But you know that’s a lie. It’s not normal anymore. 

It hasn’t been for days.

The events at the frat house hang over the entire campus like a cloud, casting a long, dark shadow over everyone. Most students have retreated to their dorms, staying inside, clutching whatever comfort they can. The usual buzz of parties and late-night drinking is absent. No one is passing around bottles of cheap liquor. It’s like the very air is holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

And you’re waiting for something, too. You're waiting for Toby. Because you’re starting to put the pieces together.

You crush the cigarette under your heel and pull out your phone, staring at the screen, still haunted by the last message, the photo. The stolen underwear. The message that told you exactly what kind of game he’s playing. 

And now you need to find him.

You turn your head, casting a glance at the nearby woods that border the edge of the college town, the trees silhouetted against the dim glow of the horizon. You’ve heard rumors about the woods. About the things that go on there when the sun sets, when the air goes still and thick with the promise of secrets.

With a quick decision, you push off from the wall, the gravel beneath your shoes crunching as you move toward the shadows. You cross the street and head down a narrow alley, passing the broken-down bar where students used to hang out, now practically deserted. The air feels thicker here as if the whole town has been holding its breath.

As you walk, your mind races. You’ve been hearing whispers. People at the library. Students in the dining hall. They’ve been talking about Toby, but never in any serious way. Just in passing. But that’s when you hear it—the mention of the frat house again. Drug dealer. Secret deals. Low-key operation.

The pieces click together.

It’s not just about sex, about teasing. Toby’s deeper into something darker than you could’ve imagined. The whole thing with your underwear wasn’t just some sick little game. No, that was the warning shot.

You stop, your gaze scanning the area. A couple of drunk students stumble out of a nearby building, laughing too loudly for this hour, but they stop when they notice you standing in the shadows, eyes narrowed in your direction. You don’t care about them, though. You care about one thing, and one thing only.

You walk up to the group, forcing your voice to sound casual. “You guys know a dealer around here?”

The two guys exchange a look, clearly uncertain. “Dealer?” one of them repeats, scratching his head. “Uh… don’t know him well. He’s a quiet guy, always hanging around with the frat boys. You know, that one? He deals… stuff.” He waves his hand vaguely in the air.

“Stuff?” you push.

The guy stares at you, trying to gauge your seriousness. “Yeah. Drugs, I think. Not sure what, though. I heard he’s got connections, really low-key. But it’s all hush-hush. Don’t mess with that guy. Trust me.”

You keep your voice steady, suppressing the surge of adrenaline coursing through you. "Do you know where he deals? Where I can find him?" you ask, looking directly at the guy. He hesitates for a second, clearly trying to figure out if you're bluffing or genuinely looking for trouble.

His eyes flicker around, checking the quiet street, before he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice. “I heard he does most of his deals out by the old abandoned warehouse on the south side of off-campus. Not many people go there anymore, but... yeah, that's where he usually pops in and out..”

A thrill runs through you at the mention of the warehouse. That was exactly the kind of place Toby would hide in, away from prying eyes. You give the guy a quick nod of thanks, not waiting for any more unnecessary chatter.

You don’t have time to waste. 

Your feet crunch against the gravel as you walk away, quickly but quietly, the cool night air tugging at your jacket. You’ve got one thing on your mind—finding Toby. 

Whatever game he thinks he’s playing with you, it ends tonight.

You cross the street, your pulse quickening as you head toward the path that leads to the empty south side of campus. The abandoned warehouse is just beyond it, tucked away behind a cluster of trees. It’s so quiet now. No drunken crowds. No obnoxious parties.

Just the occasional sound of a car passing, its tires humming against the road. The further you get from campus, the more desolate it feels, as if you're stepping into a place where no one belongs.

A chill creeps up your spine, but you push it down. You’re not scared. You’re pissed. As you round a corner, you stop in your tracks.

Up ahead, parked near the back of the warehouse, is a sleek black truck. The engine is still running, and the low growl of it vibrates in the air. The driver’s side door swings open, and out steps a man in an orange jacket, his movements swift and purposeful. He’s followed by another guy in a mustard-yellow hoodie, his head tilted down, hiding his face.

You squint, trying to make out more, but they’re too far, too blurry in the darkness. But then—

There he is. Toby. 

He steps out from the other side of the truck, his silhouette cutting through the dim light like a blade. Even from this distance, you recognize him immediately. The way he moves—calm, unhurried, carrying that same cocky arrogance in every step. Like he has nothing to fear. Like he’s in control.  

The bastard has been playing games with you. The messages, the pictures, the feeling of always being watched—it all leads back to him. And now? Now you finally have him in your sights.  

He doesn’t even glance your way as he walks toward the warehouse, his focus elsewhere. The two men follow close behind, their presence just as unsettling. Older, more seasoned. You can tell by the way they move, the way they keep close but slightly behind Toby. Like they’re equals in whatever the hell this is. Or maybe they’re watching him just as much as he’s watching them.  

The truck’s engine rumbles softly, headlights flickering as the warehouse door clicks shut behind them.  

You should be back at your dorm.  

You should be calling the police.  

But instead, you’re here—standing at the edge of something dangerous, heart-pounding but mind-sharp. You exhale slowly, steadying yourself. “Don’t rush this.” You keep to the darkness, moving low and careful, each step precise. Recklessness gets people killed. You’re not stupid enough to charge in blindly, not when you don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of that door.  

No, you’re going to do this right. You settle into position, hidden in the dark, eyes locked on the building. Watching. Listening. Calculating.  

If Toby wants to play games, then fine.  

You’ll play too.  

But on your terms.

You look down at your phone for a sec before looking at the two men. They’re clearly not college students or even people your age—these guys are at least in their mid-30s, their grizzled features giving them away. One of them has a sharp jaw and a slight scar across his chin, while the other’s got graying hair at his temples, making him look out of place in the shady world they’re operating in. 

Toby, on the other hand, still looks like he’s in his early 20s—too young for this, you think, but there’s no doubt in your mind he’s right in the thick of it. He’s standing with his back to the truck, a smirk playing on his lips as he talks to the two men.

You squint, listening carefully as their conversation drifts your way, just low enough that you can’t make out every word, but enough to catch fragments.

“Everything’s across campus now,” one of the older men says, his voice rough, sounding almost too calm for what’s being discussed. “Gotta keep it clean. The cops are getting nosy.”

Toby responds with a quiet laugh, the cockiness in his tone clear even from this distance. “Yeah, we’ve been laying low. Nobody’s really looking in the right places. But I’ll admit, the pressure’s on, especially with all the weird shit happening on campus.”

The other guy in the mustard hoodie just grunts, tugging at his sleeves. “Our job’s done, yeah? Clean up’s all that’s left, then we’re out.”

Job? What job are they talking about? 

You frown, trying to piece it all together. “Clean up” sounds like something more than just dealing. Were they cleaning up a mess? You don’t know what kind of mess it would be, but it doesn’t sit right with you. Not at all. 

Could it be... connected to the student who died in the frat house? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a faint rustle behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up. The night feels too quiet all of a sudden. And then, out of nowhere, you feel a pair of hands slam into your neck, pinning you harshly to the dirt floor beneath you. 

You try to gasp, your lungs seizing, but it’s impossible. You’re trapped—held down with frightening strength, unable to fight back. The pressure around your neck tightens, and your head spins. You can’t see who it is at first, everything happening too fast, too violently. But then, you hear the sound of fabric rustling, the force of weight pressing down on you.

Your phone’s flashlight flickers weakly, its glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. But it’s enough to make out the figure above you.

A woman.

Her face is hidden behind a white mask, blank and haunting, its surface smeared with dirt and something darker, something crusted into the fabric of her hoodie like dried blood. The hoodie’s sleeves are shoved up, exposing lean, sinewy arms, the muscles tensed with barely contained energy. Her dark wash jeans are loose, but nothing about her posture is. She’s coiled like a live wire, electric with something feral. Something unhinged. 

Before you can react, her hands snap around your throat.

It’s not just a grip—it’s a full-body attack, her weight slamming you into the dirt like a predator taking down prey. The ground is cold beneath you, damp with the earth’s decay, but the pressure around your throat burns. Her fingers dig in, nails biting into your skin as she squeezes, tighter and tighter, cutting off everything—your breath, your voice, your control.

Panic surges. You try to pry her hands off, but she’s stronger than she looks. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s like she wants you to suffer. Like she lives for the fight.

You thrash, legs kicking up dirt, arms scrambling for anything—her wrists, her face, a rock—something. But she doesn’t budge. She leans in closer, her breath ragged through the mask, and you can feel the violent tremors in her body, the sheer force she’s pouring into this. 

The world around you starts to shrink. Your lungs burn, your vision swims with dark spots, and the muffled roar of your own pulse drowns out everything else. It’s a slow, suffocating descent, the kind where time stretches and your body knows—knows you’re running out of seconds.

But then—flash.

The beam from your phone flickers, catching the mask again. The light hits her dead-on, exposing the stains, the dirt, and the eerie emptiness of the featureless face.

She jerks.

Like an animal recoiling from fire, she flinches, her whole body shuddering with something violent. And then—just as suddenly as she attacked—she lets go.

Air rushes back into your lungs, burning like acid as you gasp, choking on relief. You cough, your whole body trembling from the shock of it, your vision blurred with tears. Your hands clutch at the dirt beneath you, desperate for something solid, something real.

The woman stumbles back, her breathing frantic. But she isn’t running. Not yet.

She raises her hands—not in defense, but in shame. Covering her face. Clutching at the fabric of her hoodie like she can somehow disappear into it. Like she needs to. 

“Don’t…” Her voice is hoarse, unsteady. “Don’t look at me.”

Her words hit like ice in your veins.

She’s not just hiding. She’s terrified.

Your flashlight flickers again, throwing a shaky, erratic glow across her body. She cowers from it, shrinking into herself, the bloodstains on her hoodie almost glowing in the dim light.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Her voice cracks, the desperation threading through her words almost unhinged. She’s backing away now, dropping to her knees as if the weight of her own body is too much to bear.

Your head spins, the world still tilting from the lack of oxygen, but your mind clings to the words.  

What the hell does that mean? Who is she? 

And why did she try to kill you?

None of it made sense. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body refused to listen. The weight of everything—the fight, the fear, the lack of oxygen—dragged you down like an anchor, pulling you deeper into the abyss.

Your vision blurred, flickering between the dim glow of your phone and the swallowing darkness. Your body tingled, a numbing sensation creeping into your limbs, making them heavy—too heavy. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale weaker than the last.

The world tilted the edges of your perception distorting like ripples in water.

And then—nothing.

It was as if the air itself had thickened, pressing down on you, suffocating your senses into a muted void. Your mind drifted, untethered from reality, sinking into unconsciousness as the last traces of awareness slipped through your fingers.

When you woke up, it felt like you were underwater.

The world was sluggish, muffled. Your head pounded with a dull, relentless ache, and your limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if they weren’t your own. It took a moment for your senses to return—to realize that something was wrong.

The cold, hard surface beneath you wasn’t the forest floor. It was rough, and industrial, the vibrations beneath you sending small jolts through your aching bones. The scent of stale air and gasoline clung to your nose, mixing with something metallic—blood?

Your thoughts were a mess, tangled and sluggish, but the first thing you knew for certain was this: You were moving.

Not by choice.

Your eyes flickered open, disoriented by the dim lighting. It was cramped, the space too small to stand, too enclosed to be anything but—

A van.

Panic surged through your veins like ice. You tried to move, to sit up, but something pulled at your wrists. Tight. Restrictive. The unmistakable bite of zip ties dug into your skin, keeping your hands wrenched behind your back. A second struggle confirmed your legs were just as bound.

Trapped.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe, to think. The low hum of the van’s engine filled the silence, steady and rhythmic. But then—voices.

Two men.

Their words were distant at first, muffled by the barrier separating you from the front seats, but the more you strained your ears, the clearer they became.

“I had a feeling this was gonna bite us in the ass,” one of them muttered, his voice rough and edged with frustration. “Who would’ve figured she’d track us down just to find him?”

A tense pause. Then, the second man grunted. “Yeah. They’ve been sniffing around for a while now. Too much digging.”

Your breath hitched. They were talking about you.

Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the sound of the tires grinding against asphalt. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, but you were trapped, bound, and helpless in the back of a moving van with no idea where you were being taken.

And worse?

You weren’t alone.

Your gaze shifted, and that’s when you saw him.

Sitting right in front of you, as if he were just another passenger—as if nothing had happened—was Toby.

The man you’d been chasing. The one you couldn’t forget.

Toby sat there with unsettling ease; his posture relaxed as if this were just another casual meetup instead of a kidnapping. His hoodie—multi-colored in faded shades of beige and dark blue—looked worn, like it had seen its fair share of seasons. The orange-yellow goggles resting on his face caught the dim interior light of the van, casting eerie reflections that masked his expression. A dark bandana covered his mouth, but it did nothing to hide the weight of his gaze.

His eyes—cold, dark brown, and unwavering—locked onto yours with no fear, no hesitation. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even amused. He was just... watching.

Like he already knew exactly what was running through your mind.

The silence between you stretched, thick, and suffocating. Your heart pounded in your chest, but your body remained frozen, still bound and helpless.

You swallowed, your throat dry and tight, before shifting against the restraints, your lips fumbling to pull the dumb cloth from your mouth. When you finally spoke, your voice came out shaking but determined.

“Why are you doing this?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. He just kept watching you, head tilted slightly, the way someone might study an animal in a trap. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—not a full grin, just a ghost of one, something cold and distant that never reached his eyes.

“You were getting too close to the truth,” Toby said simply, his tone void of any real emotion. Like he was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought you could dig around, ask questions, play little Miss Detective.”

Your breath hitched, and your mind scrambled to piece it together. “That frat guy…” you started, but Toby cut you off.

His eyes flickered away for the briefest moment before he spoke again. “It wasn’t about him,” he said, voice low and controlled.

You furrowed your brow, confusion twisting in your gut. The pounding headache still clawed at your skull, but you pushed through it, grasping for understanding. “What? Then why—why was everyone acting like it was related to him?”

Toby shrugged, casual as ever, as if none of this truly mattered to him. “Because it’s easier that way,” he said. “People hear ‘frat party death’ and assume it’s some overdose, some accident. They don’t think to look deeper. They don’t think to ask the real questions.”

Your stomach twisted. You’d been asking those questions.

That’s why you were here.

Toby’s gaze flickered back to you, sharper now. More focused. “You were poking your nose where it didn’t belong,” he continued, his voice quiet but firm. “Digging into my deals, my business. Asking around about me and my crew.” His fingers tapped idly against his knee, rhythmic and steady. 

“And I didn’t like it.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, the pieces slowly clicking into place—but something still didn’t fit. “You’re just a dealer,” you said, though the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. “You—”

Toby let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Just a dealer?” He tilted his head as if he were genuinely considering it. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You never really thought about what else I could be, did you?”

His words sent a cold shiver down your spine.

What else he could be?

Your breath stalled, your mind reeling as you stared at him, searching his face for some kind of answer, or denial. But he gave you nothing—just that same quiet, unwavering look.

And then, he gave you something worse.

A slow, creeping grin stretched beneath his bandana, the faintest glint of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. His voice dipped into a hushed whisper as if savoring the moment, drawing it out like a cat playing with a wounded mouse.  

“You got lucky, y’know,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Most people who figure me out? They don’t live long enough to be warned.”  

Your breath hitched.  

A serial killer.  

The words burned into your mind, branding themselves deep in your consciousness. He wasn’t just some dealer, some criminal lurking in the shadows of frat parties and campus gossip. He was something far worse.  

He killed that guy at the party.  

Before you could fully process the horror unraveling before you, Toby moved. Fast. Too fast. He was on his feet in an instant, boots thudding against the metal floor of the van as he closed the distance between you.  

A sharp yank. Pain exploded across your scalp as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it, dragging you up with brutal force.

 A muffled cry tore from your throat, but the gag kept it from escaping beyond the walls of your prison. Your body jerked against the binds, instinctively trying to recoil, but his grip was unrelenting, like iron chains wrapped around your skull.  He studied you, his head tilting slightly to the side. Amusement flickered across his face—sick, entertained amusement.  

“Pretty enough to sell off,” he muttered to himself, as if considering his options, as if you weren’t even human, just another item to be weighed, evaluated, discarded at will. A cold, twisted smile tugged at his lips, but before he could revel in his own depraved thoughts any further, something inside you snapped. 

The terror, the panic, the helplessness—it all boiled over into something sharp, something furious. Your eyes burned with a mix of rage and defiance as you wrenched against his grasp, a snarl ripping from your throat. “Don’t you dare touch me!” Your voice was raw, cutting through the air like a blade. “You stay the hell away from me!”  

For a moment—a split second—Toby actually paused.  

His grip on your hair loosened just slightly, his head tilting as though intrigued. Those goggles hid his full expression, but you swore you saw something flicker behind them. Surprise? Curiosity? Annoyance?  

But then, just as quickly, the smirk returned.  

“Maybe I won’t,” he mused his voice light, teasing as if the thought genuinely amused him. Then, his head tilted the other way, and his fingers curled just a bit tighter around your hair. “But then again… what are you gonna do about it?”  

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, pressing against your ribs like a vice.  

This was all a game.

That’s what this was to him.

Toby wasn’t some reckless criminal stumbling through a crime spree. He was precise. Calculated. He had planned this, orchestrated every moment, every step, every mistake you had made.

And you had walked right into it.

The van lurched to a sudden stop, the force jerking your body forward before slamming you back against the cold metal interior. The low hum of the engine faded into silence, replaced by the eerie creak of the back doors swinging open. A rush of crisp night air hit your face, sharp and unforgiving, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then, the silhouettes appeared.

The same two men stood in the doorway, their forms backlit by the pale glow of distant headlights. The first wore an orange hoodie, its fabric stained with deep, dark smudges—blood? The longer you stared, the more it looked like a grotesque, distorted face staring back at you.

The second man was more unnerving. He donned a mustard-colored jacket, his face hidden behind a white, doll-like mask. The featureless stare was somehow worse than if he had been sneering at you. The lifeless gaze made your stomach twist into knots.

Who the hell are these people?

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your mind racing through every possible outcome. Were they here to help Toby? To kill you? To take you somewhere even worse?

Toby stepped forward, his boots crunching against gravel as he moved toward the open doors. He gave the two men a slight nod—wordless confirmation. The tension in the air thickened, choking you like an invisible hand around your throat.

Think. Think.

“Wait!” The word shot out of your mouth before you even realized you had said it.

Toby’s head tilted, his goggles catching the dim light as he looked at you. He didn’t say anything, but his body language told you everything—you had exactly three seconds to say something that would interest him.

“Let’s make a deal,” you forced out, your voice steady despite the sheer terror pounding against your ribs.

Toby’s posture relaxed slightly. He rolled his shoulders back, amusement flickering beneath his bandana. “A deal?” His voice was smooth, deceptively light, but there was a razor-sharp edge just beneath the surface.

You swallowed hard, trying to read his expression through the obscurity of his mask. “Yeah… like a game?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted it. You had no idea what kind of sick, twisted shit Toby and his so-called friends were involved in, but you knew one thing—people like him loved games. And the ones they played? They were never fair.

Toby considered you for a long, agonizing moment. The air between you both felt charged, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on your shoulders. Then, without looking away, he reached up and adjusted the bandana covering his mouth.

“All right,” he murmured. “I’ll play a game.”

Your stomach dropped. The two men in the doorway exchanged glances, one of them chuckling under his breath. Toby stepped back, motioning toward the open doors of the van. “It’s simple. If you win, you get to leave. You go back to your lame little college life, pretend none of this ever happened.” He paused, letting the silence stretch long enough for dread to seep deep into your bones.

“And if I lose?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toby’s grin was slow, smirking.

“Well… you know what happens to you.”

The answer was obvious. Your blood ran ice cold, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. You couldn’t let him see the fear creeping in, couldn’t give him the satisfaction. You had no idea what kind of game he was about to throw you into, but one thing was certain—losing wasn’t an option.

Toby’s voice cut through the thick night air like a blade, sharp and taunting.  

“Still wanna do it, babe?” His tone was almost mocking, daring you to back out, to admit you had made a mistake. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction.  

“Yes,” you said, forcing steel into your voice. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” The words tasted like a death sentence the moment they left your lips.  

Toby’s grin stretched wide beneath his bandana, amusement flickering in his eyes. Without warning, he slammed his fist against the van’s metal frame. The impact sent a deep, resonating thud through the vehicle, reverberating in your bones. The sudden noise made you flinch, but Toby? He was enjoying this. The tension, the fear—it fed him.  

What the hell had you just agreed to?  

Before you could process it, he moved. Toby approached with a slow, deliberate stride, each step uncomfortably calculated. His presence loomed over you, suffocating in its intensity. Even in the dim light, you could see the way his shoulders were relaxed, the slight tilt of his head—it was all a game to him, and he was playing for keeps.  

You barely had time to react before his fingers reached for the gag tied around your mouth.  

For a fleeting second, hope sparked. Maybe he was giving you some form of freedom, maybe he wanted to hear you speak, maybe—  

The thought was ripped away when, instead of removing it, he shoved the cloth deeper into your mouth, pulling the knot tighter with a cruel yank. A muffled grunt of pain escaped you as the rough fabric cut into the corners of your lips.  

“Good,” he murmured, the word dripping with satisfaction. He turned his head toward the two men outside the van, motioning lazily with his hand. “Stay put.”  

They didn’t move, didn’t speak—just stood there, their masked faces as unreadable as before. Silent sentinels in the dark.  

Toby’s fingers wrapped around your shoulder, his grip firm, cold, and unyielding as he yanked you forward. The ropes binding your wrists dug deep into your skin, burning against every movement. You winced but bit down the noise. You weren’t going to let him see your pain.  

“Just me and you,” he said, voice quiet, like he was savoring it.  

Something about those words made your stomach twist.  

The two men hung back as Toby shoved you out of the van and into the creepy woods like the world was just one big horror movie set and you were the unsuspecting victim. The cold air slapped you in the face, and the ground beneath your feet was a minefield of rocks and loose gravel, making you feel like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time. 

Toby gave you a lazy push forward like he wasn’t even trying, just enjoying the show. He stayed just behind you, his footsteps light—almost like he was walking on air. It was creepy as hell. Not only did you know he was right there, but it was also the fact that he wasn’t saying anything.

Silence was his weapon, and he was wielding it like a pro. You could feel his gaze on your back like he was tattooing his presence into your skin.

But honestly, it wasn’t even just Toby that had you on edge. It was the whole damn woods. You couldn't shake the feeling that the trees had eyes, like they were watching you. They creaked and groaned in the wind, casting creepy-ass shadows that danced around you. Every time you dared look away from the path, the darkness seemed to creep closer, like it was alive and hungry for a snack.

And your brain? Oh, it was having a panic attack. Thoughts scattered everywhere, like someone knocked over a jigsaw puzzle and you had to put it all back together while trying not to piss yourself.

What the hell kind of game will this be?

What the hell is Toby even trying to do?

Toby’s grip on your arm tightened, and for a second, you thought he was going to snap it like a twig. He dug his fingers into your skin, the pressure like a vice, and then—without warning—he shoved you to the ground. 

The earth was cold, hard, and unwelcoming, and your knees hit it with a sickening thud. You gasped, trying to push yourself up, but no dice. Toby was already on top of you, like a bad dream you couldn’t escape from.

You barely had time to even process what was happening before his hands were all over you again—rough, unrelenting. He yanked your arms behind your back like he was trying to turn you into a pretzel, and the pain shot through your shoulders. 

You winced as the rope bit into your skin, tight and unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air, your wrists already burning. Every instinct screamed to fight, but your body was just… not cooperating. All you could do was brace yourself for whatever new hell Toby was planning to unleash.

Then, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, he yanked the half-undone cloth out of your mouth, like it was some kind of prize. The sudden rush of cold night air on your face hit you like a punch, and you nearly choked on the wind as you sucked in a desperate breath. 

Your chest burned as your lungs tried to catch up, and for a second, all you could do was breathe, focusing on just that—breathing. The shock of air hitting your lungs made everything feel a little too real like you had just woken up from a bad dream and had no idea where you were.

Toby stood over you, watching you like a damn predator, his eyes cold and calculating. He looked like he was enjoying every second of your struggle, his grin twisted into something that made your stomach turn. The silence between you two felt thick, almost suffocating, and with every second that passed, your heartbeat hammered louder in your chest. 

You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, that gut-deep dread clawing its way up your throat. Then, finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and rough, dripping with venom. “You wanted a game, right?” His grin stretched wider, almost too wide like he was relishing every second of your discomfort. “Here it is.”

Toby moved slowly like he was savoring the moment, circling you. The sound of his boots against the ground felt like a reminder that you were trapped—nowhere to run. When he finally came back around to face you, he crouched down, his face just inches from yours. 

The moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look even worse, like the shadows themselves were twisting his face into something monstrous. The light bent around his features, turning him into something almost unrecognizable like he wasn't even human anymore. 

Then, without warning, his hand shot forward, grabbing your chin with a grip that felt like iron. He jerked your head up, forcing you to look at him, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it hurt. You winced, a sickening shudder crawling up your spine as he held you there. 

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unblinking, and for a second, you thought you might just drown in them. He was too close—too close—and you could feel his breath on your face, the faint smell of smoke mixed with something metallic, like blood, lingering in the air. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he hissed, his voice cold as ice, a warning in the way his eyes bore into yours, daring you to even try something. 

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, your pulse racing. You could feel the full weight of the situation now—whatever sick game he had in mind, you weren’t walking away from this easily.

Toby let out a sharp, breathy chuckle, tilting his head as he watched the fear settle into your bones. He was drinking it in, savoring it like a fine wine. His fingers twitched at his sides, restless, eager.

“The rules are simple,” he repeated, slower this time as if speaking to a child. “Cat chases mouse. Mouse runs. If the mouse is fast enough—” his voice lifted slightly, playful, mocking, “maybe it gets away.” He took a slow step forward, boots crunching against the dirt, his gaze never leaving yours.

“But if the mouse loses…” His grin stretched wider, a grotesque, gleeful thing that made your stomach churn. “Well—” He lifted his hand, thumb dragging across his throat in a slow, deliberate slice.

Your breath stilled.

“F-Fuckin’ simple, right?” Toby let out a sharp cackle, rocking back on his heels like this was the funniest thing in the world. “B-But, uh—here’s the fun part—” His voice dipped lower, almost conspiratorial. He leaned in slightly, just enough that you could catch the scent of blood and oil clinging to him. 

“I’m the cat, babe.” He tilted his head, his grin twitching at the edges.

“And you?” Toby reached and pulled something from behind his back, the glint of metal catching in the dim moonlight. You couldn’t help but stare as he brandished the hatchet, its blade sharp and gleaming—ready to cut down whatever stood in its way. 

“You’re the mouse.”

You closed your eyes as you felt something cold and sharp slid against your wrists, and suddenly, the ropes fell away. Your hands trembled as you realized what he’d done. 

He was letting you go.

The ropes fell away with a dull thud, and you flexed your fingers, the circulation rushing back into your hands with a painful sting. But before you could even take a breath, Toby stood up, towering over you, his cold eyes boring into yours.

“Run.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a taunt. It was a demand.

And you didn’t need him to tell you twice. You didn’t need to be told anything. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to run—to get the hell out of there before things got any worse. You pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t hesitate.

You took off into the woods, your feet pounding against the earth, heart racing, breath coming in sharp, frantic bursts. The trees blurred past you in the darkness, the dense underbrush grabbing at your legs as you pushed forward, not daring to look back. 

Behind you, you heard Toby’s voice cut through the silence like a razor, a countdown, slow and deliberate.

"Ten..."

The words hung in the air, each one a cold reminder of what was waiting for you.

"Nine..."

Your feet slipped in the dirt, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t afford to. Not when your life depended on it.

"Eight..."

The rustling of the trees, the soft whisper of the wind, it all felt like a trap. The woods were alive, closing in around you, the darkness suffocating. But you pushed on, adrenaline giving you the strength to run faster than you ever thought possible.

"Seven..."

Your pulse hammered in your ears, drowning out the sound of your surroundings. You couldn’t think about the shadows that moved just beyond the corner of your vision. You couldn’t think about the suffocating fear creeping up your spine.

"Six..."

The air was thick with the scent of earth and pine, but all you could taste was the bitter tang of panic in the back of your throat.

"Five..."

A sudden crack of a branch behind you made your heart jump into your throat. You didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t afford to.

"Four..."

The path ahead was unclear, but you kept running. You knew where the black van was, knew what it meant to get there. It was the only way out. It was the only chance you had.

"Three..."

You could hear him now, the heavy sound of Toby’s footsteps growing louder, closer. The rustle of leaves underfoot. The sharp sound of the hatchet slicing through the air.

"Two..."

The woods were a maze, but you didn’t care. You had no choice but to trust your instincts. Keep running. Keep going.

"One..."

The final countdown echoed in the night, the sharpness of the moment making your skin prickle. And just like that, the sound of Toby’s footsteps stopped.

For a moment, the woods fell into an eerie silence. You could feel the weight of the night pressing in, the darkness stretching out before you. You weren’t sure if Toby was still following, or if he had somehow disappeared into the shadows. But you didn’t dare stop to find out.

You kept running, faster now, your breath ragged, heart hammering in your chest. 

You had to make it. 

You had to survive.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins was enough to keep you moving, but Toby was right on your heels. You could hear him getting closer, his heavy footsteps pounding the ground as he pursued you. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to stay ahead.

Suddenly, you felt a cold breeze sweep past your ear, and a horrifying whoosh followed by a sharp, metallic slice through the air. Toby’s hatchet missed you by inches, but the force of it scared the hell out of you, causing you to stumble.

Without thinking, you darted sideways, narrowly avoiding the swing of the blade as Toby's arm cut through the air where you had just been. Your heart skipped a beat, terror coiling in your gut.

But it was enough. You had a moment—a split second of reprieve.

Instinct kicked in.

You pushed yourself forward, launching yourself into a desperate sprint, but as you did, you pivoted, whirling around and slamming your fist right into Toby’s face. 

His head snapped back with the force of your punch, and you could hear the sickening crunch as his mouth guard went flying off. Blood sprayed from his lips as he staggered back, spitting out crimson between ragged breaths.

“Shit!” you hissed, realizing you might have just made a serious mistake. 

You didn't wait to see his next move. You turned and ran, faster than ever, knowing that you couldn’t let him catch up again. Thank God your parents forced you into sports when you were younger. You needed that conditioning now more than ever, every muscle screaming as you pushed yourself harder through the thick underbrush of the forest.

But just as you thought you might have a chance to escape, you felt something like a vice grip on the back of your head. A hand twisted into your hair, jerking you backward with brutal force.

“Ah, playing dirty, huh?” Toby’s voice was a low, mocking growl in your ear as he yanked you back, his breath hot against your skin. “You think you’re faster than me? You think you’re clever?”

You struggled, but his grip on your hair was unrelenting, a fistful of pain and control that yanked your head back until you were nearly off balance. You let out a strangled gasp, trying to push him off, but his laugh sent chills crawling up your spine.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed, dragging you further away from where you had been running. “You’re playing dirty, but I don’t mind. I like a girl who can fight back.”

“Sweet Cheeks, Pretty Girl,” he teased, his voice sickly sweet as his hand moved from your hair to your shoulder, the grip tightening as if he were savoring every second of this. “I can’t get enough of you.” His breath stank and you recoiled, but before you could react, he shoved you down to the ground. 

Then your lungs burned as you gasped for air, and you suddenly felt the crushing weight of Toby pressing you deeper into the forest floor. The damp earth clung to your skin, its scent thick and suffocating. You twisted beneath him, your muscles straining as you tried to break free, but it was useless. He was stronger, faster, and, worst of all, he had planned this.

Toby let out a sharp, breathy laugh, the sound laced with something sickeningly satisfied. His grip on your wrists was vice-like, his fingers pressing so hard into your skin you could feel the dull throb of your pulse against them.

“Y’know, you actually did pretty well,” he murmured, his voice low, amused—like he was humoring you. “But, uh—” His knee pressed harder into your ribs, knocking the breath right out of you. “Not good enough.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the rustling trees, the distant chirp of insects—everything except him.

You bucked your body, jerking against his grip, but Toby barely flinched. If anything, he enjoyed it. He tsked softly, shifting just enough to slide one hand up to your throat, his fingers curling around the delicate skin. He wasn’t squeezing—not yet—but the threat was clear.

“You really thought you could outrun me?” His voice dipped lower, the words edged with a dark amusement. “Me?”

His breathing was steady, almost too calm for someone who had just chased you down like a damn animal. His thumb brushed idly against your pulse, feeling how it hammered beneath his touch, drinking in every ounce of fear rolling off of you in waves.

“You should’ve known better,” he purred, his face lowering until his masked mouth was mere inches from your ear. “B-but, hey! No hard feelings, right?”

He tilted his head, his grip tightening just enough to remind you that, even now, he controlled everything.

“After all…” His voice was almost playful, but the sadistic edge beneath it made your stomach twist. “Game’s over.”

Your breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, every fiber of your being screaming at you to fight—to do something—but his grip was unrelenting, his presence suffocating. Toby had you right where he wanted you, and he fucking loved it.

The smirk on his face was infuriating, smug, and teasing like he was just toying with you, seeing how far he could push before you broke.

“Now thinking about it, you’re just like the rest of them,” he taunted, voice dripping with mock disappointment. “Man, and here I thought you were better.”

Wait. He thought you were better?

No. No, fuck that.

Rage boiled up, cutting through the fear clawing at your throat. You grit your teeth, something sharp and bitter twisting in your chest. Your body burned with frustration, your muscles aching from the struggle, but you weren’t about to just lay down and take this.

Toby’s fingers skimmed along your skin again, and something in you snapped.

“Get the fuck off me!” you snarled, your voice raw with fury. You thrashed, your body surging against his hold, but he only laughed, his grip tightening, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Oh-ho,” he hummed, tilting his head like a curious animal, his grin splitting wider. “There she is.”

His voice was dark, teasing, but there was something else there, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

You sucked in a breath, eyes blazing as you glared up at him. “I am not some fucking plaything,” you spat, fury twisting your features. “And I sure as hell am not like the rest of them.”

Toby let out a sharp breath of laughter, shaking his head. “Really? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting—” He pressed down harder, just enough to remind you who was in control. “You look pretty helpless to me.”

You bit down the growl rising in your throat, every muscle in your body coiled tight with frustration. His smugness was unbearable, his amusement dripping from every word like venom.

Then he sighed, like this was all some mild inconvenience. “Shame, really,” he mused, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “I actually liked you. Thought you were… different.” His fingers brushed your cheek, deceptively gentle, and your stomach churned with disgust.

That did it.

You jerked your head back violently, breaking free of his touch. Your voice came out like a hiss, venomous and sharp. 

“Fuck you, Toby.”

His grin widened, eyes sparking with something wild and hungry. “Ohh,” he drawled, his tone downright delighted. “Now that’s more like it.” Toby’s lips curled into a smirk as his eyes gleamed with something far from kind. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“You just gave me a great idea.” His words dripped with mischief, the kind that made you question your reality. His gaze never wavered, almost as if he were savoring the moment, letting the silence stretch between you like a taut wire.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he added, though the way he said it, with a tone that was too casual, was anything but reassuring. He leaned in closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

"I’m just gonna fuck you."

Your mind went blank, the shock of his words leaving you speechless. You blinked, trying to wrap your head around what he just said. “Wait… what did you just say?” you stammered, your voice shaky. “You… you’re gonna what?” 

This couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of joke, some twisted misunderstanding. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

Toby raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts amused and condescending. His expression was one of exaggerated confusion, as if you were the one being unreasonable as if you were the one who had missed something obvious. 

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. It was as if he were toying with you, enjoying the way your confusion only seemed to fuel his confidence.

Then, without warning, he bit his lower lip, a playful gesture that felt completely out of place given the tension in the air. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, and his voice dropped to a low, almost teasing whisper. 

“I said... fuck you.” 

The words hit you like a slap to the face, delivered with such casual confidence that it left you reeling. It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you as if he knew exactly how much power he held at that moment.

You swallowed, your mouth dry. His words were a sickening blend of challenge and threat, and you weren’t sure if you should be terrified—or curious.

Toby leaned in even closer, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He was close enough for you to feel the weight of his presence, heavy and undeniable.

“Let’s see if you can last,” he said, his voice thick with an unsettling promise.

The situation you found yourself in was far more dangerous and complicated than you had ever anticipated. The air was thick with tension, a mix of fear, desire, and something darker you couldn’t quite name. You were in deep—way deeper than you had ever imagined you’d be. And yet, despite the danger, even though you should have been screaming for help or fighting back, you weren’t. 

A part of you wasn’t complaining at all. Was that wrong? Maybe. 

But this wasn’t your first time with him, and that twisted familiarity made the situation feel almost… thrilling.

His lips were on yours again, rough and demanding, moving with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his body pressing against you, his hands roaming freely, gripping and pulling at your skin like he owned you. And maybe, in some twisted way, he did. He had always been possessive, hadn’t he? 

From the moment he stole your underwear, to the way he seemed to always know where you were—stalkerish tendencies that should have sent you running. But here you were, letting him manhandle you, letting him take control.

The forest floor was cold and unforgiving beneath your knees, the damp earth seeping into your skin as he forced you down. His hands were tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he pushed himself into your mouth, his cock sliding deep, almost to the back of your throat. 

You gagged, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you looked up at him, your vision blurred but still able to make out the expression on his face. It wasn’t the usual cocky smirk you were used to seeing. No, this time it was different—softer, almost guilty like he knew exactly how wrong this was but couldn’t help himself.

“F-Fuck…” he groaned, his voice low and strained, his hips moving rhythmically as he used your mouth for his pleasure. 

You could feel every inch of him, the way his cock hit the back of your throat, the way his hands tightened in your hair, pulling just enough to make you whimper. It was overwhelming, the mix of pain and pleasure, the way your body reacted to him despite the danger. 

You were choking, struggling to breathe, but there was a part of you that didn’t want it to stop. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment. Or maybe it was the way his touch, rough as it was, still sent sparks of electricity through your body.

The tears welled up in your eyes, glistening like fragile crystals before they spilled over, tracing delicate paths down your flushed cheeks. You kept your gaze locked on him, your lips stretched wide around him, your throat flexing and contracting as you struggled to take him deeper, to accommodate the fullness of him. 

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of suffocation and surrender, as your body fought to adjust to his presence. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, each hitch and gasp betraying the intensity of his pleasure. His hands, strong and possessive, gripped you tighter, fingers digging into your skin as if to anchor himself in the moment, to ensure you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to try this,” Toby groaned, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. His hips shifted, pushing himself deeper, and you choked slightly, tears streaming faster as your throat worked to take him. “God, your mouth—shit, it’s even better than I thought.” He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you with a firmness that left no room for hesitation. 

“Should’ve done this at the frat party. Hell, I should’ve skipped the whole damn mission and just fucked you instead. Would’ve been way more fun.”His words sent a jolt through you, a mix of humiliation and something darker, something that made your stomach twist and your pulse race. 

You tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, holding you in place. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone playful but edged with something sharper. “You’re not going anywhere. Not when you’re doing such a good job.” His hips rolled again, and you gagged, your nails digging into his thighs as you fought to keep up. “Yeah, just like that. Take it. You’re gonna swallow every damn drop.”

And you? You were suspended in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a storm of fear and exhilaration that left you trembling. There was danger in this—danger in the way he loomed over you, in the way his control felt absolute, in the way your body was being used for his pleasure. It was wrong, you knew that, and yet the thrill of it was undeniable. 

The powerlessness, the vulnerability, the sheer audacity of what you were doing—it was intoxicating. Your mind raced, torn between the instinct to resist and the dark, forbidden desire to give in completely.

He was lost in the moment, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. The playfulness that had been there earlier—the teasing, the testing of limits—had given way to something raw and unrestrained. He was no longer holding back, and you could feel it in the way he thrust deeper, in the way his grip on you tightened almost painfully. It was as if he had crossed some invisible line, surrendering to the heat of the moment, to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Damn, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice strained, his breathing uneven. “Should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve had you on your knees for me every damn night.” His words were crude, almost careless, but they sent a shiver down your spine. 

And when he finally released, it was with a guttural groan that seemed to come from the very depths of him. His release was hot and insistent, flooding your mouth, and you had no choice but to swallow, to take all of him in. 

Toby’s laughter rang in your ears, a low, satisfied hum that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, deceptively gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Good job, pretty,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, thick with something smug. “Knew you had it in you.”  

You barely had a second to process the praise before his grip shifted, hands curling around your wrists as he yanked you forward, dragging you off your knees with an ease that made your stomach twist.  

“I’m sooo lucky my buddies in there didn’t put a bullet in you,” he mused, his tone lighthearted, almost playful—like he was joking. But the way his fingers tightened around your wrist? 

That was anything but a joke.  

“For real,” he continued, grinning as he spun you around, shoving you back against the nearest tree. “They don’t like loose ends.”  

The impact sent a rough jolt through your spine, the bark biting into your skin as Toby moved in closer, eliminating any space you might’ve used to slip away. His body radiated heat, wild energy rolling off him in waves as he caged you in, arms braced on either side of your head.  

His brown eyes flickered, sharp and unreadable, scanning your face like he was drinking in every flicker of emotion—every sharp breath, every slight tremor. Amusement curled in the corners of his lips, but there was something else lurking beneath it. Something darker. Something he wasn’t saying.  

Still, he kept the act up, tilting his head with a dramatic pout. “Aw, don’t look so tense,” he teased, his voice lilting, full of that familiar, chaotic charm. “I didn’t let ‘em kill you, did I? Kinda sweet of me, if you think about it.”  

His fingers ghosted over your hip, a barely-there touch that sent sparks shooting up your spine. “Could’ve been long gone by now,” he went on, his voice dipping lower, smoother. “Next town, few states down, fresh start. But nah.”  

His grin faded, just a little, and somehow, that made your pulse quicken even more.  

“Truth is, I didn’t wanna leave you.”  

The weight of those words settled between you, heavy and certain, laced with something Toby wasn’t quite willing to admit outright. Instead, he let the silence stretch, watching the way you swallowed hard, the way your breath hitched just enough for him to notice. His lips curled into that smirk that drove you insane. "I’m a little sentimental, y’know? Didn’t really wanna see you go out like that.”  

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your pulse spiked at his words. “Oh, so I should be thanking you?”  

He tilted his head as if considering it. “Yeah, actually. A lil’ gratitude wouldn’t hurt.” His fingers ghosted over your waist before gripping your hip, holding you there. 

You swallowed hard. “That’s funny. ‘Cause all I remember is you disappearing and turning me into some kind of ghost-hunting idiot trying to track you down.”  

His smirk returned, sharp as ever. “C’mon, you liked the chase.” His free hand reached up, brushing a stray hair from your face before tracing the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate. “Knew you’d miss me, too. And even if you didn’t—” He pulled back just enough to reach into his pocket, fishing out his phone. With a flick, he brought up the messages.   

“Remind me who kept opening my texts, huh?” 

Your stomach twisted. Shit.  

Toby’s lips curled into something smug, something hungry as he kissed you—slow and deliberate like he was savoring the way you tensed beneath him. His grip on your wrists loosened just enough to let them fall, giving you the briefest moment of freedom before he took hold of something else—your leather jacket.  

His fingers curled around the fabric, tugging it away from your shoulders with an ease that sent a chill creeping down your spine. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. There was something almost methodical in the way he worked, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your waist.  

“Don’t act like you didn’t want me to find you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His lips hovered near your face, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Then he chuckled, soft but knowing, like he was in on a secret you weren’t ready to admit.  

“I’ve been watchin’, babe.”  

Your breath hitched.  

“Kinda cute, honestly. You goin’ about your lil’ college life, actin’ like you ain’t got me in the back of your head.”  

His hands slid higher, trailing over your ribs, up to your chest—slow, teasing, like he was memorizing every inch of you with his touch alone. His thumbs brushed the underside of your tits, a deliberate squeeze following the motion, like he was testing just how much he could get away with.  

That snapped you out of it.  

You grit your teeth, shoving at his chest, trying to push him off. But he barely budged.  

If anything, the struggle just seemed to amuse him.  

His knee slotted between your legs, pressing just enough to keep you still, just enough to make it clear who was in control here. His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was still calling the shots.  

“But now I’m here,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. That wild, unpredictable edge still lurked beneath the surface, simmering just beneath the cocky smirk he wore. “And I gotta ask…” He leaned in, so close you could feel his words against your lips.

“You still think you can run?”  

Toby hummed against your skin, his lips dragging along your jaw before pressing open-mouthed kisses up to your ear. His breath was warm, teasing, each word dripping with smug amusement as he whispered, “…Fuck, you smell good, y’know that?” His nose brushed against your neck as he inhaled, slow and deep, like he was trying to commit your scent to memory. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for weeks.”  

His hands didn’t stop moving, fingers sliding up, grazing your bare skin under your shirt, feeling you—possessive, yet unhurried. He squeezed your tits again, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, like he was testing your reaction.  

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.  

Toby just laughed, his lips pressing against your pulse, right where he’d left those marks last time. His tongue flicked out, just enough to send a shiver through you, before he sank his teeth in, nipping at the already-sensitive skin.  

“Mm, nah,” he murmured, voice muffled against your throat, “bet this wasn’t enough for you either, huh? You were feelin’ it, weren’t you?” Another bite, sharper this time, as if to prove his point. “Bet you were touchin’ these, thinkin’ about me.”  

Your breath hitched. “Fuck off.”  

Toby grinned against your skin. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t start lyin’ to me now.” He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own flickering with something dark, something utterly pleased with himself. “You wanna know why I sent those messages? Why I didn’t just let you go?”  

You swallowed hard, saying nothing.  

He kissed you again, deep and slow, before pulling back just enough to speak.  

“Your panties weren’t enough.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Had ‘em for weeks, babe, but it wasn’t doin’ it for me. I thought it would, y’know? Thought maybe I’d get you outta my system, maybe I’d move on…” He tilted his head, watching your reaction closely. “But nah. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”  

Toby’s fingers dug in just a little, his touch becoming firmer, more demanding.  

“Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then back down to your neck, inhaling deeply as he did. “Every time I touched myself, it wasn’t enough.”  

Your breath stuttered, but he only grinned, eating up every reaction.  

“So, I figured… why the hell would I leave?” Toby leaned in again, his nose brushing yours, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “Why would I go when I could just… take you with me?”

Your thoughts were spiraling, torn between the weight of what he was saying and the undeniable pull of him—of this.  

Leaving town? Leaving everything behind? Your classes, your plans, your family? What would you even become? Some run away, tangled up in Toby’s mess? A ghost of who you were, trailing after a killer with no real future? The idea sent a sharp pang through your chest.  

But then again… what the hell were you planning to do after finding him?  

Because, deep down, you knew. Toby was right. You liked the chase. The obsession. The thrill of it all.  

You had no clue what came next.  

But before the panic could take hold, before you could wrestle with the consequences of what he was offering—what he was taking—Toby’s lips crashed into yours again, drowning you in the taste of him. It was rough, and consuming, leaving no space for doubt.  

The world around you blurred into a haze of sensation and sound as Toby’s hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Your back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, the jagged edges scraping against your skin, but the discomfort was a distant echo compared to the heat of his body against yours. 

His strength was undeniable, his movements deliberate and commanding as he pinned you in place, leaving no room for escape—not that you wanted to. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, your body betraying the conflict in your mind.

His fingers moved with practiced ease, unbuttoning your shorts and yanking them down along with your tights and panties in one fluid motion. The cold air nipped at your exposed skin, sending a shiver through you, but it was quickly replaced by the searing heat of his body as he pressed into you, his weight anchoring you against the tree. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, his voice low and dripping with a dangerous charm.

“Y’know,” he mused, his hands sliding up your thighs, his touch both teasing and possessive, “you think too much, babe.” His fingers dug into your skin, pushing your legs apart just enough to make you gasp. 

“You’re sittin’ here, goin’ back and forth about leavin’—what, you think you got a real shot at normal?” He laughed a dark, throaty sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “C’mon. You came lookin’ for me. You wanted this.”

His words were a challenge, a reminder of the choices you’d made, the line you’d crossed when you sought him out. There was no going back now, and deep down, you knew it. His grip tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as if to imprint himself on you, to mark you as his. 

“You don’t need to think, baby,” he murmured his voice a low growl that vibrated through you. “I’ll make the choice for you.”

And then he was inside you, his cock stretching you, filling you completely, his movements rough and unrelenting, each thrust driving you harder against the tree. The bark scraped and bit into your back, a sharp contrast to the searing heat of his body pressing into yours. But the pain only amplified the pleasure, the intensity of it all making your head spin. 

Toby’s hands gripped your ass, lifting you slightly to meet him, his rhythm relentless, each stroke deeper, harder, more demanding. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, his forehead pressed against yours as he stared into your eyes, his gaze dark, unyielding, and utterly consuming.

“This is it, babe,” he panted, his voice thick with desire and something darker, something primal. “This is the life. No rules, no chains, just you and me and the open road. My buddies, they’ll take care of you too. We’ll keep you safe, keep you close. You’ll never wanna go back to that boring shit you called a life.”

His words were intoxicating, a dangerous promise that wrapped around you like a vice. But before you could even process them, his lips were on your neck, teeth sinking into your skin with a possessive hunger that made you gasp. 

The sharp sting of his bite sent a jolt of electricity through you, your body arching against his as he sucked and nipped at your flesh, marking you as his. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he held you in place, his thrusts growing more urgent, more desperate.

Then his hand slid up, his fingers wrapping around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch, your pulse racing under his touch. He loved the way you looked at him, completely dazed, your lips parted, your eyes glazed with a mix of pleasure and submission. 

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he tightened his grip just slightly. “Look at you, takin’ me so good, beggin’ for more without even sayin’ a word.”

And you were. 

You were begging, your body trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, your hips rocking against his, desperate for more. The way he controlled you, the way he owned you at that moment, it was overwhelming, intoxicating. His hand on your throat, his teeth on your skin, his cock buried deep inside you—it was too much, and yet you never wanted it to end.

“Please,” you finally gasped, the word slipping out before you could stop it, your voice shaky, broken. “More, Toby, please…”

He smirked, “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. You could feel yourself being pulled deeper into his world, into the chaos and the thrill of it all. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you tightly as he thrust harder, his pace becoming almost frantic. 

The sound of skin against skin, the feel of his body against yours, the way he filled you completely—it was overwhelming, consuming.

His breath was hot against your lips, the scent of sweat and something darker—something possessive—coiling between you like a silent promise. His hands gripped your hips, his body pressing you so deep into the mattress that it almost felt like he wanted to fuse you into it, to make sure you’d never leave.  

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, voice rough and uneven, the words bleeding into a growl as he snapped his hips against you. His teeth grazed your jaw, your throat, a silent claim with every drag of his lips against your skin. “*Mine.* And I’m never lettin’ you go.”  

His pace turned brutal, driven by something animalistic—something desperate. The bed creaked beneath you, the room thick with the sound of skin against skin, his breaths ragged as he pushed you closer to the edge. His fingers wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to scare, but *just* enough to make your pulse hammer beneath his grip.  

Your vision blurred, pleasure winding tight in your core, your body shuddering beneath him as every thrust sent you spiraling higher. His grip tightened, his movements rougher, more erratic, until—  

Heat. Pressure. His body stiffening against yours as his release tore through him. He groaned low in his throat, his grip faltering as he collapsed against you, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven gasps. And with that final push, that last overwhelming wave, you followed—your body trembling, pleasure wracking through you in waves so intense they left you breathless.  

Toby didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just held you there, tangled in him, his face buried against the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin with every shaky breath. His arms curled around you, pulling you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’d slip away the second he let go.  

And for a moment, you let him believe it. Let him believe you were his. Completely. Utterly. That you had fallen.  

Well…  

At least, that’s what he thought.  

THWACK!  

A sickening crack split the air.  

Toby’s body jerked—then went completely still.  

His breath hitched in his throat, the pressure in his skull overwhelming, disorienting. His vision swam, the world tilting violently as he tried to move, tried to make sense of what just happened—  

But it was too late.  

Darkness crashed over him like a tidal wave, sudden and absolute, drowning out every thought, every breath, every sound.  

And just like that…  

Toby went limp.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, voices filtered in. Loud. Agitated. Familiar.

“What the fuck, Vidia? You knocked him out with a bat? A goddamn steel bat?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Would you have rather let him keep going?” Vidia’s voice snapped back, breathless and full of righteous fury. “Because from where I was standing, you were real into it. And excuse me for not wanting to sit front-row for your ‘feral woodland creature fucks a serial killer’ special! You were supposed to grab him, not let him rearrange your spine against a tree!”

A snort. Amused. Disbelieving. “I’m not tackling a grown-ass man while he’s mid-stroke,” Vidia deadpanned, and you could practically hear the eyeroll. “You broke our two rules. Watch your back. Don’t get caught. And what do you do? Stalk a serial killer just to let him dick you down again? God, you’re not just stupid—you’re horny and stupid.”

You groaned, rubbing the back of your head as you sat up. “Can you not make this a whole thing?”

“Oh no, we are absolutely making this a thing.” Vidia’s voice was sharp and dripping with mockery, her presence looming over you like a judge about to pass a particularly scathing sentence. “You always go for the same type. The rugged, white boy rejects who aren’t even that cute.”

“First of all—shut the hell up,” you shot back, still breathless, still recovering from the sheer whiplash of events. “Second, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Vidia said smugly, crouching beside you with an infuriating smirk. “You, my dear dumbass, are the worst decision-maker I have ever met. If your dumb choices were spells, I’d be throwing counter-charms every damn day.”

You gave her a flat look. “If my bad decisions were spells, you’d be out of fucking eye of newt by now.”

“And mandrake root,” she added, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, looking over at Toby’s unconscious body. He was completely knocked out, his body slumped in the dirt, mouth slightly open like a damn idiot. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jesus indeed.” Vidia clapped her hands together, standing up. “So what’s the move, genius? Because from where I’m standing, it’s definitely not a hit-and-run anymore.” She nudged Toby’s foot with her boot. “Y’know, since you got dicked down and all.”

You shot her a glare. “Can we stop talking about that?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” She grinned wider. “I will be bringing this up at every possible opportunity.”

Suddenly, Toby’s eyelids fluttered, head still throbbing as reality rushed back to him. His limbs felt weird—weighted, restricted. His back pressed against something rough and solid. Slowly, blinking through the harsh glare of car headlights, his vision adjusted.  

The first thing he saw?  

You.  

Still looking disheveled from before, your clothes hastily adjusted, but the evidence of what happened still lingered. Skin marked up, lips swollen, posture tense. You were standing next to a woman he didn’t recognize.  

Toby’s gaze flicked to her—Vidia, was it?  

Off-shoulder black long-sleeve top, purple maxi skirt swaying slightly as she shifted her weight, platform boots clicking against the pavement. Silver charms dangled in her hair, her twists framing her face in a way that made her annoyance look downright beautiful as well.  

And then he realized—  

His arms were tied up.

His expression darkened instantly, muscles tensing as he tugged against whatever was binding his wrists. “Oh, what the fuck?” His voice was rough, thick with irritation and leftover exhaustion.  

Your head snapped toward him just as Vidia rolled her eyes. “Great, sleeping beauty’s awake.”  

Toby’s lip curled into a smirk, eyes narrowing as he took both of you in. “Is this some freaky-ass threesome? ‘Cause, not gonna lie, this is not how I pictured it.”  

Vidia made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Yeah, right.” She turned on her heel and started toward the car, shaking her head. “You better handle your little problem before I do, bitch.”  

“Bet, I will.” You mumbled.

Toby’s gaze flicked back to you, the smirk never quite leaving his lips. His head still ached, and he was pissed about being restrained, but goddamn—if this wasn’t interesting. He flexed his fingers, testing the restraints again, but damn, whoever tied him up actually knew what they were doing. His head still pounded from the bat-to-the-skull special, but his focus was locked on you—your nonchalant stance, the way you checked your phone like this was just another Wednesday night.

“Well, well, babe,” he drawled, voice still hoarse but laced with amusement. “Looks like you got some explaining to do.”

You barely glanced at him before flipping your phone screen toward him.

Vidia Location, next to yours.

Toby’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh shit, I should’ve taken your phone, I mean that’s… uh, cute? Kinda stalker-ish, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one to talk about stalking here, Rogers,” you deadpanned. “Besides, Vidia and I have a system. I take action, she’s the cleanup crew. Like an efficient crime duo, except, y’know, college edition.”

Toby blinked, his smirk faltering just a bit. “Wait—hold the fuck on. How do you know my last name?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a thick folder, the edges worn like it had been flipped through more than once. You gave it a little shake, then let it fall open in your hands. The top page, in clear bold letters:

Tobias Erin ‘Toby’ Rogers

Also known as Ticci-Toby.

Toby’s stomach did a weird flip. Not fear—more like… baffled amusement. His eyes flicked from the file back to your smug little expression.

“Oh, no fucking way—”

“Oh, yes fucking way,” you cut him off, grinning as you flipped through the pages. “Shoutout to Vidia for this one. I told her about the creepy as fuck messages you were sending, and, well—turns out she’s kinda better at stalking than you are.”

Vidia, shouted and gave a lazy salute. “What can I say? I get bored.”

Toby stared, “You dug me up? Like, what—a full government background check? Social Security number, too? Jesus.”

You ignored him, scanning the file. “Mmm… childhood trauma, big surprise there… oh, look at that, arson! Fun stuff, love the classics—ah! Here we go.” You tapped the paper, eyes flicking up to him. “Nowadays, selling drugs for extra cash, and—oof, killing the buyer at the end if they don’t pay up. Real entrepreneur behavior.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “C’mon, it’s not that simple—”

“Frat boys disagree,” you sing-songed, tilting your head. “They told me all about you. How your prices just magically kept going up. That’s how I figured out where to find you, by the way. So, really, you played yourself.”

Toby groaned, tilting his head back. “God, I hate frat dudes.”

Vidia snickered out loud. “Bro, you literally sell to them.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather kill them than talk to them.”

You smirked, snapping the file shut. “Guess that plan backfired, huh?”

Toby squinted at you, his smirk creeping back. “Yeah, okay, sure, whatever, you got me. But, uh—r-remind me again why you went through all this trouble? ‘Cause, like… not that I mind being stalked, but this is kinda giving crazy ex-girlfriend vibes.”

You clicked your tongue, stepping closer. “Because I was curious, Toby.”

He raised a brow, eyes gleaming as you leaned in.

“And,” you whispered, tapping his nose with your finger, “because I kinda like the chase.”

Toby inhaled sharply, and for the first time since waking up tied to a chair in a fucking parking lot, he actually felt a flicker of something close to thrill.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured, voice low, “aren’t you just full of surprises, babe.”

You shrugged, shoving your phone back in your pocket. “Boring-ass college town, might as well have some fun. Ruining dudes’ lives is kinda our extracurricular.”

Toby blinked. “You are so much worse than me, holy shit.”

Before he could argue further, the crunch of boots against gravel turned both your heads.

Vidia strolled back into the headlights’ glow, carrying a very concerning red gasoline canister in one hand and adjusting her leather gloves with the other. Her expression was deeply unbothered.

“Aight,” she said, tilting her head toward you, “so we killing him, or what?”

Toby choked on the air. “EX-FUCKING-SCUSE ME?”

You turned to Vidia, looking genuinely confused. “What? No? Who said anything about killing him? You always want to kill a dude after we are done.”

“Aww…” Vidia gestured lazily with the gasoline can. “I mean… it kinda felt like that was where we were going.”

Toby was fully invested in survival mode now, eyes darting between you and your disturbingly nonchalant roommate. “Okay, real quick, let’s all agree that murder? Not the move here. Like, I get it, I’m an asshole, I stalked you, I may or may not have terrorized a few people—”

“Understatement,” Vidia muttered.

“—BUT,” Toby pressed on, “if I suddenly go missing? That’s a huge problem for you.”

You folded your arms. “And why’s that?”

Toby’s smirk returned, though there was a flicker of actual warning in his eyes. “Because of my buddies—Kate, Brian, Tim? Yeah, they kinda like me. If I don’t come back, they will come looking. And trust me, babe, you don’t wanna be on their radar.”

Vidia exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes as she very slowly put the gasoline down. “All right, fine. You got a point.”

Toby let out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God—”

“But now what?” Vidia cut in, turning back to you. “Because this ain’t a hit-and-run anymore. We just kidnapped a dude, roughed him up, and now we’re in a very awkward hostage situation. So what’s the plan, genius?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think.

Toby, still tied up, still half-dazed from the bat, muttered, “Oh, I hate where this is going.” He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “All right, babe, you gonna torture me? Maybe have your girl over there cut me up while you monologue about how you ‘won’?”

Vidia scoffed, adjusting the leather gloves on her hands. “Dude, I don’t have the patience for torture. And I don’t monologue—that’s her thing.”

You shot her a look, but she wasn’t wrong.

Toby watched the exchange, eyes flicking between you both before he spoke again. “Right, well. If y’all aren’t gonna kill me, what is the move here? ‘Cause lemme tell ya, leaving me alive? Probably not the smartest idea.”

You shrugged. “Never said we were smart.”

Vidia sighed, stepping up beside you. “Listen, I’m all for ruining men’s lives—”

“—she really is,” you muttered.

“—but,” she continued, “this is not just some dude. This is a serial killer with, like, friends in the business. Friends who will notice if he goes missing.” She jerked a thumb toward Toby. “And if we kill him, that’s just extra work for me.”

Toby grinned. “So, I live? That’s sweet of you.”

Vidia gave him the driest look imaginable. “Not what I said.”

You sighed, tapping your chin. This had started as just a game—track down the dangerous guy who thought he was in control, flip the script, and then… well. You hadn’t exactly thought past this part.

Dipping town with Toby? Leaving everything behind—college, your boring little life, your hard-earned reputation? That was a huge fucking leap. But at the same time, what else was there? You didn’t have a grand plan for your future. The closest thing you had to excitement was this—and the fact that you didn’t know what came next? Kinda thrilling.

You glanced down at Toby, who was watching you like he could see those gears turning in your head. His smirk was lazy, but there was something sharp in his eyes.

“Y’know, babe,” he murmured, voice dropping low, “I could help you figure it out.”

Your lips parted, but before you could speak—

“Absolutely not,” Vidia cut in, glaring at you. “Do not get wrapped up in this shit.”

Toby raised a brow. “Damn, you don’t trust your bestie to handle herself?”

“Oh, I do—I just don’t trust you to not be a psychotic little gremlin who drags her into some fucked-up murder cult.”

Toby made a face. “Wow. Hurtful.”

“Good.” Vidia sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. New plan—we leave, he stays, and we pretend this never happened.”

Toby scoffed. “Yeah, like I’ll just let you walk away after all this.”

Vidia narrowed her eyes. “What are you gonna do, Rogers? Bark at us? Jitter threateningly?”

Toby’s smirk widened. “You are kinda funny. I get why she keeps you around.”

You bit back a laugh, and Vidia shot you a betrayed look. “Don’t encourage him.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms. “You did hit him in the head with a bat. I feel like we gotta let him have at least one-joke.”

Toby tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Y’know, babe, I’m real tempted to like you.”

“Yeah?” You leaned in just a little. “Then maybe you should prove it.”

His grin turned downright feral.

Vidia groaned. “Oh my god. I hate you both.” She turned her head to see the horizon was bleeding into a dull shade of orange, morning creeping over the city like a nosy neighbor. The distant hum of patrol cars still echoed through the streets, their searchlights carving through alleyways and abandoned lots. 

They were looking for someone like him, no doubt. 

Toby Rogers, Ticci-Toby, the boogeyman with a shit-eating grin. And yet, here he was, tied up, smirking like he held all the cards.

"Y'know, babe," he started, voice lazy, teasing, "technically, I'm supposed to kill you for all this."

You tilted your head, unconcerned. "Technically, you already tried to kill me once, and look where that got you."

Vidia snorted, arms crossed. "Yeah, tied up like a dumbass."

Toby just grinned wider. "See, that's exactly why you two should join us."

Your brows raised. "Join?"

"Yeah. I mean, you did hunt me down, crack me over the head, and nearly set me on fire," Toby said casually. "And, uh—no offense, but most people who try that shit end up dead."

Vidia scoffed. "Most people aren't us."

"Exactly," he said smoothly. "That’s why I’m offering—we could use people like you. Well, I could, at least." He glanced at you, then at Vidia. "You? Sharp, quick thinker. A little impulsive, but I dig it. And her?" He nodded toward Vidia. "Efficient as hell. Probably smarter than half the guys I work with."

Vidia rolled her eyes. "That’s a low bar."

Toby ignored that, his grin never faltering. "Look, there's only one chick in the group right now, and honestly? You two would be a perfect fit."

You and Vidia exchanged a look.

Vidia squinted at him. "Wait… you mean that same chick that deadass almost choked her out?" She jabbed a thumb toward you.

You sighed. "Yep. That's the one."

Vidia blinked. "Kate?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, no. Hard pass."

Toby laughed. "Okay, in her defense, she's a little on edge. But hey—she's got her quirks."

"Quirks?" Vidia repeated flatly. "Dude, she's scared of the flashlight on my phone."

Toby blinked. "…Oh. Yeah. She does hate that thing." He thought for a second, then shrugged. "Anyway, my bad about the whole choking thing. If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell Tim you guys are off-limits."

"Tim?" Vidia echoed. "And what? Do you think we're just gonna sign up for murder club? Like, 'Oh wow, what a great opportunity, where do we apply?'"

Toby smirked. "Hey, I get it. Big decision. Life-changing and all that. But let's be real—it's not like you guys got some grand future lined up. You're already playing with fire. Why not burn something down?"

You inhaled deeply, considering. It was a tempting offer.

A little murder. A little chaos. A little more of this.

Vidia sighed, rubbing her temple. "This is a terrible idea."

Toby grinned. "But you’re considering it, aren’t you?"

You exhaled through your nose, looking up at the sky. The night was fading, the real world creeping back in. But standing here, with Toby still tied up and grinning like a madman, with Vidia beside you rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out—

You were starting to think… maybe the real world wasn’t where you belonged.

At the end of the day?

It was a hit or run.

[rainrot4me]

Is it weird to say I wanna treat Brian/Hoodie all gently even though I've read your fics of him and how rough and mean he is /lh.. how would your interpretation of him even respond to that, gentle affection and intimate touch that ISN'T filled with a need to get off, just overall love and care for him.

✦ . jeff the killer

Jeff is used to violence. Roughness. Everything in his world is sharp. So when you sit beside him after a mission and slowly run your fingers through his tangled hair, it’s like tossing a match into a snowstorm.

“…You’re not scared of me?”

You kiss his temple. “Nope.”

“You’re weird.” But he leans in a little anyway.

He’s not sure how to process it at first. He might try to push you away with a crude joke, but the second you stop? He panics a little. Eventually, he starts pretending he doesn’t like it just to keep getting more.

✦ . ticci toby

Toby doesn’t do silence well—but you do. And when you pull him into a hug after a rough night, or press a cool cloth to his forehead after one of his tics flares up, he goes still. Like a wild animal caught in a muzzle.

“Why’re you alw-always so nice to me?”

“Because you deserve it, even when you think you don’t.”

He loves being babied when you do it sincerely. Praise and physical affection? Heaven. He may not say it, but he’ll bury his face in your shoulder and breathe in as if you’re the only grounding thing he has.

✦ . eyeless jack

He’s seen the worst of people—inside and out. The intimacy of medicine is constant for him. So when you clean his wounds, or cup his face despite the lack of eyes, it catches him off guard.

“You don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

“I know. Let me anyway.”

You’re one of the only people who can touch him without fear. He doesn’t always show emotion, but if you catch him resting his head on your lap while you hum softly, just know he’s melting on the inside.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim doesn’t like being seen—mask on or off. But when you trace the edges of his jaw, or hold him in the dark and whisper things like “I’m proud of you” or “You’re safe with me”, he cracks.

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You’re more than what you’ve done.”

He’ll deny needing it, but he’s touch-starved. Praise-starved. When you show up with a clean hoodie and hot coffee? His hands shake just a little. He’s not used to someone loving him without wanting something back.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Brian takes a long time to trust, and even longer to relax. You���d think he’d stiffen at affection—but once he does let you in? He melts under a gentle hand.

You massage his sore shoulders after missions. You patch him up, talk to him softly, and don’t push when he’s quiet. You don’t treat him like a monster. And that’s everything.

You kiss his hand.

He watches you for a long moment, then murmurs, “…You’re gonna ruin me.”

He returns the favor in small ways: your favorite drink left out for you, food prepped, the blanket already warmed in the dryer. Silently saying I love you too.

✦ . kate the chaser

Kate is always on edge. Aggressive, efficient, brutal in the field. But when you offer soft affection—stroking her hair after a fight, pressing kisses to her temple—she melts, privately.

“Don’t coddle me.”

“I’m not. I’m loving you.”

She’s quiet. She doesn’t pull away.

She won’t ask for care, but she needs it more than anyone. You helping her take off bloodied gear? Brushing dirt from her cheeks? Kissing her knuckles after battle? It calms her. Grounds her. And she’ll return the affection with a quiet kind of intensity that never wavers.

✦ . ben drowned

Ben doesn’t get it at first. He thinks you’re messing with him. When you rub soothing circles on his back or call him “sweetheart,” he short-circuits a little.

“You sure you meant to call me that?”

“You’re cuter than you think.”

“…You’re funny.”

Eventually, he becomes your shadow. He lays his head on your chest while you play games together, lets you fix his hair, and maybe even downloads stupid love songs because they remind him of you. (He’ll deny it.)

✦ . clockwork

Natalie is all sharp edges and guarded smirks, but she longs to be held gently. You touch her scars without flinching. You press kisses to her ticking eye like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“You’re too soft for this world.”

“And you’re softer than you pretend.”

She’ll roll her eyes, but her grip on your waist tightens. After the walls come down, she’ll initiate the affection more often—fiddling with your hair, curling into your side, letting you wash the blood from her hands.

✦ . laughing jack

At first? He’s amused. He calls your soft touch “precious” and acts like he’s above it. But when you clean his face after a messy job, and whisper “You don’t always have to be the entertainment,” it hits somewhere deep.

“You’re ridiculous. You know that?”

“So are you.”

He laughs, but this time, it’s soft.

He becomes fiercely protective of you. He doesn’t know how to say thank you, but you’ll wake up to gifts, sweets, and strange little doodles of you two dancing under stars.

✦ . slenderman

It’s hard to imagine being tender with something so ancient and inhuman—but you do. You rest your head against his chest despite the lack of a heartbeat. You touch his hand without fear.

“Your mind is too fragile for this bond.”

“Then let me break a little.”

He doesn’t show emotion the way others do—but he begins to respond. His tendrils wrap protectively around you at night. He communicates comfort through presence, warmth, and silent understanding. You become the only being who grounds him.

꩜ .ᐟ

[juceys]

oblivious jey uso

— based on this request : where you and jey exchange flirts and teases, leading up to trinitys big mouth telling jey about your crush on him.

pairing jey uso x fem!reader wc 2.9k+ genre fluff warnings explicit language not proofread note tysm @bratzzzdoll for this sweet request! hope it lives up to ur expectations :)

listened to i won’t say (i’m in love) from hercules, adore you by miley cyrus, into you by tamia ft. fabolous, paper rings by taylor swift

the locker room was buzzing with post-show adrenaline.

laughter bounced off the walls as people peeled off their gear, wiped away their makeup, and snacked on whatever was nearby. you were still unwrapping tape off your fingers when you heard a familiar voice coming from the now opened door.

“well hello there sexy lady.”

you don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies already beginning to flutter in your stomach. “starting off strong today, aren’t we?”

he made his way closer to you, ignoring the lighthearted groans and smirks from the others in the room. you were in a shared locker room with some other women and a few others that were part of your guys’s friend group.

“a gentleman starts off by complimenting his lady, baby,” he says, grinning as he leans on the vanity you sat at. “oh, so i’m your lady now?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile tugging at your lips.

“not yet… almost though. just you wait mama,” he says while taking your hand and unwrapping the rest of the tape for you.

trinity and jon both laughed at that. “get a room already!” cody shouted from a far bench.

others echoed him with groans and teasing comments, while you brush it off as you throw a hoodie on — his hoodie, actually, but they didn’t know that… besides jey himself.

“yall are like this every time,” sami groans with a smile on his face. “yall are practically married, y’know.”

you felt your body tense up at that — barely, but still. you played it off instantly, rolling your eyes at sami.

“nah, she’s just playin’ hard to get,” jey says, looking at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. “but that’s okay, i like a challenge,” receiving a chorus of “oohs” and approving hums from the others.

you arch a brow at him, “oh, do you now?”

“only if the prize is worth it mama.”

you feel your heart pounding out of your chest and you’re sure he could probably hear it. people would say you have the best poker face out of everyone, but your ears? oh, they’ll give you away every time. just like now, your bright red ears telling jey he’s got you where he wants you despite the unbothered look on your face.

“okay lovebirds — or whatever you are, it’s time to get going,” trinity groaned, taking your arm and walking ahead of the twins. “if we go home right now then we can catch love island as it streams, and i will be watching that on time today.”

trinity grabbed the keys from jon, telling him to ride with joshua so she can have girl time with you before having dinner together, like always. jon gave her a knowing look before catching up to josh — a look that said i know what you’re up to.

so now you’ve found yourself in the car with trinity, some slow r&b song playing as she drove to her house. it was a warm evening, the sky already painted pretty shades of pink and orange.

“you wanna tell me what that was all about?”

you look at her confused. “what d’you mean?”

“that whole thing back there,” she says, glancing at you. “i know yall always flirt and shit, but i saw how you damn near blushed to oblivion when he said you were almost his. and the way you froze when sami said yall are practically married.”

“i didn’t blush, and i didn’t freeze either,” you say, trying to play it off.

she raised a brow at you, not wanting to argue so she let you sit in your delusions. “yeah okay, sure.”

trinitys been your best friend since… forever. coming up through nxt together, you were there when she met jon which of course, led you to meeting joshua.

trin and jon have always hinted throughout the years that yall are exactly each others type, especially since josh has always maintained a flirty relationship with you. but you never told her the full truth.

you convinced yourself that being flirty is just who josh is. that his charm, the smirks, the teasing, the nicknames — none of it meant you were special.

after a beat of silence, you sighed. “he does that with everyone trin…”

“no babe, he does not,” trinity says, this time with a more serious look on her face rather than a teasing one.

“you think he goes around unwrapping other girls tape? bringing another girl something from catering because she’s “too lazy” to? letting them wear his hoodie?” she glanced at you again, “don’t think i don’t know that the hoodie you’re wearing is his.”

you stayed silent.

“i’ve known him long enough, maybe even too long to not know how he is. to know when he’s playing, and when he’s being real. and babe i’m telling you, that man looks at you like you’re his whole world. like you’re already his.”

you swallowed hard, heart skipping a beat.

“you really think so?”

“babe i know so,” she says, quickly turning to look at you with a serious expression.

then her tone softened. “so let me ask you this, how do you feel about him?”

you look down at the hoodie you’re in.

two nights ago, you were walking to your car about to leave his house when you felt a sudden breeze, making you shiver. without any hesitation, josh immediately took off the hoodie he was in and gave it to you.

you’d tried to deny his offer, telling him, “i’m about to get in the car anyways, it’s okay.”

“ma, i’m giving this to you because i want to. not because i feel like i have to.”

his words have been stuck in your head ever since. and he never asked for it back.

not even when he saw you putting it on back in the locker room, with a smirk on his face like he’d won something.

“i dunno trin…” you start. “i really, really like him. he’s sweet, he’s caring. he’s so fine — so fine it makes me want to punch him in his face.”

that earns a loud laugh from trinity.

you smile, but your voice softens as you start spilling what’s really been sitting on your heart. the truth.

“he sees me, y’know? i don’t have to put an act on in front of him. and if i do, then he’ll clock it. he’ll ask me why i’m pretending to be someone i’m not. he knows me — understands me, even the parts i don’t understand myself.”

you turn your head to meet trinity’s gaze, a warm yet serious look on your face.

“if i didn’t know any better…”

a soft breath escapes your lips.

“i’d think… i might be in love with him.”

“think?” trinity scoffs lightly. “babe, you are in love with him.”

trinity reaches for your hand with her free one, giving it a tight and reassuring squeeze.

“i’m here for you babe, i’m rooting for yall each step of the way,” she says with a light smile — one that’s gentle. proud.

-

ever since you finally told trinity how you truly feel about joshua, its felt like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders. you didn’t realize your “little” crush on him had grown into something much bigger — something harder to ignore.

which made it harder for you to even be in his presence lately, let alone see him at all. so… you kinda started avoiding him like the plague. which he’d noticed, of course he did.

dinner that night had been… different, or to josh at least. instead of your usual back-and-forth playful banter, you’d give a small, nervous giggle and go back to whatever it was you were doing. instead of sitting next to him like usual, you sat next to trin — leaving him to sit next to his twin. instead of him taking you home, like always, you drove yourself home.

and now? he’d barely seen you backstage. monday night raw had just wrapped up, and the only time he’s seen you was when you were in the ring. after that, it’s like you vanished.

well… not completely vanished. right now you were trying your best to get out the building without seeing josh.

you scanned the hallway, making sure the coast was clear.

you’d made it all the way from gorilla, to wardrobe, to catering and back toward the lot so far. you even ducked behind a stack of production equipment when you heard his laugh near catering.

you were so close to freedom. so close.

and then —

“damn. so this what we doin’ ma?”

gosh darn it.

you froze. didn’t help that you were also crouching behind the stacks of chairs, trying to disguise yourself in case anyone saw you.

you exhaled through your nose, already cringing as you stood to turn around very slowly.

there he was. arms crossed, jacket half zipped, tatted chest on display. chain out. smirk already on his face.

“running from me like i got beef with you or somethin’,” he said, taking a step closer. “i ain’t even do nothin’ yet.”

you opened your mouth. then closed it. opened it again, “i wasn’t- i’m not running from anyone.”

he tilted his head. “you were crouching behind a stack of chairs.”

“that was… me getting some last minute stretches!”

“i saw you ducking behind the big crates near catering.”

“oh… that was a tactical move!”

josh blinked. “a what?”

you crossed your arms, “i was checking my phone.”

he lifted a brow, “behind road cases?”

“yeah, it’s good lighting back there y’know.” you feel your pulse rising, getting more and more nervous the closer he moves towards you.

and fuck, you can smell his cologne on him. you fear if he was your man, you’d be on that faster than jey and his plate at a cookout.

he narrowed his eyes at you, a more serious look on his face. “you avoiding me mama?”

“…no.”

he stared.

“maybe. a little.”

he laughed — just a little. it was that low, raspy kind of laugh that always made your stomach flip. “so what i do, hm? you mad at me? you tired of me flirtin’? i do something wrong?”

you blinked. “no…”

“then what?”

you were about to answer when one of the interviewers came and dragged you away for a segment. “hey! we’ve been looking all over for you, c’mon we gotta finish this last one so we can go!”

you looked back at josh, an apologetic look on your face.

he groaned, making his way to the lot and slipping into his car. he turned on the car but he didn’t drive off. he just sat there, staring into nothing.

his thoughts were loud. the silence was louder.

then a knock on his window broke his train of thought.

he flinched. it was trinity, with a very unimpressed look on her face.

“hey bro, you coming to dinner tonight?”

“uh… maybe, dunno yet.”

trinity frowned. “is this about miss ma’am in there?”

he didn’t answer, so she walked around and opened the passenger door, climbing in without asking.

“okay. spill.”

josh let out a light chuckle. “spill what?”

“why she got you sitting here like a sad little puppy,” trinity says, rolling her eyes.

“she’s just been… acting weird,” he muttered. avoiding me and shit.”

“so you do have a crush on her!” trinity says triumphantly.

he chuckled again, but quieter. “yeah… guess so. doesn’t matter now though, if i’ve made her uncomfortable or something.”

“uncomfortable?” she stares at him with wide eyes. “damn, both of yall are oblivious.”

he looked at her dumbfounded. “huh?”

“the last thing you’re doing is making her uncomfortable,” trinity scoffed, laughing now. “y’know that girl is head over heels for you, right?”

he sits up straighter. “no? says who? since when?”

“says herself. since yall met.”

trinity looks at the windshield, making sure you weren’t walking out before dropping her voice. “look, you didn’t hear this from me, but she’s in love with you bro.”

josh blinked. “nah, you’re lying.”

she smiled, leaning back. “nope. told me on the way to dinner the other night, while she was in your hoodie. pretty sure she was in denial until she opened up to me ‘bout it.”

that’s when it clicks in joshs head. no wonder she was acting weird.

“okay, listen to me. she’s not coming to dinner, she said she’s too scared to face you. but if you really want her, then go to her place tonight. talk things out with her, okay?”

he let out a breath. “okay. thanks sis,” he says with a smile, fist bumping trinity.

“always brother. now lemme get out before she sees me in here,” trinity laughs out.

-

you were sat on your couch, eating ice cream and laughing at the rom-com you turned on. you skipped out on dinner tonight thinking you could get your mind off of him. spoiler, it’s not working.

you missed him. it doesn’t feel right not flirting back and forth with him. it doesn’t feel right to be laughing and trin and jon alone, making fun of their corny lovebird selves.

your mind kept drifting back to your encounter with him earlier. he looked… hurt. genuinely. you felt guilt eating away at you.

there was a knock at the door.

oh must be my package, you thought — although it was pretty late at night. who delivers things this late?

however, when you open the door, it was not a package. instead it was josh — smiling like an idiot and holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“hey baby.”

you blinked, surprise on your face.

“uh- wha- what’re you doing here?”

“thought we’d finish our conversation from earlier,” he says coolly, already stepping inside like he lived there and taking his shoes off. “oh, these are for you by the way.” he handed you the flowers, smirking at your expression.

“josh.”

“what?”

“you can’t just show up with flowers like this,” you let a small chuckle out.

“sure i can, i just did.”

you deadpan at him.

“it was like 10 bucks at the corner store, calm down mama,” he laughs, flopping onto your living room couch.

“wow, you’re eating ice cream and watching the andie anderson without me? i’m hurt,” he fake winced.

you roll your eyes, grabbing the tub of ice cream from him. “boy hush.”

you make a quick stop in the kitchen to place the flowers in water and put your ice cream in the freezer before returning to josh, still watching the movie.

you sat down next to him, “so, you really came here to finish our conversation?”

he looked at you. “yeah. they dragged you away before i got to hear why you hate me so much that you’re avoiding me,” he laughs. but you didn’t.

“… i don’t hate you,” you say quietly, looking down at your lap.

his expression softened. “so what’s up? what’d i do baby?”

you groan. “that! you do.. that!”

he blinked.

“you do all this name calling, calling me ‘baby’ and ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ — you do all this flirting, not even knowing it makes my stomach do flips and twists. you look at me like i have the world in my hands, yet you still see me as a friend and you don’t even realize i’m in love with you!”

you stilled as you watch his expression change. then you realize. what the fuck did i just say?

“oh my gosh i just said that,” you say, putting your face in your hands.

he laughs, “yeah… you did.”

“that’s so embarrassing, please ignore everything i just said.” at this point, you were hoping a hole would open in the floor and swallow you whole.

but to your surprise, instead of pushing you away like you thought he would, he gently grabbed your hands from your face, forcing you to look at him.

“who says i see you as my friend mama?”

your brows furrowed. “what?”

he chuckles, bringing your hands to his lips, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles.

“i’m in love with you too baby.”

your breath caught. your heart pounding.

“… you are?” you asked quietly.

he nodded, “you think i flirt with everybody?”

“i mean… yeah, kind of…”

he laughs, “okay, fair. i guess ‘m a flirty guy. but i don’t flirt with everybody the way i do with you. not when they don’t matter the way you do to me.”

you blinked, still stunned and in shock.

“i thought i was imagining it,” you say as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

josh leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“you weren’t,” he murmured. “trust me, i’ve been dying to have you since day one. just couldn’t tell if you were playing with me… or trying not to feel it.”

“maybe a little bit of both,” you giggle.

he smiled. “well, now that we got that out the way — can i kiss you or are you gonna spiral again?”

you laugh, hitting his chest. “shut up.”

“i’m serious!” he grinned. “just need you to give me the green light mama.”

you rolled your eyes, but your voice was soft. “green light.”

he didn’t waste any time.

he leaned in and kissed you slowly, like you were something fragile. like he’s been waiting forever to do it right. his hands came up to cup your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he deepened the kiss.

you pulled away first, just enough to say, “still can’t believe i told you like that.”

he grinned. “yeah, but that was you being you. exactly how i want you be.”

“… unhinged and chaotic?”

“exactly,” he says while tugging you into his lap. “just my type.”

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 — JAMES POTTER!

pairings ❧ james potter x reader

summary ❧ you think james is really pretty—unfortunately for you, sirius notices and decides to take matters into his own hands

warnings ❧ female!reader, implied gryffindor!reader, siruis playing matchmaker, mutual pinning, fluff, cheesy writing, kissing, public displays of affection

word count ❧ 1k

additional notes ❧ i have a series idea for this so if you’re interested let me know ´･ᴗ･`

“Kind of a pretty boy, isn’t he?”

Calling James a pretty boy is an understatement. James Potter is the absolute embodiment of beauty. Those perfect little dimples that dip flawlessly upon his cheeks, the mole that lingers where his jaw meets his neck, a spot you’d love to place your lips. Those brown eyes that pool into yours like a drop of honey, eyes that you could get lost in forever. And finally those soft lips that never seem to be without a smile. It consumes your every thought, and quite frankly, you could stare at him forever.

That’s exactly what got you into this situation. Staring. But you just can’t help it. Not when James is sitting on the couch across the common room, his arms resting on the back, while unintentionally showing off his biceps with a white button up that seems a little too tight for his body. An effortless smile is planted firmly upon his face while he laughs and converses with Remus and Peter, who sit on the lounge chairs opposite of him.

“(Y/n)?” Siruis’ voice catches your attention, causing you to become fully aware of his presence on the couch next to you.

“Hm?” You hum, seemingly unable to tear your gaze away from the boy who still sits perfectly across the room.

“Are you just going to ignore me and continue staring at Prongs or what?” Siruis asks playfully, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“If you want me to agree with you, it’s not going to happen.” You respond, finally turning your attention away from James and towards the smug looking Sirius Black beside you, a hint of annoyance heard through your tone.

“Oh come on, everyone sees the way you look at him.” Sirius groans while leaning his head back against the couch, before turning to face you with another mischievous grin, “Just admit it, you think he’s pretty.”

“Fine, maybe I think he’s a little bit pretty.” You admit and a rush of heat spreads across your cheeks, hence your confession. “But it doesn’t mean—”

“You think who’s pretty?” James’ voice pipes in cheerfully, while you and Sirius watch as the boy happily plops down next to you, his arm instinctively resting against the couch behind your head.

“No one.” You respond quickly, your eyes wide and full of panic with the thought of James knowing about your infatuation.

“You.” Sirius says at the same time, and you instantly send him a sharp glare, feeling a sense of betrayal, but you only receive a smug grin in response, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Me?” James questions, glancing back and forth at you and Sirius, his obvious confusion forming an adorable crease between his eyebrows.

The tension in the air is palpable, you and James can’t seem to take your eyes off of each other, while Sirius watches with a satisfied expression clear on his face. The moment seems to last forever and your heart rate begins to rise as your panic sets in.

“That’s my cue.” Sirius whispers before sending you a wink and jumping up from his place next to you, bounding over to the spot across from Remus and Peter, where James was once sitting.

“Traitor.” You mouth towards Sirius and you receive an innocent shrug in response, which causes you to let out an annoyed huff.

“You think I’m pretty, darling?” James asks hesitantly and you return your gaze to James’, a surprised look in your eyes because of how soft his tone is.

James Potter is not shy. He’s never been one to back down from anything, dares, pranks, and especially talking to girls. They’ve always been all over him, hence, he’s pretty and he knows it. However, unbeknownst to you, you’ve always been the only person to manage to break down those confident walls and show the softer, shyer side of James. The boy can’t help but feel bubbly and warm around you, something stirs deep within his gut that he’s never felt before.

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty, James.” You respond without hesitation and you can’t believe those words just came out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” James asks, while tilting his head to one side, and a boyish grin spreads across his face, showing off those gorgeous little dimples that you love so much.

“Yeah.” You nod, and James’ infectious smile causes one of your own to make its way onto your face.

“Well love, I think you’re pretty, too.” James leans forward to whisper, the words linger, only for your ears to hear while placing his large, but soft hand upon your cheek and begins gently drawing circles over your skin.

“How pretty?” You ask, a flush rising to your cheeks, shocked with your own boldness, while James releases his hand from your cheek and places your hand in his.

“Really pretty.” James hums lovingly and strokes his thumb across your knuckles, “Can I kiss you, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah.” You nod, my gaze trailing down at James’ mouth when you notice his tongue darting out in order to wet his lips.

Instantly after your words of confirmation, James’ hands slip from yours and grab your cheeks, intertwining his fingers with your hair, and placing his lips on yours. Kissing James is everything and nothing like you’d excepted. His lips are soft, his hands are warm against your cheeks, the kiss is passionate and sweet just like you’d expected, and yet it makes you feel like the whole world is crumbling all around you, leaving just the two of you alone together.

When the both of you finally pull away, James holds you close as the two of you begin to chuckle breathlessly and yet James’ rumbling laugh still manages to shake his chest all the while filling your heart with warmth and love.

“Finally!” Sirius cheers from across the room, grabbing you and James’ attention.

“Shut up, Padfoot!” James shouts back, and I let my head drop upon his shoulder, an embarrassed giggle escaping my lips.

“Now darling,” James says sweetly, and gently lifts my head up off his shoulder which causes me to shamelessly gaze into those pretty brown eyes, “How about a date?”

masterlist . my taglist

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[latenightdaydreams]

König thought

Him walking past a recruits' room, hearing them moaning his name.

Honestly think he'd go a little feral if their begging for him to let them cum.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 König would absolutely die if he heard this.

Late Night Walk (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part2

>cw: fem/afab, voyeurism, masturbation

1.0k word count

.

.

It was way past midnight and König couldn’t sleep. He put on grey sweat pants and a tight black shirt, his sniper hood over his head as he leaves his room. The halls are quiet as he walks along, only the sound of his footsteps filling the empty space. Turning the corner, something catches König’s attention.

A tiny pathetic little moan; his cock instantly tingles. He slows his steps so that they can’t hear his footsteps and accidently interrupt them. He hears them whimper his name. A small little “König” and he feels like his mind is melting. He walks close to your door, realizing it’s you. His jaw drops. You? He had no idea someone like you could desire him. You’re so…perfect.

He hears small wet sounds, most likely the sound of your small fingers going in and out of your tiny cunt. Fingers so small, they probably aren’t even pleasing you. Just one of his fingers would probably fill you…

“Mmmm, König, please.” You moan from your bed.

König’s eyes flutter as he hears you moan his name again. He quickly looks around the hallway to make sure no one else is around. Once he is sure he is truly alone, he slips a hand under the band of his sweat pants; his hand grasping his cock. He presses his ear against your door to hear things better.

His large calloused hand wraps around his leaky cock, pulling back his foreskin before rubbing his palm around the tip. His breath shutters from the pleasure. He closes his eyes and focuses on your sounds. His hand grips himself tightly as he begins to stroke his cock. Picturing in his mind that he was fucking your pretty pussy instead.

He has an overwhelming urge to knock on your door and just go in and fuck you. You’re literally moaning out to him, yet he can’t seem to find the nerve to. You’re a recruit and he is your Colonel. That would be breaking the rules, but fuck that cunt sounds deliciously wet.

Pumping his fist over his cock faster as he hears your little fingers begin to move faster. Your moans becoming slightly louder and more intense. You’re getting ready to cum. He listens intently.

“König, please, I need to cum.” Oh fuck, his brow furrows as he stops breathing. “Please, make me cum König.”

My god how he wishes he was the one making you cum, not your pathetic little fingers. His cock would ruin you for any other man, you’d be his forever; addicted to the way he fucks you. You’d never have a lonely night again.

Eyes closed and three fingers deep into your pussy, you’re imagining König’s massive body over yours. Legs spread wide apart to accompany his body, three fingers because you know his cock would be fucking massive. The man is a behemoth. You imagine him relentlessly fucking your cunt until you wouldn’t walk. You’re close. Moaning out to the König you’re envisioning.

“Please, can I cum Colonel?” Your free hand moves to rub your clit.

Please cum for me. König is losing his mind. Begging him to let you cum, calling him by his rank. König bites his tongue to stifle his moans as he begins to jizz in his pants. He couldn’t hold on any longer.

On the other side of the door your moan out in a soft melody, thanking König for fucking you. König in disbelief of what just happened, quickly snaps out of his lust trance when he hears you get up from the bed. He withdraws his hand and wipes it on the side of his sweat pants.

With a wet spot on his pants, he quickly and quietly turns and goes back to his room. Quickly changing out of his cum covered bottom, he gets into bed, excited to see you tomorrow.

The next morning you had training bright and early. You got showered, dressed, and ate before heading off. Once entering the room, your eyes instantly go to König, like always. Except this time, his icy blue eyes were already on you. Instantly you blush and look down to the ground. König smirks under his mask and continues to watch you.

As recruits are filing into the room König takes the time to slowly approach you from behind; he can’t stop replaying you moaning out for him in his mind. He towers over you and stands closer than he has to. You smell wonderful, he wonders how your pussy smells.

Feeling a presence behind you, you turn. Jumping when you see König. He just looks down at you for a while not moving.

“Hallo,” Why am I so fucking awkward?!  

“Hello, Colonel.”

“How are you today?” His voice is stoic, hiding the lust he feels for you.

“I’m well sir, yourself?”

He nods softly, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your soft lips and then back up. He is thinking about kissing them, wondering how you taste. Imagining what they would look like wrapped around his fat cock. “I’m also well.”

You both stand awkwardly, both wanting to say something but not daring to say anything. Instead, you gaze into his blue eyes and take in his true size and smell. As he studies your face, trying to imagine how it looked when you were moaning out his name.  He was going to find out. Leaning in a little more so he can whisper in your ear, his proximity sending chills down your spine.

“You know, Liebling, if you were to ever find yourself unable to sleep again…my door is always open.”

König leans back and looks down at your stunned expression, clearly embarrassed but he can see the excitement building behind your eyes. He simply turns around and walks away, as if he was totally chill about this. In reality he can’t believe he just did that. His heart beating a million miles an hour and face bright red, but the mask hides it all.

He only hopes that you take him up on that offer.

Part2

[marauder-misprint]

Congrats on 1,000 followers! I just recently found your writing and started binge reading. I was wondering if you could write the getting asked out prompt; “one problem, you hate me.” with George Weasley. Something like f!reader’s close with Fred but has always secretly liked George and George acts cold towards her because he think she’s interested in Fred when he’s always fancied her?

Thank you! ❤︎ I swear I posted my 1,000 Followers celebration and then immediately forgot how to write. Brains are stupid.

BUT! I am happy to be slowly expanding my Golden Trio era writing ❤︎

Hope you enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

One Problem

George Weasley x reader

1.9k words

cw: pining, fluff, y/n

For most people, Fred and George were a package deal. If you were friends with one, you were automatically friends with the other. You were one of the few who only managed to befriend one of them. You and Fred served a detention together during first year and since then, you have been friends. George also had detention that night, but he was halfway across the school with a different professor. Professors learned quickly to not put Fred and George in the same detention. 

Somehow in all the times you went to Gryffindor parties and Hogsmeade with Fred, George never seemed to get the memo that you and Fred were friends. In all the times you did homework with Fred, walked with him to class, talked to him during said classes and even sat with him during meals, George rarely interacted with you. You only minded a little bit because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to respond if he did talk to you for longer than thirty seconds. 

Through your friendship with Fred, you’ve been able to be near George. Close enough to know that he uses a different cologne than Fred, that his handwriting is more swoopy than Fred’s, that he’s more of the brains behind their pranks and products while Fred is the idea guy. You find yourself laughing harder at George’s jokes and staring at him during quidditch practices and games. You were simply drawn to George.

It felt like some kind of cruel joke that you’re able to have such a close relationship with Fred while crushing hard on George. 

“Fred!” you called, jogging to catch up to the twins as they walked to Hogsmeade. 

“Hey! No girls today?” he asked once you got closer. 

George shifted slightly away from you on the path and you tried to ignore it.

“No. They all got dates. There must be something in the air or something…” you said, shaking your head. “My options were to either cry in the library over Snape’s essay or hope to run into you.”

“You have time to turn back,” George muttered.

You shot him a quick glare before turning back to Fred. “D’you mind if I tag along? Or is this precious twin time?”

“You’re always welcome with us,” Fred said, throwing a loose arm over your shoulder. “Right, Georgie?” 

“Right,” he grumbled with an eye roll that Fred missed. 

It became more clear that you weren’t intruding on twin time when Lee joined the group in Hogsmeade. As things normally went when it was the four of you, you split into two pairs: you and Fred, Lee and George. The boys’ first stop was always Zonko’s. You never bought anything for yourself in there, but you loved watching the three of them start to formulate prank ideas as they browsed the stands. Even just watching the boys shop, your eyes lingered on George. You never worried about getting caught staring; George didn’t look at you. 

The next stop was Honeydukes. This was where you spent your galleons. Fred followed you around like a shadow so he could influence your purchases with the hopes of being allowed to mooch off of your haul. George walked around the shop with Lee, but much like you in Zonko’s, his gaze found its way to you. 

“You’re staring again,” Lee sighed as he decided on which flavor of sugar quill he wanted. He didn’t need to actually look at George to know that he was staring. 

“I’m not.” George diverted his eyes from you. “You always pick the red one. Doubt you’re going to branch out now.” 

“You know you’d have a better shot with her if you actually talked to her, rather than creepily staring at her from across the store?” 

George snorted a laugh. “No shot with her to be had, Lee. She obviously fancies Fred.”

“If she fancies him, how come they haven’t snogged? She’s proper fit.”

“I don’t know. Do I look like Fred to you?” George sighed once he saw Lee’s face and realized what he said. “Don’t answer that, you twat.”

“Just givin’ you my advice, that’s all. You got to relax and talk to her. She’s just a girl.” 

George wanted to laugh. Just a girl. A girl that Fred brought around, introduced to their friends and allowed to stay. A girl who fit in perfectly and who was perfect, in every way except for the fact that she liked Fred. Well, liking Fred wasn’t the issue, fancying him was. He thought it was obvious in the way that you looked at him and always walked up to his side. Even though you’ve been around their friends for years, you still went to Fred first. You always went to Fred. 

After you and Lee purchased your sweets, Lee had the group stop for some ink and extra parchment before you made your way to the Three Broomsticks. It seemed like every student in Hogsmeade had descended on the pub. You lingered by the door as you searched for an open table. The group had to wait for a few minutes until some seventh years got up to leave. Lee was first to the table to claim it. 

“I’ll get the butterbeers,” Fred said, leaving you with Lee and George. 

You sat quietly, looking from George to Lee and back. As usual, George wouldn’t look at you and Lee had a permanent look of amusement on his face. Fred came back with the four mugs, handing the first one to you. He sat down next to you after sliding two across the table. 

“Right, so you were talking about Snape’s essay earlier. I have not started that,” Fred said. 

“So glad I don’t have to deal with those anymore,” Lee said, picking up his mug. 

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of dropping Potions, Jordan,” you sighed. “I’m stuck with Potions and Herbology forever.”

“What was it you want to do after Hogwarts?” Lee asked.

“Healer,” you and George said at the same time.

You gave George a curious look. You were frankly surprised that he remembered. He had been around a few times when you talked about it with Fred, but you didn’t think he was paying attention. He looked away from you and you swore the tips of his ears were slightly pink. Odd. 

“Right, right, because you’re always fixing these two after a prank gone wrong,” Lee laughed. 

“Oi!” Fred claimed, making you laugh and Lee laugh harder.

“You’ve certainly given me some good practice!” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours. “I’ve gotten quite good!”

“Your episkey hurts,” George deadpanned.

“Well, it’s either painful episkey from me or having to explain to Pomfrey why seven of your toes were broken.” 

“You could’ve numbed my feet first!”

“I didn’t have that potion with me.”

“That’s why you can’t drop Potions,” Fred said. “Can’t have you fixing toes without numbing potions.” 

“Very unprofessional of you,” Lee said.

“Not a healer yet, boys. But once I am, I promise you, my services won’t be free to you gits.”

Fred gasped dramatically. “You’re going to charge us?” 

“How else am I going to make a living?”

“I got a few ideas of what you could–fuck, ow!” Lee said, earning him at least a kick from you. He also got kicked by both of the twins. 

The conversation shifted to Fred and George’s next products. There was some spitballing and brainstorming. Then homework came up again. More essays. A story about how a mandrake bit Lee during second year. And Fred showing off a scar on his arm from the garden gnomes at the Burrow. 

Soon enough, it was time for you to return to Hogwarts. You walked with Lee as the twins fell a little behind. Lee was attempting to convince you to share your Charms essay with him for “inspiration” and you told him to get “inspiration” from Fred or George’s essays. Apparently, they were going to use his. Which brought him back to asking for yours. 

“You ‘ight, mate?” Fred asked, giving George a sideways glance. 

He sighed. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You ever kissed Y/N?”

Fred stumbled and mumbled, “Damn rocks,” when you briefly looked over your shoulder at him. Then he looked at George with narrowed eyes. “No. I haven’t. Never will. We don’t like each other like that.” 

George didn’t say anything. His thoughts lingered on how certain Fred sounded when he said we don’t. He was speaking for you too, but did he actually know? 

“You thinking about kissing her?” Fred asked after a few seconds.

“I… erm… might work up to it? You know, she’s pretty and stuff.”

Fred laughed. “And stuff!”

“You’re sure she doesn’t fancy you?” George asked, feeling a tad awkward about it all. Asking his brother if his good friend fancies him, and debating taking his shot if the answer’s no.

“Yeah. I think I’d know by now if she did.” Fred nudged George with his elbow. “Give it a go. You’re a pretty handsome bloke, if I do say so myself. And worst she can say is no, right?” 

“Yeah… Right.” 

George didn’t attempt to talk to you for the rest of the night. He didn’t change how he acted around you for a few days. He didn’t want to ask around Fred and you were always around Fred. George needed to get you alone. 

His chance came up when you were waiting for your friends outside of the library. Fred was off with Lee somewhere. You were alone, flipping through your Potions book with a frown on your face.

“Y/N,” he said, standing in front of you.

You lifted your eyes to look at George. Then you looked around. George didn’t talk to you unless Fred or Lee was around, and neither were. 

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you… if you’d want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Your heart stopped. George just asked you out? You’d always wanted this but it felt weird to actually have it happen. He can normally barely look at you.

You closed your book and crossed your arms. “One problem: you hate me.”

“I… I don’t hate you.”

“Sure act like it.”

George bounced on the balls of his feet briefly as his face flushed.

“That’d be because I really like you and thought you might fancy Fred.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Me and Fred? There’s nothing there besides good ol’ friendship.”

“So what about me? D’you think there could be something other than friendship here?” he asked, gesturing between you.

You bit the inside of your lip. This felt so out of character for George; well, being directed at you it was out of character. This George was the one you saw interacting with others. 

“You’re genuinely asking? Not some extravagant Weasley prank?” 

He nodded. 

“Then yes. I’d like that quite a lot. I mean, as long as you promise to actually look at me and talk to me?” 

“I can do that. I’ll even hold your hand if you’re up to it.”

“I probably will.” You smiled and then caught sight of your friends over George’s shoulder. “Erm, I see my friends, but I’m looking forward to our date.”

“Me too. I’ll talk to you later.”

He winked at you before turning to leave with more pep in his step than he had in a while. 

tags: @navs-bhat

[glitteringdust]

falling asleep on the other’s shoulder?

It was a known fact by everyone who knew him that Rook was never one to sit still. He'd practice his spells when he should be sleeping, then spar after he woke. He'd pace around any room he was in while lost in thought, no matter how long a day it had been. The fellow Grey Warden simply didn't relax, it seemed to Davrin, especially when he should.

After Weisshaupt was no exception.

Despite the broken ribs and concussion from being slammed into a wall by an ogre, Rook was once again not resting and instead pacing around the main hall of the Lighthouse. From a distance, he appeared unharmed and moving in his usual stride, but as Davrin climbed the stairs he could see the injuries starting to make themselves known— a hint of a limp on his right side, jaw clenching when he took too deep a breath. Bruises were beginning to bloom along his exposed collarbones and down his chest, Davrin could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

“I know, I know. I should be resting,” Rook breaks the silence, having finally noticed him while he'd been too busy thinking of bruises.

“You're right, you should be. I watched you get thrown like a ragdoll today. I'm surprised you're still standing.”

“I will admit, I am too.” He chuckles for a moment, before his hand flies to his injured side.

“Then why are you?”

Rook is quiet for a moment, unusual for him. “Trying to sleep in an illuminated fish bowl doesn't really help headaches,” pale eyes flick downwards, something left unsaid before continuing, “Can't sleep either?”

How could he? Weisshaupt was gone, a pillar of Grey Warden history destroyed by a god in one night. Losses in the hundreds, a gaping wound worse than even the Hero of Ferelden had to witness. Not to mention the heroic death from killing an Archdemon had been nothing, an unreachable final act.

“Not really, no.”

They stand under the blue glow of the main hall in a shared loss. He knows Rook had to make difficult choices, stand against impossible odds. He navigated danger like it was second nature, never backing down from what he believed in. Always going forward, a fierce flame of hope.

One that was dangerously close to flickering out from exhaustion any moment. The adrenaline must finally be fading, the full weight of the day catching up as Rook sways a bit on his feet.

“Rook, you're going to rest even if I have to carry your sorry butt there.” He rests his hand gently on Rook's shoulder, “So let's make this easy.”

Rook all but leans his entire weight against him as they descend the stairs and head towards his quarters. Going up proves to be much more difficult, but they eventually make their way inside.

Davrin leads him towards the bed, the furthest thing from the Fade light and guaranteed to be dark, “You can take the bed, Rook. Should help with that headache.”

Rook pulls away, eyebrows raised in mild shock, “What? Davrin, you don't have to do this. I'll fit in the chair just fine.”

He shakes his head, “Assan doesn't share that spot with just anyone.” Rook is about to object again but he cuts him off, “If I can do one good thing today, let it be this.”

It quiets Rook's protests, “Fine, but can I ask a favor first?”

“Sure, you name it.”

“Would you… brush my hair? Lifting my arms is hell with these broken ribs.”

It's not a request Davrin expected. Rook was protective of his hair, didn’t let anyone touch it, “Uh, are you sure?”

“If you don't, it'll be even worse tomorrow.” Rook says, a sly smile forming, “Don't worry if it hurts, though, I can handle it rough.”

Davrin chooses his next words carefully, “Oh, I don't know. Why don't we do gentle, see if you're not begging me to keep going.”

Rook blushes, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks. He follows Davrin to the arm chair, sitting gingerly on the floor between the other's legs, using the seat of the chair to rest his back on.

Davrin never understood why Rook had kept his hair so long all these years. It had to be hot in the summers, always in the way at the worst of times, and a hassle to care for…and yet, it was nothing if not beautiful to look at. A silvery blonde, surprisingly soft.

Davrin works his way through the first of the tangles, careful not to pull too hard as he frees the strands. It becomes a rhythm, and Rook melts into it. He gives off a slight hum with every sweeping motion, softening inch by inch.

“For what it's worth Davrin, I'm really glad you're alive.” Rook's voice was murmur, wavering ever so slightly but he says nothing more. Instead, he leans his head against Davrin's thigh.

The motion was so simple, yet Davrin felt a flutter in his stomach. He's only felt that flutter when he's caught Rook staring on more than one occasion, but then again he's done the same to Rook just as many times. He couldn't remember the last time he had someone who understood him. Someone who knew what it was like to leave what you knew behind, how to fight for those who need it most. To be a light through all the darkness.

Rook's hair was more than smooth, now. Davrin sets the brush down when he hears it. Soft snoring.

Did Rook… fall asleep sitting like this? He watches the rise and fall of his shoulders, slow and even. Sure enough, he had.

Well, better to let him sleep for a bit. He sits back, staring at the fire until his own eyelids begin to droop. The weight of the day was still there, yet Rook's weight against him lessened the load.

It's hours before either of them wake.

[perfectsunlight]

𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢 — 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰ yeji is the star of the football team and EVERYONE knows that. this girl is hands down the cornerstone of the team

✰ but everyone also knows you're dating THE hwang yeji as well ;)

✰ before you met her, you alr knew of her reputation. yeji was js like the rest of the football team; a major asshole

✰ she wasn't as bad as her teammates, but she was def the one with the loudest mouth tbh

✰ hell she even argued with her COACHES at some points. this girl js does not like it when things don't go her way

✰ the first time you met was bc she parked in your spot by accident. she wasn't gonna move her car until she saw you walking up to confront her abt it tho...

✰ you pointed a finger in her face, an angry pout on your lips as you explained to her how you were late to your classes bc of her

✰ however...she wasn't listening to a thing you were saying tbh LOL

✰ you were just so goddamn pretty, even when you were yelling at her in the middle of the school parking lot

✰ needless to say she went from asshole yeji to lovesick yeji

✰ immediately apologized and moved right that second, but not before leaving her number on ur windshield ;)

✰ "i'm sorry again. let me make it up to you this weekend at dinner? xxx-xxx-xxxx :)"

when you're at school:

✰ yk how there's those yearbook superlatives with "best dressed", "best eyes", "best laugh", etc? you two take the cake for best couple

✰ you two don't show massive pda during school hours. the most you two do is hold hands or you holding onto yeji's bicep

✰ whenever you're getting out of class, she's waiting for you to walk you to your next one

✰ she's just a big sweetheart who doesn't care if she's late to her own class for walking you across campus to yours LMAO

✰ you and yeji sit in your separate groups of friends during lunch, but you two alw sneak glances at each other from across the courtyard

✰ getting a text immediately after yeji catches you staring that says "meet me in the bathroom" ;)

✰ she alw insists on a quick makeout session just before the bell rings so she can have you all to herself, even js for 5 mins

✰ oh and good luck if you have a class with her 💀 she's gonna be passing you notes from across the aisle, throwing things at you, winking at you, etc.

✰ she's the best distraction tho so you can't complain too much, esp since she's just so pretty

✰ sometimes yeji is in a bad mood bc of a bad game or practice, and she really js needs some space

✰ but she will never and i mean NEVER turn down an offer to hang out with you instead of sulking in her bedroom

✰ your go-to is alw a nice walk in the park. yeji likes being in nature, and being with you just adds more comfort to the mix

✰ she gets REALLY clingy whenever she's all sulky its literally so cute :c

✰ like im talking hugging you from behind, whining and swinging your hands together when you walk, and ALWAYS kissing your cheek

✰ she js needs you as physically close to her as possible!! you're her baby after all

✰ and if it's YOU who has had a bad day or smth? be prepared for the biggest pampering

✰ flowers, driving you around at night in her porsche, taking you out shopping

✰ hell she'll spoil you ROTTEN. she js hates seeing you so sad and down so she will do everything in her power to turn ur frown upside down

if you're also an athlete:

✰ you two are alw supporting each other at games. yeji is def sporting your jersey/number

✰ you're each other's good luck charms <3 and best believe yeji cannot go out on the field without a good luck kiss from you !

✰ now if you couldn't make it to her game because you had one of your own, then she'd def call you before she leaves the locker room. talking to you is a MUST, esp bc the poor girl gets rlly nervous before big games :(

✰ this girl LOVES to compete with you. it's alw a competition whenever the two of you train together, esp bc neither of you like to lose

✰ she could make a competition out of racing from the field to her porsche smh

✰ don't be mistaken tho, she LOVES training with you. it gives her an excuse to work harder so she won't embarrass herself lmao

if you're not an athlete:

✰ oh you're never not wearing this girl's letterman jacket. she refuses to see you around school without it 💀

✰ now this is a BIG move bc before you, yeji NEVER and i mean NEVER took that thing off. it was her pride and joy, and she loved sporting it around like the walking trophy she was

✰ but then she started dating you, and that changed instantly. at first she let you wear it one night bc she didn't want you to be cold after meeting up with her after a late night practice

✰ you were abt to give it back to her after you were done hanging out, but she js smiled and shook her head, telling you she wanted you to keep it :)

✰ you like going to the top floors of the library bc they overlook the football field, and when yeji is practicing you can work on hw while watching ur gf tehe

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

A long time ago, after I posted my Neddy learns about Anthony’s Dad Lore drabble, I got an anon ask for more “grown ass Kanthony”. I can’t find the ask now and this soooo late, but I hope you still enjoy some geriatric Kanthony!!!

Anthony couldn’t quite remember how it started. He didn’t know when he began collecting them like tokens. The creases next to Kate’s eyes deepening when she smiled, the hints of grey peaking out as he ran his fingers through her soft luscious hair. Signs of a life well lived, a happy one, a long one. And he collected each bit, every time he managed to catch a glimpse, he stored them in his heart, to thank the lord, the universe, or whatever divine entity had granted him the privilege of not just growing old, but growing old with Kate.

Once upon a time, before Kate, when his life was just somehow… less, less vibrant, less joyful, less worth living, he remembered panicking upon finding a singular strand of grey hair sprouting right at the crown of his head. It had seemed like an ugly reminder that the finish line was approaching and he was not fast enough to outrun it. He did not have his affairs in order, the arrangements for the estates were still incomplete and his plans for his tenants were still unfinished.

But now, much like everything in his life after Kate, including his own self, it was different. Nowadays, the white hair was an excuse for him to tease his youngest son that his mischief was turning his father grey. Every ache was an excuse for his daughter to offer to kiss it better. Every ache was an excuse for his oldest to playfully rib him. Signs of a life well lived.

However, he still knew that his wife carried them off much more gracefully.

Which is why when he came upon Kate laid down in the middle of the day, with a physician at her bedside, he felt the once familiar fear creep through him, numbing him from fingers to his toes, chilling his heart. He couldn’t help but wonder if his gratitude had come across as gloating and now Kate was being punished for it. He felt frozen, unable to move, step over the threshold of his bed chamber and face whatever grotesque reality he met there.

His eyes were trailing frantically around the room when his gaze collided with Kate’s. The hum of panic in his brain cut off abruptly.

Because his wife was blushing. A fascinating shade of purple under the warm brown of her skin. He had seen it before but each time, he still felt as fascinated as he had the first time he’d seen it.

A few weeks after their wedding, after many letters to Mary and an unreasonable amount of visits to an ambassador from India, he had finally learnt to say I love you in Kate’s native tongue of tamil. One day, as they lazed around their favourite drawing room at Aubrey Hall, after supper, he’d said it, rather abruptly, clumsily forming the words just as he’d practiced. And then Kate had giggled, the sweetest little laugh he’d ever heard, flushed that beautiful hue of purple he would swear was his favourite colour till the day he died, and, buried her face in his shoulder. He felt thrilled, fascinated, enchanted. He finally understood the concept of eureka his philosophy professor at Oxford had tried so hard to teach him.

Later, when his chest was no longer so puffed with pride that his waistcoat was in imminent danger of bursting open, Kate would tell him that it felt more intense when he said it in tamil, excessive in its devotion. And he’d rush to assure her that he meant it in an excessively devoted and besotted manner, and then Kate would smile in a way that made her eyes shine and made her lips look kissable.

Shaking off that pleasant memory of one of the best days of his life, he blinked at Kate.

The physician, a crotchety old man who’d tended to all the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall, for many years now, simply cleared his throat, bowed to him and walked out with remarkable speed. Momentarily distracted from Kate, Anthony frowned at his retreating figure.

But then as always, he turned back to Kate. Who was now smiling a secret smile at him, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“You’re going to have to buy 50 more dolls to keep things fair ”

And just like that Anthony’s list of signs of a life well-lived, his forever with Kate, grew exponentially longer.

[sunriseatmyheart]

Cg! Haymitch with baby! Katniss oneshot

Note: requested by @snoopymydear , this is my first oneshot in a while so it might be a bit occ or have spelling mistakes. (so sorry in advance) Anyways baby Katniss is actually the cutest.

tw/tags: cg!haymitch and little!katniss , soft! Haymitch, Katniss being fuzzy , bottle feeding , haymitch horrible singing.

Haymitch was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling. It had been a few hours now since he put Katniss to bed. Hes been trying to catch some sleep ever since then but it just wasn’t working.

He finally managed to close his eyes for what he thought was only a few minutes before a he heard soft whine coming from Katniss’ room. He instantly sat up on his bed, groaning softly as the room started to spin from getting up so fast.

Once he finally came back to his senses he got up, walking torward Katniss’ room. The floor creaked as he walked down the narrow hallways of his hom. When he open the door he couldn’t help but frown at the image before him. Katniss was sitting up on her bed staring at the floor, there was a few tears streaming down her face. Her stuffed animal was also on the floor, Haymitch guess that it must had fallen from all the tossing and turning.

He walk slowly into the room as to not scared the her further. When Katniss finally notice he was there, she wiped away the tears that were falling down her face.

Haymitch sat on the edge of the bed, it creaked and dip in protest to the extra weight. “Can’t sleep either, huh kid?” He asked, his voice soft. Katniss nodded, quickly rubbing her eyes to wipe away the tears threatening to fall again.

Haymitch watched her carefully, trying to formulate a plan on how to make her feel better. He smooth a hairs that were sticking to Katniss forehead behind her ear before messing up the rest of it. Katniss letting a small whine at the action.

“How about we get you a bottle sweetheart” He brought up. Katniss thought about it for a second, her brain feeling fuzzier than normal. She nodded, making small grabby hands to get him to pick her up.

Haymitch quickly caught up and picked her up, setting her on his waist. She instantly cuddle up to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Haymitch made his way downstairs, making sure to be careful not to step on any lose toys or junk he had lying around. Once they reach the kitchen, he set her on the kitchen counter.

Katniss silently watched Haymitch as he moved around the kitchen. Getting the milk out the fridge and mixing it with sugar and something that smell like vanilla.

When haymitch finally finish putting the milk on the bottle (after a bit of a hassle) , he noticed Katniss mindlessly sucking on her thumb. He quickly started to looked for a pacifier. He found a brown one in one of the cabinets. He had it just incase Peeta slipped. He figured it would worked and decided to washed.

Once it was all clean he made his way back to Katniss, carefully removing the thumb out of her mouth and exchanging it for the pacifier. She immediately started to suck on it, already feeling better.

Haymitch picked her up again, as well as the bottle and made his way upstairs. He place Katniss on the bed before sitting next to her.

“Do you want me to help?” he asked as he offered her the bottle. She nodded, already starting to feel sleepy. Haymitch help her sit on his lap, making sure she was comfortable. Once he was sure she was, he removed the pacifier and offered the bottle again. She happily accepted it.

Once Katniss finished all the milk, Haymitch set the bottle on the night stand. He gave her the pacifier back before setting her on the bed. He help her get all settled in, making sure her stuffed animal, that had fallen, was tucked in as well.

He was about to get up to turn of the light when he heard a whine come from Katniss. She looked like she was about to start crying again. “Okay sweetheart, I won’t go anywhere” He said sitting back down.

“you need to rest, so how about I sing you something. It use to always help me when I couldn’t sleep” He offered. Katniss sleepily nods as she lets out a yawn. Haymitch clears his throat with a chuckle before starting to sing.

His singing was a bit rough, and he certainly wasn’t the best but Katniss didn’t mind. She listen to him not recognize the song. The words started to melt together as her eyelids started to feel heavy. Sleep wrapping his sweet arms around her.

She finally fell asleep by the end of Haymitch song. He got up slowly as to not wake her up. He stood watching her for a second, a small smile creeping on his face.

“Night sweetheart” He said softly as he turned off the lights.

[tragicallyuncreative]

Just some Brody Grant to bless your feed…

I love this song! One of my favorites of ALW and Tim Rice. One of my favorite things in the whole world is “variations”, when a performer changes up the song a bit. I will get so hooked on those variations and listen to them over and over until I can’t remember how the original was song. This is one of those. My soul literally ascends lol. Side note, I have scoured the internet and come to the sad conclusion that there is no footage from Brody’s performance at the 2015 Shuler Awards. Sad because he sang from Catch Me If You Can, one of my all time favorite shows. I would kill to hear him perform that soundtrack! But there are videos of Brent Comer singing it to pacify me 🤣

Also, I’m sure @every-single-day has seen this, but if not, you can add it to your BG collection 😏