#what kind of activity are the students supposed to use it for? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vibelladonna · 3 months ago

Text

❛ 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.

416 notes · View notes

elizzsush · 1 year ago

Text

Future Child | Twisted Wonderland

Malleus Draconia X Reader

----It wasn’t everyday you’d find a three year old running around campus causing a ruckus. Usually students wouldn’t have to deal with this, but with Crowley you had to deal with everything. Now… why is it when you catch this small trouble maker it calls you “momma”?

AUs: None Rating: SFW

Note: Hi, hi! So, basically, I wasn't going to finish this and posted it as a WIP and people really liked it. So, then I had no other choice but to finish it! And I hope you like it.

____________________________________

Crowley in-listed you to help with the child problem around school. No, wait that sounded bad. A young fae no older than five got into night raven campus and has been running amok. Some students say he appeared out of thin air. So, obviously, you: the defenseless, Magic-less human with no knowledge of fae or even how some of these basics of this world work, you were the schools best bet against this ‘threat.’ And so, your oh so kind instructor pushed this task onto you and left.

Not without you demanding an extra allowance, but still.

Thankfully, you were well equipped with a grumpy cat-weasel thing who is so glad to help and definitely did not try and run away. “Ehh? Why do I have to help ya??” Grim whined as he hung limply, your hand firmly grasping his scruff as you held him up. He was so generous and did not need to be bribed at all.

You sighed, “I’ll put some money aside from this to get you tuna.” Technically, that was a lie. No, you were going to fix the window Grim broke from practicing his magic in the house, again.

“I want two cans!” The motivated cat purred and jumped onto your shoulders. Now, you can finally begin your mission and take on this… threat...?

This threat was a real threat!

The sight of the frozen cafeteria did scare you. You had learnt that after you had stumbled upon the frozen dinning hall; all of this was from the baby fae! What on Earth were you suppose to even do once you caught the child?

How would you catch this kid without being frozen exactly? Why were you put on this task?

There was a mountain of ice and a many frozen students who were actively being saved by other students most of whom were made to help. They had gotten lucky in your option. They didn’t have to find the kid. “So much magic…" An awestruck student said, "it’s hard to believe a kid did this.” The nameless person mumbled as they helped thaw the room out. You couldn’t help but hum in agreement to yourself.

What kid could do this when Deuce struggled with making anything but cauldrons while he was somewhere new! It was… overwhelming magic for sure. Even for you to stand in the middle of it, magicless. And this was just the dining hall!

Apparently, you had three more places to check out.

“Not much to see here.” Grim grumbled from your shoulder, just then a ball of fire came hurtling towards the two of you! “Eek!!” Grim squealed jumping of your shoulder while you ducked.

“Sorry!” A no name student called out… He had been using the fire to dethaw some students.

“We should leave… and fast.” You said as you turned to leave in a hurry. You tripped on the ice almost tripped on the ice while you left.

The very next place you checked was the courtyard, where Mr. Vargas liked to make you run in the blistering heat. PE was horrible. Everyone else got to be on their dumb magic brooms while you were stuck doing laps.

Mr. Vargas did like to make the boys sweat afterwards though. You got to sit on the grass and laugh at them cheer them on! Especially Ace, who always lagged behind.

Anyway, in the place of the field of green grass that your peers used to practice flying on a broom, was a field of fire. Green fire no less. At least it was still green? You stayed a distance away while you watched a group of five students try and summon water magic to help fight these flames. “If you don’t do this right, it’ll be off with your heads!” Next to them, a familiar short, red-haired boy was shouting at them and telling them what they were doing wrong.

You liked to think it wouldn't actually be off with their heads, Riddle was above that... Now. You liked to think it was just motivation to make them work harder!

Because it was mostly Heartslabyul students, it worked. "Hey! Riddle?" You called out to the boy. The Housewarden looked at you and jogged up to meet you a way away from the green flames. Was Sebek here as well? You swore you heard his voice shouting...

"You shouldn't be here. This area is off-limits to anyone outside of the Equestrian club because of the danger." Riddle crossed his arms; his tone was pretty gentle though. You nodded along to what he was saying, because it made sense.

"Crowley wants us to find the Fae doing this, do you know anything about it?" You decided to get right to the point. Riddle was busy enough as it was. He seemed to appreciate it too.

The boy glanced back at the students trying to figure out how to calm the fire and shook his head. "I think I heard a few third years mention a blur of H/C going into the school." He mentioned, you mostly knew the kid was in the school. It was one of the places Crowley wanted you to check out, Mr. Trein's class, after that you didn't really know where the kid could be.

You smiled and thanked Riddle before turning to leave, the boy glanced back at the fire before stepping a bit closer to you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "Uh- Y/N, I was wondering if you wanted to have tea with me later I-"

"Dorm leader! it's spreading!" A student shouted out, a panicked look on their face as they rushed up to the two of you. Riddle muttered something under his breath, before jogging back to the fire. To step up to calm the flames even more than what the regular student could do so you left.

“This seemed handled enough…” You muttered, a bit disappointed that you didn't get to finish your conversation with Riddle, Grim simply rolled his eyes and you two turned to leave.

You went to Mr. Trein’s classroom next. Your most boring class of twisted wonderland, history, uh... you think. Truthfully you hadn’t stayed awake long enough to know what class he taught.

It was not for lack of trying either!

He just drew out his words and spoke in just a boring robotic tone, it could put anyone to sleep! I digress. The cat: Lucius liked you too, he tended to let you sleep more while waking up other students.

Anyway, in place of the classroom was… an overgrown forest? In the center of it, you noticed a tall, well groomed, teal haired male, squatting down to examine what appeared to be a mushroom….

Obviously. it was Jade. He was part of the Mountain Lovers Club. The sole member actually if you remember right. Crowley mentioned something about the clubs handling the situations. So...

This seemed… handled-ish….

You would be taking your leave now. You closed the door silently and Grim groaned. "This is so boring." He whined, "Why do we have to do this?!" You shrugged slightly.

"Crowley said he'll give an extra allowance this week if we do this." You mumbled, "We could really use it to fix that window you broke." You reminded the cat. He huffed and glared at you a bit childishly, crossing his furry arms silently on your shoulder.

"I thought you said I could have extra tuna?" He realized, jumping off your shoulder he pointed at you in an accusatory manner; you sighed a bit.

You didn’t have time to find him right now. "We can talk about this later." You walked past him but when he didn't follow you, you turned around.

Where did Grim go...? You looked around the halls for him, "Grim?!" Didn’t he know not to wonder off while there was a threat on campus!

This fae would eat him alive!

Feeling even more motivated and slightly panicked, you ran off to find the cat and disregard the threat that was getting killed by meeting this Fae kid unarmed. Uncated? Either way.

“Someone help me!” You finally heard Grims's voice after looking for him for... quite a while actually. Pushing the door to the classroom open, you found...

Nothing.

Every potion was on its self, the stirring sticks where the usually go, nothing burned, frozen, or overgrown nothing was… well anywhere. At least anywhere out of place. “Someone, help me!” A cried out a very familiar voice squeaked out. Hesitantly, you walked closer to where you heard Grim’s voice.

This felt like something out of a horror movie.

A cauldron, inside of it was the soft glow of blue flames. No doubt caused by Grins fire ears. “Grim…?” You spoke softly. Peeking inside the steel pot, you saw a young boy, a long tail curled up beside him and one horn on the side of his head. In his arms was Grim, held tightly like he was a stuffed animal. He sniffled and then looked up at you with the most striking green eyes you’ve ever seen…

“Y/n!” Grim cried out, relief flooding his voice and breaking you from the little boy's curse of cuteness.

You plucked Grim from the kid's arms and He crawled onto your shoulders.

“Momma!” The boy, still in the cauldron yelled out, stumbling to get up and jump into your arms, get hindered by the caldron he found himself stuck in. His face was red from tears, and he looked scared… his small hands shaking with fear. He sniffled more, his chubby hands rubbing away his tears as they fell. Your heart ached slightly seeing those tears.

This can't be the same boy running amok in the school's campus. He was just so... non-threatening?

So, without a second thought. You picked the small boy up and cooed at him. Grim stared at you bewildered, His experience far more intimidating them yours.

Didn't you know how tight that boy was holding him?! Poor Grim almost didn't make it. He whined and frowned at the attention you were giving the boy.

Now, you just had to take this sweetheart to Crowley.

Either way, the small boy was absolutely adorable! Sure, he may or may not have caused this week's class cancelations but really, Ace was thanking the boy for it, so all was fine! Back at ramshackle, you realized, he was just a kid.

He was using some crayons to draw. He screamed like a bit of a brat when you tried to make him eat some broccoli you got... You thought it would be good for you and grim and neither of you ate it.

His big electric green eyes that reminded you of… someone? But who was it again? Well, it didn’t matter. The boy had green eyes, H/ced hair and these two small slightly curled horns on top of his head.

His ears were pointed just like a fae’s but just slightly? They weren’t as long nor as sharp as a regular fae’s like Lilia. It was hard to explain. It was the oddest thing- he had a tail as well! A long blackish purple one at that. And he was excellent at magic, if the destroyed campus told you anything. “Are you mad at me?” He looked up at you with teary eyes after you informed Crowley you caught him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” You asked the small boy curiously, blinking at him a bit confused at the question. His large electric green puppy eyes weren’t exactly helping you stand strong and not coddle him either.

“Because I made the rooms a mess…” he rubbed his large cheeks free from stray tears. Not that he was any good at it either, you just shook your head and kneeled to the floor, wiping them away for him.

Something about this boy made you wanted to care for him and protect him- he was just do cute. “Nonsense, you were scared. A little mess is fine as long as you weren’t hurt.” When you looked at him you felt something akin to cuteness aggression. This little fae was adorable! If Crowley didn’t find his parents, you’d take him in!

Ignore how poorly you yourself lived in ramshackle! And how much of your food was canned tuna because Grim insisted on it over actual food.

And the window that you still needed to fix and were most likely going to spend this week's allowance on...

The boy nodded, cuddling into your side like a small cuddly cat.

__________________________

He was adorable but children were a handful.

Crowley, after assigning you to catch the kid, gave you the poor child to take care of. So, you had been living with the child for three whole days.

Not to say the kid- who’s name you learned was Casper- was a handful. In fact, he was a sweetheart. He tended to shy away from things a bit, and he was a bundle of nerves sometimes.

He definitely got overwhelmed when left by himself, often resorting to crying and when he cried his magic tended to...

Anyway, Despite the amount of magic he held at his fingertip, he’d rush to you at the slightest creak of the floorboards, held onto you tightly, and hide his face in your shirt.

When it was finally time to go to school you didn’t really know what to do with the kid…? We’re you suppose to just… bring a kid to class with you? I mean, you already bring a cat, and the kid would probably be more well behaved then Grim.

So you brought Casper with you. And it was fine He was very sweet, maybe a little to shy, the teachers did love him. He introduced himself to them from behind your leg.

That was two days ago, now you were in the cafeteria. You hadn't been here in two days because, well you weren't sure if Casper would be okay around the crowd of students. Some of whom were still bitter about the Ice things... and the green fire thing.

“Fufufu, what do we have here?” Lilia popped up out of absolutely nowhere. "I heard a rumor about a trouble make~" He smirked.

“Grandpa Lilia!” The kid for once didn’t shy away. You had expected him to start crying. (He had before after all, when Jade introduced himself to the boy.) Lilia simply smiled and accepted the boy's affections, nodding along as he babbled about his day. Meanwhile, you were staring bewildered at the boy.

And... That was your lunch.

With of course, Ace and Deuce coming to keep you company while Lilia entertained Casper.

Most of your lunch you'd glance at the two. 'Grandpa Lilia?' You wondered why he was unusually not shy? He was a talkative boy to you, but with a stranger, no way... “Where Papa?” He asked looking up at the older fae with his large sparkling eyes. Oh, maybe Lilia knew the boy's parents! He was an older fae himself, right?

“Yes, good question indeed where is your papa?” Lilia asked, before he looked at you, a small smirk on his face, he looked at you like you’d know! You didn’t. You had tried to correct the kid on you being his mom before two- he cried and sulked over it for a while after that. “Well, I best be Off now!” Lilia cheered and gave you the kid back before disappearing off somewhere.

That was weird right?

You day went on- Ace and Deuce were good around the kid. Casper was pretty decent around Ace and Deuce, not too shy but he wasn't rambling like he was around Lilia. "Is something on your mind?" Deuce asked curiously, a mild layer of unwarranted concern.

"It's fine..." You shrugged, "I just hope Crowley find Caspers parents soon." You sighed, and the boy in question looked at you confused. He called you Mom and you basically took care of him, so you figured he thought you were his mom.

Not that you really minded, it wasn't like he thought you were old, fae tended to not age and stay good looking forever basically. Case in point, Lilia.

You really didn't mind, you already took care of Grim, so what's another, milder tempered Grim who didn't run away? "Speaking of the kid- Where is he?" Ace asked, looking around.

Scratch that, the kid wondered off.

"Oh no." You sighed and looked at the Adeuce duo with an exhausted look they couldn't say no too. They'd help you find the kid.

__________________________

How on earth did Sebek of all people get Casper?

Sebek, a first year in your class. Some loud guy who you got partnered up with once.

Why didn't Casper run away! You most certainly would and have. Instead, you found Casper on Sebek Zigvolt of all people's shoulders. Now you and Ace were whispering about how to get the kid back. No way you were going to go up to Sebek of all people and have to listen to his "fae are superior" speech... again.

"We should... Lure Casper away with candy." You whispered, Ace gave you a look and shot down your idea.

"Do you want to give him the impression that you should follow random people with candy?" He said looking at you like you just had the worst idea ever. "I say we just grab him and run."

"No, Sebek is faster than us." You noted, "Especially you, he runs laps past you in PE." Ace bumped your shoulder with an eyeroll.

"Where's Deuce?" Ace frowned, you watched with wide eyes as you saw Deuce confidently walk up to Sebek... "oh no." Ace groaned and run up behind Deuce.

You cursed to yourself. "We don't have to follow right...?" you asked the cat who agreed with you, but you knew you kind of had to follow them.

"Hey- Sebek." You smiled awkwardly.

"Mama!" The kid called out to you and reached out towards you. he almost fell off Sebek's shoulders- thankfully you caught him. Sebek looked at you in confusion and maybe a bit judgmentally...?

"No- he isn't..." You sighed and gave up.

"A human couldn't mother a Fae of Caspers caliber!" And so... Sebek began his rant. He started with how Lilia informed him of the situation, and he was here to lift the burden of Casper from your human shoulders.

Really, it saved you the time of informing Sebek you were in fact, not a teen mom. Also, it was weirdly insulting? Like hey, come on, you’ve taken care of him for three days! Almost four, “Casper is pretty happy with me, right sweetie?” You asked the boy who nodded hesitatingly. Wait- hesitantly? “Huh?”

Sebek looked a bit disheartened the Fae kid rejected him, but he was also kind of confused as well. “It’s just… I miss Papa, Mama…” the boys lips quivered a bit.

“No, no! You're not in trouble.” You fell to your knees to comfort the boy.

Apparently Sebek was hanging out with the child because he thought he was Malleus but something went wrong. Perhaps someone used their unique magic in the future ruler of briar valley.

Um… who’s Malleus?

________________

Day four of having a child.

Today you were going to find this kid someone who looked close enough to his dad. I mean, you apparently looked like his mom enough, so… yeah!

Also, perhaps his brother went to this school and that was how he ended up here. Finding him a dad sounded fun though.

It was a solid plan… “Casper?” You woke the boy up. You put Casper in the guest bedroom ace usually occupied when he was collared. Which was often. Even with Riddle being looser on the rules Ace always pushed sadly. “Today we’re finding your father.” You informed the boy.

“Really!” His eyes lit up. Why didn’t you do this sooner?

“Mhm, just tell me what he looks like-“ and so began Caspers rant on how amazing his father was. How he always makes time for you two even though he’s so busy, how good he was at playing superhero’s- and so on.

You didn’t even realize superhero’s existed here. Crazy. “He has black horns like me!” He grinned up at you, “oh- and black hair and we have the same eyes!” He giggled before again going on about how awesome his dad was.

“Horns, black hair, green eyes…” you mumbled, “and you're a fae, so we should probably go to Diasomnia, they have the most fae of the dorms” you smiled brightly. “This Malleus guy seems promising- and if he doesn’t want to, I’ll just make him!” You cheered and with Casper on your shoulders you were out the door!

Was it just you or was Diasomnia slightly terrifying?

Either way, with Casper on your shoulders like you were going to the zoo, you walked on the winding path with thorns around it and into the dorm. The halls were… very long and castle-like.

Eventually you found the dorm's common room. Witch had three students, only one of which was a fae. With as much confidence you could muster, you approached them. “Hello! Good evening gentlemen… Um, do you happen to know someone whom this child looks like?” You smiled and proceeded to the kid.

They very politely actually said that they think he looks like Malleus. You asked them to point you to this Malleus, and they again very politely refused. Apparently he was a busy man which was fair. But he was a father now! If casper deems him fit enough (By that you mean mistake him for his father like the boy did you.)

Still, throughout this process, you couldn't help but wonder if you were forgetting someone.

You kept glancing at Caspers horns… who else did you know with horns? “Tsunotarou! That's who you look like!” You finally realized after an embarrassingly long time. In your defense you had only met the guy once or twice while you were dealing with Leona’s stupid plan, and didn’t Leona mention Malleus during his overblot?

“That's what you call Papa!” Casper cheered, his eyes widening in awe. Okay so, either that was a common name… which you doubt or Casper had a weird background.

“Khee Khee what do we have here?” Lilia appeared out of nowhere! …again, still you jumped!

“Mama is going to find Papa today!” Casper cheered in all his three year old glory. Picking the boy up and lifting him to sit on your hit you nodded.

“Mhm! I’m going to meet this… Malleus demands he becomes Caspers father or pay child support!” You claim confidently because in reality, you were beginning to doubt the plan you came up with at 3am and woke up early for. “Tsunotarou would be a better bet but I really don’t know where that guy is… or his real name.” you muttered to yourself.

Either way, Lilia clapped and with a large smile said this: “You're in luck! Malleus just finished his breakfast and should be heading over for his morning coffee.” So, without verbally questioning why he knew that you smiled and plopped down on the common room’s chairs watching a bit nervously as Lilia wandered off again.

So… You were really dumb. Realistically this was a horrible plan bound to fail, but you already came this far.

Didn’t all your friends always comment about how scary Malleus was? Wasn’t he like one of the top mages of this world?

Okay, maybe if you didn’t come up with this plan at 3am last night you wouldn’t be so royally screwed! Hah, get it because Malleus is supposed to be some royal of… a whole nation right? Yeah, this was a bad idea.

Getting up to leave, you heard Casper cheer for his father.

“Child Of Man?”

“Tsunotarou?” You turned around, “Actually- no this is better than getting smited by some scary mage! Okay so I have been looking for… you, for a while!” You smiled, “This is our son: casper.” You introduced them.

“Papa!”

__________________

“Mm, He does look like me.” Tsunotarou hummed; he knelt beside the child, titling his head curiously as he observed the child. “Your horns are coming in nicely aren't they?” He commented with a small smile, the boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Mhm! They should be as big as yours soon!” Casper giggled.

“Your speech is also advanced for a child of your age.” The older boy smiled, It was a very touching sight actually.

“It is. Ace and Deuce have been helping me teach him some bigger stuff too.” you stated proudly as the younger boy nodded along. You sat beside where the boy stood in front of his new father. Your back against the armrest, you sat planted on the floor. “The headmage said he would be dealing with getting him back home but I have to take care of him till then.” You sighed.

“I see, so you thought to find me as I am the child's father?” Malleus asked curiously, an eyebrow raised almost teasingly.

“If you’ll believe it, yup.” You nodded along, I mean if he believes that the kid is his, why not get him to take responsibility for that sweet child support money?

“I see, so Crowley is making the proper arrangement to get you back to us in the future.”

“Wait, so he's actually my kid?” you couldn’t help but blurt out. Tsunotarou merely chuckles. “Am I dumb or are we actually like his parents?” You whispered a bit to Tsunotarou and stood up, he followed after you standing up as well.

“Mm? Crowely didn’t inform you?” he said with an amused and sly smile. “I suppose it's time anyway we get properly introduced seeing as you are my future spouse” He smirked, his hand on his hips.

“I am Malleus draconia”

__________________________

Fun Fact:

The events of this takes place after Heartslabyul’s and Savanaclaw overblot. So y/n doesn’t know Tsunotarou is Malleus.

Also, Lilia knew all along.

Also, also, I'm sorry this sucked lol

NOTE: Sorry this slightly sucked I didn't really plan to actually finish the WIP I posted it as "Forever unfinished" and people liked it so I thought I'd do this anyway!

________________________ ________________________

Some of Ya'll wanted to be Tagged: @yu-night-raven @kelsyntam @reivelmin @thisisafish123 @cheshire-kitsune @dmiqueles @ranbutler-epicsans-moon @dontmindmelove @swivi @halseyhatter @barbatoss-bitch @itslucieen @bell7duck @whatever-fanfics @ziankenvirus @blcknebula @leilakaro @sarraisme

(I'm not quite sure if I did it right but thank you for liking the WIP enough to comment and want to see another! I hope it was good, I kind of think It wasn't that good but Thats why I made it somewhat long... To compensate!)

2K notes · View notes

harrypotterheretic · 7 days ago

Text

I just want to say how much I hate the "Harry Potter is a trust fund jock who grew up to be a cop" take.

just tell me you don't understand Harry Potter. Just tell me you're too American to understand Harry Potter.

He isn't a "trust fund kid" he's a fucking orphan. It is his good luck that his parents were wealthy and that wealth has been safely stored for the past ten years but then it is his incredible bad luck that his parents were murdered and he was sent to live in an abusive household where he was clothed in hand me downs and never given enough to eat. So - you know - swings and roundabouts.

Harry did not grow up with privilege. He just happens to have enough money that he doesn't have to worry about buying school supplies.

He isn't a "jock". Because a jock is an American concept. School sports are really not a big deal in the UK (as clearly seen by the way they just cancel Quidditch - twice - with barely a shrug). The athletes on school teams don't wield social power because of their place on the team and there will be no scholarships allowing them higher education. There are no stereotypes around the type of kids who play the sports, no idea that they're all "dumb" and only good at whatever it is they play but are getting preferential treatment because of their talent. They don't date the cheerleaders (we don;t have cheerleaders) they're not the popular kids, or the rich kids. They can be any kid. School sports are just another extra curricular activity that any student might or might not take part in as the fancy takes them.

Quidditch is just a hobby that Harry happens to enjoy.

If you wanted some kind of obnoxious sportsman equivalence, you could say Harry was a "rugger bugger"... but he really isn't. He doesn't fit that stereotype at all.

"Jock" is a concept which fits neither the character nor the culture. It is an entirely futile and inaccurate prism through which to view Harry and means you cannot understand him if you insist on enforcing your own cultural labels and stereotypes on him.

And he didn't grow up to be a "cop". FFS. he grew up to be a Dark Wizard catcher. Again, there is a lot of cultural imperialism misunderstanding going on here when people on the internet talk about cops in relation to HP. The relationship the British have with their police is very different to the one the Americans have with theirs. British police are unarmed (apart from specially trained officers, whose job is to be the armed response unit and who most people will never encounter). They "police by consent" - and that is genuinely important to the officers themselves. Are they popular? No. But are they widely seen as a fascistic force murdering citizens? Also no - because (by and large) they're not.

They wear funny helmets, and sometimes ride horses, and work in the community.

The entire social structure of the USA is so different to the UK that it is impossible to just transplant a concept from the US and assume it will work for the UK. But the American lack of a welfare state, the war on drugs and the insane amount of guns in the hands of private citizens and police mean that the relationship between the two is shaped in such a way that crime is driven by poverty, crimes of poverty are dealt with much more harshly than they need to be, and the police feel empowered to kill (mostly black) people just because they looked at them funny. The police are the enemy.

But if this is your understanding of "cops" then you need to leave it at the door when you engage with British media. It's a totally different culture.

And within a culture of "policing by consent", it is possible to imagine a fantasy law enforcement office that is made up entirely of good guys, who hunt down only bad guys - the type who kill for fun. And that they do it justly and humanely (because that is what the police are supposed to be, even if they fall short in every corner of the world).

This is what the aurors are under Kingsley Shacklebolt's Ministry. They catch dark wizards - the type who kill people for fun. And they use the power of the wizarding state to arrest them and put them on trial.

Harry had no time for the Ministry when it was corrupt. He spoke out about them arresting the wrong people. he refused to work with them when the Minister himself asked for his support.

Harry Potter does not become a mindless "cop".

But in the aftermath of a brutal blood war, once the Ministry is run by someone he trusts, he joins up to clear up the last of the Death Eaters and stays to make sure it doesn't happen again. People rail against the fact that the system is not upended totally at the end of the books, and the Harry preserves the status quo - but that's just silly. You can't just tear down a system and hope for the best. Nature abhors a vacuum, and something worse would rise in its place. Harry is putting in the hard work (the real and necessary work) to clean up an imperfect system and make it work the way it is supposed to. He's making actual, possible changes that help make his world better and safer. That's far more radical, and far more useful, than the armchair anarchism of those who criticise his career path.

So please stop with the bad takes which not only show that you have no understanding or respect for the books, but that you have no understanding or respect for the culture they hail from or understanding and respect that the whole world doesn't live the way you do.

If you are the type of person who says "Harry Potter is a trust fund jock who becomes a cop" then literally nothing else you have to say about Harry Potter is going to be worth listening to. Because you just don't understand Harry Potter. The character or the series.

#bad harry potter takes #just stop #jk rowling

275 notes · View notes

revivemyreverie · 2 months ago

Text

SKETCH SSR: WISHMASTER’S CONCERT

CREDITS: Wishmaster's Concert Event : @tixdixl, Cyril Zeman (mentioned in story): @ramshacklerumble. I consider following both of them if you haven't already!!!

This event is crazy fun and I cannot believe I finished in under 3 days. anyhow! A short story is under read more :)

Groovification: Such frivolities–this kind voice, warm smile, and upturned brows– none of it has ever been real.

Set to Home Screen: Would you like to hear a tune?

Home Transition 1: Are we moving stages? I’ll follow as you desire.

Home Transition 2: My past self would “love” being here, I’m sure. Even if I no longer hold the emotions that came with those memories, the knowledge of how many times he used this violin is logical proof.

Home Transition: 3: These light choices are quite interesting. You usually expect something more refined when it comes to violin performances, but I suppose the inclusion of guitars and death metal muddles that.

Home, after Login: Ashengrotto said this event is in the best interest for both of us, but I am very sure I heard him saying he’s finally rid of me the other day… Is that what you refer to as “disdain"?

Tap Home 1: These clothes are not very optimal, since I cannot move much except the sleeves. I do not mind any of it, however, since I can still make quick movements with my bowstring.

Tap Home 2: I’ve heard it's good to deviate music choices every once in a while for experience, so perhaps adding a few songs into my usual classical music may be good for me.

Tap Home 3: I try to avoid bumping into my bandmates when on stage, as it would be rather terrible if my magic activated mid-performance... A husk might end up singing on stage instead of a person.

Tap Home 4: I’m quite shocked by the people who enjoyed my performance, seeing that I had failed to remember to smile. Those in the crowd even said I looked mysterious. Emotions are such an odd thing.

Tap Home 5: Logically, none of this really matters. All these people do is sit through a bunch of flashy lights while listening to sounds mixed and mashed together through ear-damaging speakers. Still, I partake in it, for I want to understand the past “me”’s love for it.

🎙️.

“I don’t care if it's to show off the school’s music prowess! My Abyssal Lover will not be working with the jerk that broke the head singer's and his boyfriend up!”

Such is the common complaint Allegra has been facing as of late by the head-singer of a little band made in Night Raven College, who the former had the delight of joining thanks to his dorm leader’s so-called recommendation (it was forced, but Allegra's not allowed to say a word on it).

In his eyes, he had done nothing of what he had been accused of. All Allegra Mahalath had done was help a client and pull a little bit of an emotional possession with his magic. How was it his fault if he revealed that someone was having second thoughts about their relationship? Logically speaking, the singer should have just discussed this nonsensical problem from the get-go.

He might get a punch for such words, however, so the man stayed silent with his usual smile. Their manager spoke in his place, “YOU’RE the one who said anyone would do for our sick violinist, and I’m already in good-standing with Azul! I’m just taking advantage of the situation, so how about you get over yourself and move on?! Do you really want to throw away the chance to impress THE Cyril Zeman?!!”

The Octavinelle student watched his new nemesis remain silent.

“Then stop complaining and start rehearsing! And Allegra,I know you’re good at the violin, but our set also has some more... dramatic... parts in it. Please try your best.”

The therapist kept his demeanor the same. “As you wish, manager.”

—-----

The singer wondered if Allegra had a best to begin with, or was just trying to piss him off. He was awful at acting entirely, his motions being so stiff and short that he looked like a robot compared to the whisking twirls and light steps everyone else had managed to do. His only saving grace was his violin, which somehow made Allegra look far more graceful than the mannequin he turned into when he wasn't playing.

“If you can't bother to dance right, then how about taking off that tacky customer-service smile?” He complained after their 5th rehearsal and failure of an act.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Allegra speaks like one of Ignihyde's new robots. “but if it’s not up to par, I’ll change it.”

“Are you a human? I meant to use your real smile.”

Allegra pokes at his own cheeks, “But this is my real smile? It’s the same one I use everyday, even for my clients. I thought you would understand, seeing as you even had a previous session with me–”

The last sentence seemed to have switched something in the young man. With a aggressive yell, he gets up and grabs the spiral-eyed student's shirt

“Say a thing about my stupid session from that day and I’ll break your nose!"

The other band members ran between them, splitting the two apart to avoid a big fight. The singer clicked his tongue in return, turning to the classroom's door.

“I need a damn break.”

Allegra watched as he walked out, his temporary band mates surrounding him. A silence filled the room, yet the smile on his face remained sweet as always.

—-------

“Do you have an issue with me?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

The vocalist and violinist sat alone in the makeup room, their group having already departed for set preparations and to avoid the ever-growing storm between the two students.

“You’ve shown a great amount of physical hostility towards me.” Allegra spoke with such niceties, “I would love to know why.”

“Oh I’m sure you would.” Sarcasm came up like vomit. “You’re an ass who ruined my goddamn love life, and now I’m expected to work with you and your weirdo facade.”

“Facade?”

The vocalist slammed his hands on the table, tired of dealing with him for the past 3 weeks. “Yes! Facade! You think everyone just takes your little goody-two-shoes employee act as fact? Everyone in the band knows it's all either a cover for you being a creep or that you just hate everyone in the world!”

Allegra turned away from him, looking outside the door’s window. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“Cut the crap! That’s a lie itself!”

“Would you like to hear the truth about me then?” Allegra says, his voice suddenly ice cold.

He turns back to the lead-singer, his face lacking all signs of emotion.

“Such frivolities–this kind voice, warm smile, and upturned brows– none of it has ever been real.”

This is the true Allegra Mahalath, the one who put no effort into any relationships he was expected to care for. The vocalist looked into those empty, spiraling eyes, which grow closer with every step the brunette takes towards him.

“You’re correct, as I am simply playing the part of a false me. In my eyes, anything and everything holds no meaning; Allegra Mahalath doesn’t care for this event, nor its people, or its problems. The same can be said for my clients and their relationships, especially yours." He stated it all so matter-of-factly, as if there truly was nothing inside his heart. "It's most fitting to say that I can't seem to care about anything.”

A shiver ran down the singer’s spine. “...Then why are you even here?"

“Because I want to understand why the past ‘me’ did.”

The announcer’s voice could be heard through the loudspeaker, cutting off their confrontation with the calling of their band's name.

"Next up, from the dark corners of Night Raven College itself, is My Abyssal Lover!"

Allegra’s monotone demeanor remained as cheers could be heard echoing from the crowd. “It’s officially stage time, I kindly suggest you hurry up.”

—-----

“Look! We got put in the event’s article!” The team’s manager exclaimed, showing off his phone to the group. “They even got a photo of you, Mahalath!”

The brunette takes a look at the article presented in front of him, reading the text with a feigned interest.

“Oh. Oops.”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It appears I forgot to smile during the set.”

For the rest of the band, it seemed like a well-timed joke. They laughed at another one of Allegra's supposed oddities. Only the vocalist remained silent in the classroom’s corner, understanding exactly what the Octavinelle student meant.

#“why is it called sketch its obvs refined”#there is a lack. of usual rev care #so #sketch.#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twst fanevent #Wishmaster's Concert #twst #allegra mahalath

277 notes · View notes

girlsworldillusion · 2 months ago

Text

I'll fake it until you give up (or will it be me?)

Final part

Part one > here

Ravenclaw!Barty - Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: The five times Barty tried to hint at a relationship with you, being actively blocked in the process, and the one time you were the one who did it.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Ella's Notes: This was originally a one shot, but since I have no self-control, I created a monster of more than 20k, so I divided this story into two parts. I strongly advise you to read the first part if you haven't already, or you won't understand anything here. (I had Maxence Danet-Fauvel in mind while writing Barty, but of course you can imagine him however you like)

Happy reading!

Word count: 15k

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

iv.

The Slytherins knew how to throw a good party.

Obviously they would need to tie you up and force a liter of veritaserum down your throat before you would admit that out loud. But you suppose it was safe to admit it to yourself.

The low beat of the music blasts into your ears in just the right way, a sensual, enveloping bass that has you subtly moving your hips before you even realize you're doing it. The green-hued floating candles and silver and black decor cast purposefully mysterious shadows across the sweaty bodies that excitedly crowded the dance floor. A near-suffocating amount of cigarette and whatever crap the students were smoking swirled through the air in almost hypnotic spirals - you don't know how, but they managed to make even this explicitly school-banned act (not to mention the fact that it's highly harmful to health) seem cool here.

There was a kind of absolute, yet elegant, chaos at Slytherin parties that you didn’t see in other houses. Definitely not in Gryffindor, where there was usually only the chaos part.

They made drinks stronger than any other house, true, but that wasn’t a bad thing - at least not tonight. After the absolutely awkward and intimate moment you’d shared with Crouch a few nights ago, drinking yourself into oblivion was exactly what you needed.

And so you were doing.

The thing was so strong that you were only on the second glass and already your body felt light and your mind relaxed, the happy confusion of drunkenness already taking over your thoughts. It didn’t help that the glasses were charm to refill as the drink dwindled.

You were tipsy enough to find the dramatic antics Sirius was pulling with James and Remus across the room quite amusing, finally pulling the wands out of their arses to enjoy themselves in a green and silver party.

Unfortunately, however, you weren't drunk enough to stand Lockhart's presence. Honestly, you were completely convinced that there was no level of drunkenness that reached such parameters.

"...and then I spotted the golden snitch right there, wandering restlessly through the pouring rain with its fragile little wings. Of course, without me, they would have lost that match. The seeker was so confused that you could say the poor boy had been hit by an errant bludger. Oh, if it hadn't been for me..."

The man was so self-centered and vain that it made you want to stick your nails in your own ear canals and rip them out so you wouldn't have to hear him anymore.

"That's very interesting, Lockhart, but -" You try, with a lame excuse on the tip of your tongue to disappear from that place. But of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"Gilderoy, my dear. I already told you that you can call me Gilderoy." He interrupts you with a grin that’s bright enough to light up the entire castle, winking at you as if he’s granting you a Order of Merlin by allowing you to use his name.

“Okay…Gilderoy,” you grin, “as I was saying, your stories are really interesting, but I promised Mary I’d find her and—”

“Oh, but why would you? Aren’t we having a good time here?” Apparently, interrupting is another one of his annoying quirks, because he’s doing it again. But this time in a rather direct manner.

“Huh—” you sigh as he forces you to flatten yourself against the wall to put some space between your bodies, advancing towards you with a catlike gaze and a big, stupid grin on his mouth.

“Do you know how many girls would beg to be in your place right now, honeybun? You must know by now how sought after I am…” His voice is something artificially friendly and seductive, so ridiculous that you want to laugh in response. But you're too frozen in place to do anything like that.

And it's not because Lockhart is someone who inspires any fear. Merlin knows the man doesn't have a single threatening bone in his body. It's just the sudden proximity, his considerable height shadowing yours, and his poor and unwanted flirting - and maybe the exorbitant and unnecessary amount of alcohol the slytherins put in those damn drinks is making you vulnerable after all.

The fact is that you feel cornered in a totally unpleasant and unexpected way. And that makes you freeze for a moment, not knowing how to react.

"Uh, what do you say? How about we have some fun?" He moves a little closer, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath wafting across your forehead, making your fingers press the glass until it feels like you could crush it.

"Lockhart."

A voice sounds behind the two of you, loud enough to be heard even over the low chords of the music, and you know who it is before you even see him, but Gilderoy still cranes his neck to find out who interrupted him at such an inopportune moment.

Inopportune for him, of course. For you it was a more than convenient moment.

"I'm surprised to find you here. I thought you were at the competition back there." Barty comments disinterestedly as raises the cigarette to his lips, looking at you over Gilderoy's shoulder with an appraising and intense look before turning back to the man.

"Competition?" Of course that's the key word to pique Lockhart's interest, making him take a few steps away from you as if you were nothing more than a background now, approaching Barty with a curious look while peering between the students with a raised eyebrow. "What kind of competition?"

"Something about who's the finest guy in our year or something stupid like that..." Barty smiles sharply and sarcastically, clearly disdaining the man's self-centered behavior, but Gilderoy doesn't even blink twice at his condescension. Honestly, you still have trouble understanding how someone as obtuse as Gilderoy Lockhart had been sorted into Ravenclaw. "The girls have already started voting."

The blond is already walking away from the two of you before the sentence is even complete, barely deigning to wave over his head as he shouts a 'talk to you later, honeybun.' A promise you hope will never come true.

Even when he disappears into the crowd of students, Barty still stands there; smoking his cigarette while staring at you with an irritating and very satisfied smile on the corner of his lip, winking gallantly at you with his left eye. He looks very proud of himself; with his stupid black jeans and boots, a gray shirt and a brown coat over it. His amber-toned hair is, as always, a total disaster, wisps of soft, unruly hair sticking out in every direction, as if he didn't even know there was such a thing as a hairbrush.

“You’re ridiculous, Crouch.” You roll your eyes, finally relaxing enough to go back to sipping your firewhiskey.

He grins wider.

“What? It was either that or hex that weasel face until he realizes he’s not to approach you like that ever again, princess. I assumed you’d prefer a more peaceful path. You know, because of all this gryffindor honor nonsense and stuff. Was I wrong?”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing. But the words lodge deep, nestling somewhere warm in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. So you do what you do best: push them away, hide them behind walls, blindfolds to keep yourself blind to what is already obvious, separated from words that could answer the only question that matters.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” You grumble sourly over the rim of your glass—though you feel undeniably relieved now that he’s shooed the inconvenient man away. But your faithful commitment to keeping Barty away and your absolute embarrassment over the last encounter still weigh on your mind, making you defensive. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“I know.” He winks, but makes no move to leave.

Neither of you says anything else after that, and the only relief you have left comes from the fact that you’re both apparently willing to pretend the incident from the other night never happened. But in the absence of a conversation, since you certainly won't be the one to bring up any subject, you find yourself with no other choice but to keep staring at him with narrowed eyes that basically scream at him to get some sense and get the hell out of your sight. And of course he remains blissfully unfazed by such obvious signs of hostility, smoking his cigarette as if he doesn't owe you anything, as if he's not the cause of your nerves being frayed lately.

Merlin, he irritates you so much. The white flag you had raised that night is definitely down once again.

And it's in the midst of these silent thoughts of hatred, and since you vehemently refuse to be the first to look away, that you find yourself observing with a certain and very unwanted level of interest the way he smokes. Which, logically and once again, he absolutely shouldn't be doing - your Head Girl vein is throbbing in your forehead. But even you can't deny the kind of hypnotic allure in the way he blows the cloud of smoke through his lips, the soft, hazy curtain that escapes through his nostrils - like a dragon lazily exhaling its smoke through its nose.

Barty, like the inconvenient watcher that he's, has already noticed your reluctant interest and decides to put on a little show now that he has an audience.

You blink suspiciously as he parts his lips in a curious little 'o', a perfectly flawless circle of smoke blowing into the air with the movement. The smoky circle spins on its axis, expanding into a larger and larger quivering ring as it moves away from his lips, until it naturally dissolves into a blurry cloud that dissipates into the air.

The whole thing holds your attention to the point that you barely remember he's still there, eyes blinking rapidly as you finally focus on the boy once more. He smiles, proud and satisfied, and you feel your cheeks burning with the sheer heat of embarrassment as realize there's absolutely nothing you can say right now to save yourself from the very obvious stare you're giving him.

So of course you go ahead and do the next stupidest thing you can. Damn slytherins and their abnormally strong firewhiskeys.

"Show me what it's like."

He arches his thick eyebrows at you, blue gaze shining with something you can barely decipher against the dim green of the room.

"What's it like...?"

"Smoking, obviously." You wave a hand at the cigarette in his fingers, adopting a nonchalant attitude to try to cover up your own embarrassment. Not that Barty is buying it, anyway. "There must be something extraordinary about it, since every time we meet you have one of those in your mouth. So come on, show me what I've been missing all this time."

It's a half-truth, you suppose. Although your request was only made for lack of something better and more intelligent to say, you had indeed caught yourself once or twice ruminating about the man's harmful habits. You had noticed that he would alternate between smoking regular cigarettes and roll a joint with his friends - there was no doubt that his lungs must be screaming for help by now. And there was a certain curiosity in you to know what made someone as young and apparently healthy as him give in to such vices. What demons did he face to resort to such a thing as an escape?

Of course, Barty Crouch Jr would never be the sensible person who would try to use logic and common sense to stop someone from diving headfirst into a vice that could very well ruin their good habits - and lungs, in this case. So, with a mischievous smile and a level of ease that should be at least worrying in fulfilling your request, he is approaching you.

He's much taller than Lockhart, you think immediately, with your cheeks heating up when he positions himself right in front of you, making you lean against the wall instinctively, your head tilting back so you can maintain eye contact. This is the first sign of the huge mistake you had made in making this request.

Even in the common room as crowded as it is, smelling of sweat, weed, sex and alcohol - you can still smell him, as close as you are. A rich, woody scent of some expensive cologne, the same one you smelled that night. The distant, soft notes of something refreshing and clean, like eucalyptus or mint leaves. And smoke, of course, embedded in every bit of him.

He blinks slowly at your open-mouthed expression, his teasing little smug softening into a gentler, less cheeky one.

"Are you sure?"

You huff, rolling your eyes as answer him.

"Of course I am, Crouch. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't."

Your voice is more breathless than you'd like, heart beating fast in your chest at the man's proximity. Which only gets worse when he rests his forearm on the wall, just above your head, leaning his body even further towards you as he makes you look at him once more.

"Okay." He says slowly, rolling the word around on his tongue like a caramel. He’s so close now that you can see how long and dark his eyelashes are, the green lighting around him shadowing and casting an enigmatic tone in his pale blue eyes, unsettlingly locked on yours. He certainly doesn’t need to be this close to do what you’ve asked, and to be honest, you can’t say why you haven’t pushed him away yet. His presence overwhelms you and makes you tense, though definitely not in the same way that Lockhart did. Barty makes you feel hyperaware of yourself, of every inch of your body; makes you notice the erratic pattern of your breathing and the rapid beating of your heart, makes you feel the heat creeping across your skin with embarrassment and something else. Something else…

He holds your gaze as he lifts the cigarette to your half-open mouth, resting the tip on your bottom lip like you’re a damn ashtray.

"Close your lips around it gently, doe," he whispers, close enough to you that you can hear him even over the beat of the music around you rattling the walls. You do as he says, round eyes locked with his as you delicately seal your lips around the cigarette. "That's it, just like that." He compliments you with a lazy, satisfied lift of the left corner of his lip, his blue gaze glistening with something sweet and sticky, like molasses. "Now suck a gentle breath around it, real slow so you don't choke - hey, hey, slow, sweetie, no rush." He interrupts you with a low chuckle as you inflate your lungs like you're about to dive into the Black Lake, bracing yourself to inhale with far more eagerness than you should, absolutely distraught at what's happening. What these instructions, in that damned husky, low tone he's using, remind you of.

You’re sure there’s no need for such an intimately detailed tutorial when he could just tell you to put the damn cigarette in your mouth and inhale. But the way he’s doing it, your head is spinning and spinning with unwanted thoughts and you find yourself bitterly regretting asking for this in the first place, wanting nothing more than to get it over with so you can hide from him – preferably for the rest of your life.

You nod to let him know you understand, relaxing your body as best you can given the bizarre situation, sucking in a careful breath around the tip of the cigarette.

Even with his gentle and slow guidance, when the bitter, acrid taste of tobacco first slides down your throat, you find yourself unable to hold back the sudden wave of coughing that brings it on. Your eyes immediately widen and water and your throat closes up, body leaning forward as you feel like you might actually choke on it if you don’t start coughing right now.

"Shhh, it's okay..." Barty cups the back of your head in his broad palm, fingers stroking your hair as you bury your face in his coat, body shaking with the violent coughing fit that rips from your throat. "You did good, princess."

You feel like you could hex him.

"I-I did good?! Are you crazy, Crouch? Can't you see that - uh, fuck - I'm almost dying here?" You agonize against his chest, your voice rough with the hellish burning in your throat and lungs, eyes red and swimming with tears, a mess of smoke escaping from your nostrils and mouth as you speak, as if it don't quite know where to go.

You feel him smile widely as he rests his lips on the top of your head. And if you weren't completely focused on holding back the violent tremors of coughing and trying to stop yourself from crying like a little baby, you would have noticed the similarity of this contact with what had happened the other night. You would also have noticed how intimate you both are for anyone to see. Your smaller body curled up against his, his mouth in your hair as he murmurs reassuring words and smiles, one of his hands holding the cigarette away while the other slides down your back in comforting movements.

You pull away enough to lift your head to him, ready to give him a long and very rude lecture about how harmful it certainly was to anyone's lungs and that, now that you had tried it, you could state with complete certainty how insane he's for enjoying such a thing. But you don't.

Because instead of doing exactly that, you are suddenly too busy staring at the green lights flashing against his honey-colored hair, the blue depths of his eyes narrowed with sincere joy, the blatant softness in the wide smile he flashes at you.

Your lips part as you realize, with absolute shock, that you want to wrap your arms around his shoulders once more, to cling to him and feel the beat of his heart against your chest so that you know that you are both alive, together. You want to thread your fingers through that messy hair and feel if the strands are as soft as its look, you want it, you want it...

Merlin-

You want to kiss him.

And worst of all, you are so sure that Barty can see it, as if it is seeping out of you like red ink on white parchment.

You stumble back silently from the force of your own thoughts, giving him one last stunned look before stumbling through the sweaty crowd of dancing students towards the exit.

As soon as you are outside the Slytherin common room, you take a deep, shuddering breath. The knowledge that the world looks different now settles on your shoulders like a heavy, unbearable cloak.

You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it’s not just that Barty is attractive and annoyingly persistent.

It’s that you care about him.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

The weather was lovely.

Hogwarts, in general, offered the best backdrops and visual aesthetics, in yout opinion. No matter the season and whatever mood you was in, there was always something enchanting about the weather around the school. But even by Hogwarts standards, the scene that had unfolded was stunning.

The afternoon was sunny just right; enough so that, although the sun was shyly hiding behind some gray, fluffy clouds, it still sent its rays through them in an almost ethereal manner - casting fragments of golden light into the air and onto the ground beneath your feet that were absolutely mesmerizing. And, in an unusual and breathtaking fusion, the icy drops of a rain that had begun without any prior warning fell endlessly from the sky, glistening against the golden background like countless ice crystals.

The scene was beautiful. Breathtaking, like something out of the pages of an adventure tale.

That's why you didn't understand why there was only you out there, with your arms wide open in the air and body spinning around and around as you smiled like an idiot in the rain.

The students were running from the gardens as soon as the first cold drops started falling from the sky, entering the castle so quickly that you could say they were made of sugar if you didn't know better. But it would be their loss, in the end. Only someone very sad about life or indifferent to true beauty wouldn't enjoy this moment for what it really is. A gift.

Your laughing and joyful spin is slowly interrupted when you notice a figure standing under a tree. You don't need more than a single glance to know who it is.

Barty has his hands in the pocket of his uniform pants, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up at the elbows, a blue tie sloppily around his neck. His hair is as chaotic as ever. He's smiling, although not his usual crooked and teasing smile. He smiles softly, like someone who truly appreciates what he sees.

Your brows furrow softly when you realize he’s just standing there, staring at you from a far corner of the gardens. It confuses you for a moment, since he’s never had a problem approaching you before, certainly. But this time there’s something almost hesitant in the anxious swaying of his body as he clearly struggles to stay still, in the measured gleam in his blue gaze. As if he’s afraid of interrupting something, ruining a perfect moment.

You gaze contemplatively at the golden sky once more, lips parted in a long sigh.

When you turn your attention back to the man, you do so accompanied by a nod of your chin, subtly indicating that it’s okay to approach.

Barty doesn’t need a second prompt. Before you can even follow, he’s already in front of you: one moment his unruly hair is dry and protected from the rain, the next the light brown strands cling to his forehead, darkening a few shades, the icy drops running down its length until trail down the curved bridge of his nose. You blink at him, at his sudden proximity. And despite your heart racing in your chest, you don’t try to pull away this time.

It’s with butterflies in your stomach and strangely shaky hands that you realize you don’t want to pull away this time.

“What are you doing?” He smiles, looking a little pathetic all wet like that, like a scalded cat. A joint rolled methodically and tucked in the crook of his left ear (also soaked from the rain now), a jagged, swollen cut on his lower lip from some recent fight he got into and didn’t bother to heal with magic. It’s annoying how he’s still absolutely charming to the eye like this.

“I’m dancing in the rain,” you sigh, even though you’re no longer moving a single muscle in your body, with bright eyes and a smile so vulnerable that it pushes you straight onto the list of the most silly people you’ve ever met.

And the worst part is that you can’t even care much about it now.

He smiles wider at you, coming so close that you have to look up to maintain eye contact. And what a beautiful smile he has - so cheerful and open that little dimples form on his cheeks. Around you the rain continues to fall without stopping, crystal clear drops against a golden background that reflects directly in the clear blue of Barty's eyes, in the enviable length of his eyelashes...

Neither of you say anything else after that. There's no need. The whole scenario, straight out of a cheesy cliché that would make you vomit under any other circumstances, contributes to this moment moving in one direction. It's truly inevitable that your bodies will come closer, that the smile will diminish to something more intense and raw on both your lips, that your eyes will shine with unspoken whispers.

Barty lifts a hand to tuck a strand of your soaked hair behind your ear. You blink up at him as you feel the rain weighing your uniform. Feel it dripping down your hair and down your back. Feel it pooling in your socks and shoes. The rain is everywhere, covering you completely, and it should be uncomfortable, but it’s dulling all your senses. The rain and Barty Crouch Junior.

Tension blooms between the two of you in the silence that follows, his eyes actively searching yours before slowly dropping to your mouth. Both of you remembering what happened at that Slytherin party - what almost happened. He breathes and you move with him, letting one hand palm his soaked chest with a shaky exhale as his head dips lower, your wet, cold noses gently touching, a prelude that makes you yearn as if you can already taste him on your tongue.

“Please don’t push me away this time,” he murmurs and you gasp at the almost desperate plea in his voice, heart fluttering in your chest like the wings of a golden snitch. And within seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours.

It’s initially cold and slippery from the rainwater when his lips finally meet yours. A soft, gentle kiss on your parted, ever-indecisive lips. His fingers slide across your wet cheeks and you cling to his shoulders, feeling the soaked fabric of his shirt.

Barty tilts his head then, deepening the kiss, his mouth sliding so easily against yours that it’s as if he’s done it before. And though still wet, the inside of his mouth molding to yours is so warm and soft, and it’s making the dull ache in your chest dissipate.

Barty is a very good kisser, with the practice he’s obviously had, but you’re also good at following through, despite the lack of it. His kiss tastes like saliva and mint and the lingering weed from his joint and it’s so, so good, good enough that you think you could get high from it alone. You don’t hesitate before kissing him back, gripping his shirt tighter as you balance on your tiptoes, struggling to find purchase where the fabric is clinging to his skin. But Barty helps you, even as he’s kissing you like he’s been craving it for ages. His other hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer as he supports you with his tall, lean body, deepening the kiss with a confidence that makes your knees weak.

Your hands fist tightly in his shirt as his thumb continues to stroke your cheek, and you can’t help the shy sound that escapes you when he gently catches your bottom lip between his teeth with a playful tug before sucking it into his mouth again. Your tongue languidly slides across the bloody cut on his lip, soothing the wound, and it’s his turn to groan into your mouth, a vibrant rumble that starts straight in his throat and dies on your lips.

Another thick cloud of rain approaches, cold drops hitting your back, sticking your clothes to your skin even more. Neither of you cares about it, the rumble of thunder is distant to the east, the rays of the sun still bright above the horizon. The rain runs down your cheeks and between the panting gaps of your lips as you kiss, a different taste on Barty’s minty tongue.

With your hands tangled in his soaked shirt and neck, you kiss for what feels like hours. Any doubts about whether or not the two of you were compatible are completely trampled by now - considering the natural way you both fit together as you kiss. Dizzy from the smell of wet earth around the castle and the hints of Barty’s woody cologne, you sigh as you let the kisses naturally fade to something softer.

With a slow brush against your parted lips, Barty pulls his mouth away from yours, both of you breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. He’s still holding you, one arm around your waist and the other hand on your cheek, his body leaning over you, and your hands still firmly anchored on his broad shoulders. You try to speak a few times, your lips trembling where they’re brushing over his, and Barty can’t help but smile softly, stealing another kiss as if he can’t resist your cute nonsense.

The warm feeling in your chest makes you smile back, a weak one, trying to hold back the tears that have come without you even realizing it. And you look at him, at those eyes bluer than the blue of the sky, at the satisfied and hopeful smile on his lips. Lips soft and swollen with the kisses he gave you. And your heart calls to him, screaming silently and meaninglessly, in ecstasy and confusion.

The feeling of that irregular call in your chest, combined with the awe of seeing someone look more charming than anyone would consider fair... it was akin to falling in love. And it should have been obvious all along, it should have been. But you've spent so long pretending, so long building walls and barricades to keep yourself protected behind them, that now you don't know how to let them down.

You don't know how to let yourself feel, no matter how much you want to. And Merlin, you do.

It's obvious that you don't want to leave this silent sanctuary any time soon, but you remove your hands from his shoulders anyway. Press your lips against his cold, wet cheek one last time as let the fire die down with a breath of reality.

"No..." he whispers wetly when he notices your pull away, his smile dying and his gaze darkening to something so open and raw, almost betrayed, as he watches you stumble back.

You feel yourself breaking a little at this, because you know you did what he asked you not to do. But the truth is, you don't know how to do it differently. How not to ruin everything. Because that's what you do, always. Ruin everything. And you did it again; you masterfully ruined what was a beautiful afternoon at Hogwarts. All because you don't know how to feel anything good without panicking.

But maybe it was better this way. If you acted like it never happened, then you wouldn't have to think about it anymore. Barty was someone so special, so open with his feelings. He certainly deserved better than a constipated emotional person like you. He would realize that soon enough. And soon, to him, you would be nothing more than a forgotten memory. Everything would be okay. Yeah, right.

(And the fact that you couldn't even believe your own lie at that moment doesn't surprise you as much as it should.)

v + i

It's like you're promptly short-circuiting, not believing you're actually doing this. You can't believe you're actually going to do this. Maybe after this humiliation, you can run away to a faraway place and hide, preferably on the other side of the world.

"We need to talk, Crouch."

You burst through the dorm door with the strength of a hurricane, the determination of a warrior and the red cheeks of a sinner. In your silent desperation the door is pushed open and thrown with such force that it bounces off the opposite wall with a dramatic thud and almost hits you in the face again, making you wince and want to sink into the floor as you hold it.

Barty, as you learned through top secret sources, was right there, lounging in his dorm; leaning against the headboard, with one leg folded over the other. In his hands an open and empty box of Chocolate Frogs. His eyes widen at your bombastic entrance, freezing with the candy rolling on his tongue as if he’s been caught committing a serious infraction, sending you the most ridiculous and cute grimace you’ve ever seen on a man.

It’s out of sheer embarrassment at your own theatrical eagerness that you look away, staring at the blue curtains dotted with endless constellations of stars surrounding the beds and windows, the shelves crammed with books. And since there’s no such thing as the rest of the just, as your gaze wanders you realize that you’re not the only ones in the room—as the top secret sources had assuredly claimed.

Evan fucking Rosier of all people is lounging on the bed across the room, so naturally you’d think it was his. His eyebrows are raised, obviously surprised by your entrance as well, but he recovers much faster than Barty.

Just to wipe the smirk off his face, you almost threaten to give him detention for simply being there; well past curfew and in a dormitory that isn't even his own house to begin with. And you almost do. Until you remember that you absolutely shouldn't be in Ravenclaw Tower either, Head Girl or not - especially when it's not even your patrol night.

Rosier looks away from yours at his friend with an outrageous dose of mischief in his eyes, a cheeky smile that doesn't hide any of his thoughts. Which makes you remember that you only put up with the guy and his horrible behavior because he's Pandora's brother, whom you loved with all your heart. Merlin knows you would have punched the slytherin in the face already if that weren't the case.

You send him your most piercing look as gather what's left of your dignity into a fragile (but proud) bundle.

"Alone."

Evan folds his hands behind his head and sprawls comfortably against the pillow (which isn't his), showing that he was more than comfortable there, with no apparent reason to leave.

"Are you sure about that, beautiful? I think it would be much more fun if I stayed right where I am." He winks mischievously at you, a smile too big on his lips, teasing you and your obvious embarrassment as if he were earning a few good galleons with it. "Maybe you'll find out that you like a threesome..."

These men and their attitudes. You were already fed up with all of them!

With the blood boiling in your veins and an insatiable desire to frustrate him in the best way possible, you take a deep breath before looking at him with as much feigned innocence as you can muster at the moment.

"Oh, how did you guess?" The question is punctuated with a sigh of theatrical exaggeration, letting your eyes shine as you walk over to the bed and extend your hand to him in invitation.

The abrupt change in your mood would be comical and taken very lightly by anyone, but Evan accepts it much more easily than you could have imagined - albeit with a wavering smile, trying to understand what exactly was happening. You let him hold your hand as he stand up, his tall body towering over yours.

As you hold his gaze, you take a few delicate steps back, guiding him towards the exit without him even noticing. Men.

You lean into him a little as you whisper:

"Actually, that would be my dream come true."

"R-really?" He stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly, his electric blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Despite your frazzled nerves, you bite your lip to hold back your laughter as realize how easy it could be to fool him, but you still nod, batting your eyelashes at him slowly. At that, his eyes widen to their maximum size, and this reaction, coupled with the blush on his cheeks and the mess of blond curls on his head, lends him an air of almost innocence - despite his nefarious ways. "Merlin, then we could just-"

“Oh yeah, sure, but maybe another time, hm?” You cut him off with a roll of your eyes as you reach the open door, palming the slytherin’s chest. He smiles at that for about two seconds before sucking in a stuttered breath as he finally realizes where he is and what you’ve been planning all this time. You grin and blink at his daze, throwing him out with a single, hard shove before he can say anything else, locking the door quickly.

For a moment all you hear is silence, until there’s a loud thud on the wood that makes you jump a little in fright.

And you can only assume that’s his forehead hitting the door.

“Wait, so you’re saying it’s possible, yes?” His voice sounds muffled and hopeful through the door.

You almost growl. “Go away, Rosier!”

You stay there just long enough to hear a disappointed, almost sullen grunt before his purposefully hard footsteps sound across the floor as he reluctantly walks away.

"You know, he's not going to shut up about this from now on."

Your body turns to face the ravenclaw, who has recovered from the shock at some point and is now sporting his characteristic sly smile, his hands folded in his lap. His young, handsome features are highlighted both by the amber lighting of the stove located in the corner of the room and by the pale moonlight that enters through the stained glass window behind his bed. And, even from a distance, you notice that there is no longer any trace of the swollen, ugly cut on his lower lip. Which means that either this time the two of you hadn't seen each other in longer than you realized, or Barty had finally received the blessing of a modicum of common sense to use a healing spell on his own wounds.

You snort, feeling almost sick to your stomach from how nervous you are. "Like he'd shut up about anything."

He laughs and nods, but you feel too anxious to smile back. Your gaze darts back and forth between the floor and his eyes, hands clasped in front of you, unsure of what to do with your own presence now that silence reigns.

Barty doesn't look hurt, which is somehow even worse. That betrayed shadow in his gaze from last time, a memory that's haunted you ever since, is definitely gone. He looks almost... okay? That only makes you even more uncomfortable. Because you know he can't be okay, not after the colossal mess you've made of things. You know you've hurt him.

You're both silent for a moment, and when you summon the courage to look at him again, you see him staring at a blank spot behind your head for a moment, almost as if he's seeing through you, his eyes fixed and his jaw clenched. The whole thing happens in less than two seconds, and when he notices you watching him again, his face relaxes so quickly and artificially that it’s almost comical, and he gives you a wide smile, confident that he’s doing a good job of hiding what he’s really feeling.

But you see it, of course you see it, because Barty Crouch isn’t subtle about his emotions and reactions—he wears them on his face and in his body language without any suspense, an open book for anyone to see.

But now he’s trying to hide it, pretending that everything’s okay so as not to hurt you. Willing to play this hot and cold game all over again, just because he thinks that’s what you want. For some reason it makes you want to scream at him, shake him by the shoulders and tell him that he can’t do things like that—he can’t make you feel so humiliatingly attracted to him with gestures like that.

Because he should just be Barty Crouch Jr, the troublemaker of Hogwarts. He should just be Barty who is as spectacular inside the classroom as he is an absolute disaster outside it. Loud, arrogant, with no respect for rules or good behavior.

He shouldn’t be anything more than that, and you certainly shouldn’t have the slightest interest in him, being his complete opposite. You’re like water and wine. His audacity to disrupt the status quo of things makes you irrationally angry with yourself and with him.

But no matter how much you kick your feet and throw a tantrum and pretend it’s not happening, the situation is this:

a) you didn’t loathe his presence, as you sometimes pretended.

b) to be honest, you even missed his irritating looks when its weren’t there.

c) the irritation with your own inability to allow yourself to feel what he was so obviously willing to offer only grew with each encounter.

Of course, you still trying to persuade yourself—in a stupid and frankly pathetic effort—that you weren’t slowly falling in love with the man: the idea of love still gave you the creeps sometimes.

But the cold hard truth was that you couldn’t ignore those moments when you found yourself practically vibrating out of your skin, your breath coming in short gasps and your cheeks red as steam almost came out of your ears like a kettle boiling, with just the thought of him. And the more you thought about it, the more it seemed pointless to try so hard to resist, and it was really scaring the hell out of you.

And that’s why you were here. For clarification.

Coming tonight was entirely your idea. Well, almost entirely yours - Pandora had some part in it, and Merlin help you so she doesn't find out about it.

You could still remember the blonde’s reaction when you reluctantly opened up about the recent events involving you and Barty. "You can't keep doing this," she said, clucking incessantly like a mommy hen scolding her chick, "please decide on your feelings. I know it's hard for you to understand them and come to terms with them, but Barty is crazy about you. And I'm sure that's evident by now. You'd be a fool to let him go, especially over something as simple as pride or stubbornness."

You'd pouted at the time, indignant and offended that Pandora was giving you a moral lesson when you were already so emotionally fragile. But after pondering her words for a few days, arguing with yourself as you stirred your potions in the cauldron with a sour frown, and as you patrolled the empty corridors with heavy, sullen steps (scaring a few portraits in the process) - you realized there was a lot of truth in those words.

It turns out that knowing what to do and confronting your feelings head-on are two entirely different things. And though you know you should be the one to go to him this time, you realize you don’t really know what to say now that you have his attention. And that’s scary in itself, because words have always been everything to you; your defense, your offense, and your negotiation with the world. But when it comes to Barty, you always feel completely bereft of them.

“You—,” you begin, unsure and out of place, licking your lips when realize how suddenly dry they are. “Are you… really mad at me?”

“No,” he answers without even blinking, so quickly and with such conviction that it immediately convinces you of his sincerity. “I’m just confused. Confused and a little insecure, I guess.”

You can’t help but be puzzled, after all, insecure and Barty definitely couldn’t possibly be related.

“I don’t think that’s possible for you.” You huff out a low laugh, thinking this is just another one of his ill-timed jokes.

Barty sighs, shaking his head and tugging at a loose thread on the bedsheet. The corner of his mouth lifts in a tired smile before he confides,

"—It may not seem like it, but you can bet I never feel sure of anything when it comes to you, little lion." It's impossible not to notice the sudden intensity in his voice. "You seem to be changing your mind so often, I never know if I'm right or not."

The room is so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop, the atmosphere filled with tension and something more. The deep blue of Barty's eyes stare into your soul after his words, and you feel yourself trembling as realize your own feelings, which come crashing down on you all at once. The stab of the accusation, even said in a gentle tone, still hurts something in your chest and heats your cheeks with embarrassment and the compulsion to look away is strong, but you don't. You owe him that, at least.

You nod. "You're right," your voice is low and guilty, not even trying to deny the truth. "Sometimes it's just hard to believe that this is really happening to me... you know... most of the time I don't know what to do with it. What to do with you. But you're right and-"

You are interrupted, not by words, but by Barty's next actions. He suddenly abandons his place on the bed, standing up to invade your personal space with impressive speed. You have a few seconds to admire how comfortable and cozy he looks in his simple gray pajama pants and white cotton shirt before he’s on you. For a second, you almost think he might be considering kissing you again, since the closeness is so similar to last time.

Except there’s no kiss. Barty doesn’t even touch you. All he does is stand in front of you, too close for comfort, close enough that you have to clear your throat or look away, overwhelmed by his intense presence. You choose the first option.

“I don’t want to be right about this,” he answers then, so close that you have to crane your neck to look at him, heart racing in your chest. “I want you to be sure.”

You shake your head, unsure of how to respond, unable to understand what he wants to hear.

Barty narrows his eyes, his voice dropping several octaves as he asks,

“What does it take for you to be sure?"

"I - I..." You stammer, trying to find words that stubbornly refuse to find their way into your mouth.

Barty watches you for another awkward moment, then exhales and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more in the process. "Look, I get it, you have a hard time believing all this, right? But you're acting like this is a silly thing, something that's going to go away soon. As if I just woke up one day and decided to like you, but I'll soon realize that's not quite the case." He lets out a breathy but humorless laugh, his blue eyes almost desperately while search yours. "Do you know how long I've been stuck with you? How disheartening it was to realize that no matter how much attention I got from other people, the one person I wanted it was too busy treating me like a hindrance? Like an inconvenience?"

You hold your breath.

"I tried everything to get your attention," he continues, his voice rougher now. "Watching you discreetly, watching you not at all discreetly, beating you in exams to get a reaction, reading the same books as you to get a chance to talk about it - I even tried to sneak into the Gryffindor common room to talk to you one night, but that idiot Potter got to me before I could." He rolls his eyes at this part, making his disdain for James clear - as if it wasn't already obvious after all these years. "You obviously had a lot more brains than me on this, seeing as you're here now and everything..." he continues to mutter under his breath, now almost surpresed by your apparent ease to invade other houses' dormitories at will.

"You do know you're describing a stalking, right?" You sigh with a disbelieving laugh, though your entire body is practically shaking with anxiety.

Barty shrugs, unfazed by the accusation. "But it didn't matter what I did or how, because you..." He trails off, shaking his head, eyes shining into yours. "You always got away, always left."

Your skin turns dark red, chest tightening at the memory of how many times you had made him sad with this - even though your reasons were real and they were valid, it was still uncomfortable knowing that you had affected him so much in the process of understanding your own feelings.

Barty, sensing your inner conflict and wanting to offer some comfort (even when he was obviously the one who needed comforting at that moment) reaches up to grab your chin, his thumb stroking the delicate line of your jaw.

“This is scaring you, I get it. It’s not nonsense,” he says solemnly.

“Hngh,” you reply, very articulately.

Normally you pride yourself on being able to keep your cool. You can divert, change the subject and escape from one conversation to another when you want to. But—much to your increasing unhappiness, and because when it comes to Barty Crouch Jr nothing is as you thought—that’s not what happens.

You’re completely speechless.

It’s as if nothing is happening in your brain. You just look at him, feel his long fingers on your skin, his fresh, clean scent surrounding you, and your mouth tries to move, really tries, but nothing coherent comes out. Even the smoke notes that seem permanently embedded in him, though much softer tonight, feel appealing and captivating to you.

“If it’s proof you need, I can give it to you.” He murmurs at your inability to express himself, close enough that you can count each individual eyelash in his stupid blue eyes. “I can make you believe, little lion, I swear. Let me make you believe.”

The way he says it, hopeful and husky and so close to your lips, the impact of his request, makes you shift your weight to the other foot, uneasy. You feel a pressure in your belly, heat rising up the back of your neck. You burn with shame, guilt, but most of all, with excitement, because he looks a little silly like this, begging. But there’s fire in his eyes too, determined and intense, like a intense fire raging through the forest—destroying to rebuild, stronger, more resilient, burning you from the inside out, and…and you can’t take it.

"I know I'm loud, stupid, and a fucking mess at all, I know. I also know I'm far from the guy you envisioned as your boyfriend, but let me make you understand that this is real, that you can trust me with your heart. I won't mess it up this time, I promise. Please, just let me-"

Your hand comes up before you can think better of it, sliding through his soft, messy locks, and just as quickly as he'd come closer before, you bring his mouth to yours to cut off his babbling - partly because his words were making you tremble and blush in a particularly annoying way, and partly because he was right there, moving those soft lips without a damn pause for breath and it didn't feel very healthy.

You feel a little stupid when he immediately tenses, letting out a surprised 'hmmpf', muffled by your mouth on his. Before you can pull away, however, he recovers from the shock, wrapping his arm around your waist and tangling his other hand in your hair, pulling you towards him as he lowers his mouth to yours to deepen the kiss.

Your throat hums a soft sound, because kissing Barty is just as good as you remembered, absolutely exquisite, just like the first one had been. He’s methodical and careful as he licks your soft mouth, his arm tightening around your waist, keeping your bodies pressed together. You’re heated now, cheeks flushed with contentment as much as shyness.

Your head turns in the sweetest way when he parts your lips, applying more pressure to your tongue, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating, the way both your heads tilt and your lips fit together, the taste of Barty on your tongue; mint, chocolate and that annoying, inconvenient tang of smoke. He’s all slick heat and languid tongue, licking and stroking with a slow, lazy grace, as if he has all the time in the world.

The whole thing becomes too much and not enough at the same time.

You push your hand under his shirt to touch his bare skin, needing to feel him closer, better, your fingertips sliding over the hard muscles of his stomach, feeling the heat of him, the way they instantly contract under your touch; Barty makes a low, broken noise against your mouth and digs his fingers deeper into your hair, pulling your head back with that grip — and fuck — presses the entire length of his body against yours, letting you feel the effect you had on him with that touch.

“Oh merlin,” you sigh, breaking the kiss to gasp, keeping your eyes closed tightly for a few more seconds, head spinning as you realize that Barty is hard — like, really hard, against your belly right now. “Merlin,” you say over and over, oh. “Barty, that feels…”

With one hand still clenched in your hair, the other desperately gripping your body by the waist to keeping you close, he breathes as heavily as you do.

Barty murmurs your name, lips moist and already swollen from the kisses. He seems to be trying to say something as he touches his forehead to yours, but he’s also struggling to find the words—and it’s almost comforting to see that, to know that you’re not the only one who seems unable to express yourself right now. He hugs you tighter and leans down to rest his lips on your neck, gently brushing his mouth against the warm thrum of your pulse, making your magic sing beneath your skin, reacting intensely to that gentle touch.

Your name is whispered once more as he pulls away from your skin, almost reverentially, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up and make you look at him again. You do so with half-lidded eyes and crimson tinted cheeks, and you know in that moment that you’ve never seen anything as blue as Barty’s eyes.

"Can I... can I touch you? I just want... I just want to make you feel good. I promise to make you feel so good, little lion," he murmurs, his voice husky, body seeming to vibrate with barely contained energy, right where your palm is still flat on his belly - trembling with the need to do exactly as he said, pulsing with the desire to explore and worship every inch of you.

How could you deny that? How could you want anything other than exactly that?

You nod sloppily, but it seems that's not enough for Barty. He tilts his head, leaving a soft, wet kiss on the delicate line of your jaw, warm breath fanning across your cheek. He nudges your flushed skin with the tip of his nose, trailing a little further until he reaches the curve of your neck.

"None of that, pretty. I need words."

You let out a sigh - It's a little hard to form words when he seems determined to torment you with his touches.

Your jaw works as he sucks on a spot on your neck, heat growing in your chest the longer he continues.

“Y-yes,” you breathe as his tongue slowly undulates across your skin, his fingers, still deeply tangled in your scalp, squeezing pleasantly until you shiver. “Can you touch me, Barty...please, I want it—”

Barty pulls away from your neck and brings you face to face with him again, noses touching. “You’re finally being honest with how you feel, damn it.” He murmurs against your lips, fingers combing through your hair to cradle the side of your head, thumbs pressing against your jaw to tilt you back. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, exhaling a slow, warm sigh against your lips. Every hair on your body stands on end in anticipation, your nerves on edge.

“I’m going to kiss you again, okay?” He warns in a ragged whisper, as if giving you another chance to stop him if you wanted to. When you obviously don’t make any argument against it, his lips are on yours once more.

And if you whimper into his mouth, well, that was your problem.

You pant, hands fisted in his cotton shirt, head stutters as you feel his lips fit better between yours, sucking gently on your bottom lip. It feels so good, soft and languid, it makes your heart beat faster in your chest, heat creeping into your belly - warm and pulsing, like a star is shining inside it. It’s almost sinful the way he kisses you, so slow and deliberate - someone who knows what he’s doing. Sliding his tongue along yours without any rush, sucking and nibbling on your trembling bottom lip with a sensual and gentle pressure. He pushes you in the direction he wants, keeping you warm and needy with his expert touches.

The extent of your own intimate experience with the opposite sex, lack thereof to be more precise, is limited to a single, awkward encounter with a gryffindor boy after a won quidditch match - certainly not enough to prepare you for something like this. He was a virgin then, like you, and there’s no need to tell that the whole thing was a blur of awkward kisses, bumping limbs and inexperienced touches, lots of awkward giggles and apologies. It was over as soon as it began, and you fled his dorm like someone fleeing the plague—you’re not proud to say that you still try hard to avoid the poor guy, which is a decidedly challenging task at times, since he’s in the same house as you.

Barty, on the other hand, exudes confidence and ease in every touch—a confidence that can only come from true experience. Every movement, every kiss, every brush of his fingers is done with purpose and intent, a means to lead you down the path he desires.

It’s enough to make you feel something strangely akin to jealousy—the knowledge that he’s done this before, often enough to be quite good at it. It’s irrational, of course, and you certainly have no right to feel that way.

But you try not to focus too much on that, choosing instead to focus on the indisputable evidence that his prowess is your gain at this moment. Your body is certainly more than satisfied with his ability to read you, to know exactly where and how to touch you.

When your back touches his mattress, you are already completely and disastrously kissed. Your mind is so clouded and drunk on his mouth that you didn't even notice when he guided you towards the bed.

As you settle your head more comfortably on the pillow, Barty unties the curtains to hide the bed from any unwanted presence that might invade the dorm, murmuring a silencing charm around the two of you. Your face heats up and your heart skips a beat at what this represents, the flush on your skin evidenced by the pale glow of the moonlight that shines through the stained glass window next to the bed.

"Comfortable?" he asks with a small, affectionate smile on his lips, smoothing the heat on your cheek with his thumb. The smile widens in amusement when you mumble some random response, round eyes, blinking at him like an owl.

He kneels slowly between your parted legs, reaching behind him to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling it up over his neck—and it’s strange how the gesture makes your stomach churn. You can only admire the creamy planes and defined lines of his chest and abs for a moment before he’s above you again.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he confides as he slides one hand under the oversized shirt you wear to bed, leaning on his other arm to press his mouth against yours again. Your hands roam all over his upper body—and it feels incredible under your hands, muscles taut and defined from years of quidditch, skin warm and soft—and it feels even more incredible when pressed against yours.

His fingers are amazing too when they touch a strip of skin on your belly and you sigh at it, opening your lips to accept the slippery slide of his tongue, melting in how his mouth conquers you with hunger and evasion, alternating mind-blowing kisses with teasing caresses of his tongue that leave you breathless and trembling.

You let him take what he needs, tilting your neck towards him and moving your lips in time with his. There’s no reason to fight it anymore. Not when this is all that’s left.

The thought tightens your throat, so you focus your attention on the grip of his fingers on your hip and the slide of his mouth. On the thrill that runs through you when he breaks the kiss, his forehead touching yours. He gasps sharply into your mouth, his eyes still searching yours under the shy rays of moonlight, and you wonder if intimacy should scare you. It doesn’t.

He stares at you as his fingers continue to tug at the hem of your shirt, and before long, his warm hands are running up your waist, slowly caressing the shape of your ribs, all the way up to just below your breasts.

And when he gets a little closer, you blurt out, “I-I’ve only done this once before.”

You don’t know why you say it, your mouth running before you can stop it.

He looks deeper into your eyes, searching for something. “Okay…” He nods carefully, and you think he’s about to end it all. “We don’t have to do anything other than kiss tonight. It’s okay if-”

You shake your head immediately. “No. I want to keep going. I just…you know…” You stutter, unsure about exposing your insecurities. “I just don’t want to disappoint you or anything.”

Barty chuckles softly as he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead for just a second before whispering, "That would be impossible, little lion. You're too perfect for something like that. Too perfect for me too...but I'm a selfish fucker, you know."

His hand feels huge and warm against your ribs and you swallow hard as a wave of heat washes over you at his words.

"Is it okay if I touch you here?" He keeps those gorgeous blue eyes on yours as he asks, carefully moving his fingers an inch higher, towards your breasts.

Heart racing, but without any hesitation, you answer, "Yes, please-"

His hand finally moves, reaching for your chest. You dig your fingers into his broad shoulders as he finds your breast. Pressing his lips to yours lazily, he runs his thumb over your hardened nipple, making gentle circles over your bra. It feels good. Amazing in true. Even better than when you touched yourself.

"What can I do?" he whispers into your mouth, and then lets his lips trail over the warm, flushed area of your cheek. "With you. Tell me what can I do?"

“Everything,” you sigh at him, feeling in that moment that you really mean it. He can have all of you.

He grunts against your skin, his thumb still teasing the hardened bud of your nipple. “You shouldn’t say things like that, little lion, it might make me greedy.”

You blush, but you also almost yell at him for being so stupidly slow with his teasing. Barty is always so assertive, hyperactive and eager - it feels like a punishment that he’s decided to be patient tonight, simmering you like this.

Deciding that you won’t leave any more unnecessary delay, you can’t squirm to get your shirt off fast enough, nearly elbowing Barty in the face in the process. He chuckles softly and dodges your flailing limbs, and you flop panting back onto the bed when you’re done, this time in just your bra and sleep pants. You hope he gets the message, but you’re fully prepared to take your bra off yourself if need be.

"Someone's in a hurry." Of course he's annoying about it too, smirking all too smugly at your eagerness.

"Barty, I swear to Merlin if you don't shut up and start doing something I'm going to... I'm going to... I-"

The words trail off as you feel him slip a finger under the strap of your bra on your shoulder, slowly lowering it, leaning down to trail kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. You shiver. His soft lips brushing against your skin, along with his warm breath, makes you shiver and your nipples harden. Meanwhile, his other hand slides the strap off your other shoulder.

"Are you going to...?" He teases, his eyebrows raised in curiosity and amusement, but he continues to kiss your neck and shoulders as his hands slowly slide down your back to unclasp your bra.

"Fuck you." You curse, but still help him remove it and let it fall to the floor. His hands are gentle as they cup your breasts and brush his thumbs over the sensitive peaks of your nipples. Each stroke of his thumb sends little jolts of pleasure down your spine. When he leans forward and takes one into his mouth, you moan and grip his shoulders tighter. He sucks slowly, sweeping the soft peak with his undulating tongue and you squeeze your eyes shut, small stuttering sounds falling from your lips.

“What about there, baby?” His hand leaves one breast alone and drops to your knee. Your stomach twists at the warm touch. He slides his hand up your thigh and whispers over your drooling nipple, brushing the sensitive peak with his lips until you squirm and mewl, “Can I touch you there?”

You nod eagerly, the easiest decision of your life, really.

Moving slowly up your thigh, his hand finally wraps around the waistband of your sleep pants, pulling the elastic down your legs—you can’t kick the thing off fast enough.

His waist is between your legs, his mouth on your breast, and the first brush of his knuckles against the crotch of your panties has you gasping. He does the same to your nipple, murmuring, “Fuck.”

You feel his fingers moving against you further to the side, his thumb massaging your nipple now that he’s stopped lathering it with his tongue. You tangle your hands in the soft mess of his hair and hold his mouth against yours as he leans down to kiss you once more, hungrily and deeply, grunting into your mouth between gasps of breath. He runs his fingers along the flimsy (and embarrassingly wet) fabric of your panties, slowly moving up to the spot that throbs and begs for attention, then back down again. Over and over.

"Barty, please don't be so slow," you finally break the kiss, breathing heavily, your eyebrows furrowed, and cheeks flaming - a sullen pout on your lips.

"Fuck, I always knew you'd be a brat, little lion." He sighs almost happily, catching your bottom lip between his teeth with a slight tug before releasing it. "When that pussy is nice and slick and ready for my cock, you'll thank me for being so 'slow'."

You gasp at the dirty words that suddenly pour from his mouth like a damn faucet turned on - words that heat up not only your face, but your pussy as well.

"I'll thank you when you stop being such a teasing bastard and make me come."

Your words show a lot more courage and sass than you actually feel, but you're glad you can get them out.

He chuckles slowly, blue eyes darkening right before you.

“Spread your legs wider for me then, pretty.” He commands softly, and if you weren’t so hot and throbbing you would have denied it on instinct alone, but as it is, you just send him a very poor scolding look before doing as he says. He shifts, tilting his body so he’s on your side on the bed, getting a better view of your legs parting for him. You want to tell him the bed is too small for the two of you to be like this, but somehow it works - he’s on his side on the mattress now, balanced on his forearm but still leaning almost on top of you, his forehead resting on the side of your face as he looks down. He groans softly, right next to your ear, as curls his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulls it to the side.

“Fuck, you made a mess here, love…” is the first thing he points out - and yes, it’s true. The fabric of your panties is soaked where it pools at your crotch, and even though you don’t have the courage to look down and confirm it, you know you’re glistening in the moonlight with all the sticky mess leaking out of you. “So fucking beautiful.”

He slowly runs his finger along the outside of your folds, seemingly mesmerized by what he sees. You shiver, sighing impatiently at the light touches that seem to have the sole purpose of driving you wild. He pauses and looks up at your face, letting your cheeks heat under the weight of his hungry, analyzing gaze. With a wry smile, he moves his forearm to the inside of your knee, lifting and spreading your leg so that it rests above his hip. You’re spread wide now, shamefully wide—and this time he doesn’t hesitate as slides his hand down to your sticky center, rocking in your wetness and spreading it with his fingers.

“Still want me to make you come, hm?” His voice was husky and dark.

You mumble a drunken agreement against his mouth, and then his fingers slide against your clit. You gasp loudly, and his tongue immediately dives into your mouth.

You have serious trouble keeping up with the hungry pace of the kiss, moaning softly as Barty runs his thumb back and forth over the tip of your clit, gliding easily with all the wet mess there. He offers some mercy when he pulls his mouth away from yours so you can breathe heavily, one hand gripping the bed sheet in a tight fist, the other instinctively coming up to cup a breast.

“That’s it princess, squeeze that pretty tit while I make you come on my fingers.” He whispers hotly in your ear, getting to work in earnest, still holding your thigh open by his forearm as you writhe enthusiastically under his ministrations.

You moan as your hips lift off the bed to try get closer. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open as your body begins to tremble. He alternates between rubbing your clit with his thumb and running his fingers up and down your folds, circling your opening teasingly, and starting again.

“Fuck, you make the cutest little noises.” He tilts his hips to rub against your inner thigh, his erection hard and heat against your flesh, even through the barrier of his pajama pants. “Merlin, this has to be a dream.”

“Barty—”

“Shh, I know, love, I know, I have to focus—” He chuckles softly, breathlessly, letting his sweaty forehead fall against your shoulder, making you shiver as he continues to slide his fingers over the warm, swollen folds that sing beautifully under his attention. “But it’s hard to believe this is happening. That you’re here, letting me touch you like this…”

You’re not sure if you’re even forming coherent words at this point. His touches, his voice in your ear, saying things that make you want to run and sink into him at the same time, it’s all too much and you vaguely remember yourself gasping “yes” and “more”, or occasionally moaning his name in response.

Suddenly his fingers are stroking you with purpose and he’s somehow better than before. One long finger slides inside you and you’re sure this must feel like heaven.

“Like this?” He whispers the question against your skin.

“Oh, yes!”

His lips nibbling and licking your earlobe leave you in a lustful smack as he focuses his attention on his finger, slowly moving in and out of you. A high-pitched cry rips from your throat as you feel a second finger being added. The coiled feeling inside you tightens and tightens.

"Feel's good baby?" he asks in a feverish groan, as if your pleasure reverberated through his body.

You feel the sway of his hips as he snuggles into the mattress and against your body, his back and ass flexing and relaxing in alternating motions, thrusting his clothed cock into your thigh. The sensation alone is almost enough to make you pass out.

How does he expect you to respond in this state? All you can do is buck your hips to his rhythm, masturbating yourself carnally with his fingers. And fuck, his fingers. So long that when he curls them, you go rigid.

“Ah, ah,” you moan breathlessly, sweat breaking out at your hairline, skin heat and flushed. His fingertips brush over and over that spongy spot inside you, and as he slowly pulls them out, brushing against it, you think you might cry.

He pulls away for a moment to speak, his fingers still pulsing inside you. “You have no fucking idea how much you’re driving me crazy, princess.” His voice sounds as broken as you feel. He attacks your clit and picks up the pace with not only his fingers, but also his wet, skilled thumb on that mound of nerves. He moves it back and forth against the nub as he slides a third finger inside you and push his fingers in and out rapidly. The stretch is maddening—almost more than you can handle, but not quite. “It’s like you were created with the deliberate intention of destroying every shred of common sense in me. Not that I have much to begin with,” he half-laughs, half-sighs against your cheek, breathing heavily on your damp skin—“and that’s why this is so dangerous, you know? You’re fucking dangerous, little lion.”

He curls his fingers again, hitting that spot inside you without mercy, and your back arches off the mattress. He’s going to make you come.

“Barty,” you moan. "So close, I'm so close, please-"

Still with his forearm extended under your head for support, he uses his hand to cup your jaw, forcing your face to the side so that you have a clear view of his gaze on yours. Blue eyes, now dark and bright, the pupil so wide that it takes up almost the entire space of the iris. His skin is also flushed, sweat making a few strands of brown hair stick close to his temple. Soft, parted lips, a little swollen and red from the kisses you exchanged. His naturally well-shaped eyebrows are furrowed in concentration - in feverish desire.

He is beautiful. So beautiful.

"Does my princess want to come?" The cute nickname rolls on his tongue the same way velvet rolls on your skin, and you let out a shamefully desperate moan. With breathing starts to become irregular and the tremors in your thighs increase in intensity, your little fingers kneading the soft flesh of your breast, teasing your nipple without taking your eyes off his for even a second.

"So good. That's it...that's my pretty, sweet girl."

"Please, please," you moan, fist on the sheet clenched so tightly you could rip it between your nails.

"Please what, love?"

"Make me..." a long moan coming from your mouth interrupts you - and you sob before continuing, "...make me come. Please. I need...I need to come."

Barty groans softly, his eyes leaving yours for just a moment to watch where his fingers slide in and out of your pussy, his thumb flicking your clit back and forth over and over. “Fuck, fuck, you’re going to kill me. Look at that, baby—”

You force your eyes to stay open as he lifts his head again, tilting his chin to indicate where you should be looking. And when you let your gaze slide down, your cheeks turn impossibly redder. You watch the muscles in your stomach tighten as you writhe, the center between your legs so wet that your inner thighs glisten visibly in the moonlight, making sinful noises with each movement of his fingers. Long fingers belonging to a broad hand, glistening with your own arousal. In and out. In and out. His wrist, slender but defined like his entire body, marked with high veins along its length and a thin leather bracelet around it, moves rhythmically as he fucks you and the sight of it is almost enough to send you straight underground.

You can’t take it anymore. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, legs trembling as a devastating rush of electrification pulses on every nerve in your skin.

“Come on, baby,” Barty groans, his fingers speeding up even more. “That’s it, come for me. Come for me, my good girl.”

Your head falls back against the pillows, locking your drunken, hooded gaze with his as he pushes his forehead against yours, both of your breaths puffing against each other’s lips. You’re going crazy, writhing and shaking, and then it all culminates in the slow fall, the stellar heat of it all between your thighs; suddenly, the pleasure reaches its peak, and your entire body shudders from the inside out as wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you.

A fucking powerful orgasm, gripping you tightly, and your legs immediately try to close, but Barty holds you open with his forearm hooked on the inside of your knee. You try really hard to stifle your screams as best you can, but most still escape - high-pitched, whimpering ones that sound like need personified. You moan and thrash beneath Barty, who continues to roll your clit in languid circles and push his long fingers as deep as he can, prolonging your release until you sink limp and boneless against the mattress.

You breathe like you’ve been running through the Highlands for hours on end, shaking on the pillows as you come down from the euphoric high. There’s barely any awareness of your surroundings as your ears ring and your tear-stained vision struggles to clear.

It’s with snail-like slowness that you notice Barty above you, the feeling of abandon between your legs as he pauses for a few moments, looking up at your face with dark eyes and ragged breathing. His lips are parted as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t, and you watch as his tongue runs over them almost nervously.

And then he lifts the three fingers that were inside you moments ago, staring at them as if he’s caught in a hypnotic trance before bringing them up to his mouth to clean them, moaning softly as he does so, his body shuddering for a moment. You catch a glimpse of his pink tongue as it licks the sticky strand between them, and despite the orgasm that hit you just a few minutes ago, you know you’re ready to go again.

“I-I…” Barty stutters as he slowly pulls his fingers from his mouth, looking very dazed as he looks down at you—blue eyes almost confused, as if not even he knows exactly what’s happening. “That was... I never thought I’d see something like that, much less feel it-”

You frown, confused by his abrupt stutter.

“Barty...?”

“I need you,” he confesses suddenly, his broad, defined chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his fingers trembling as they sink into the soft mess of his hair, “I need, fuck... I swear I’m usually more patient than this, fuck. But right now I don’t- I can’t think-”

“I-I don’t want you to do this now,” you sigh as you understand, leaning forward to support yourself on forearms as he shifts on the bed until he’s kneeling between your legs again, restless, “please-”

“I want,” he groans, “fuck, y/n-”

“Barty,” you cut him off, pleasure shooting up your spine, holding his gaze so he understands - “I want it too. I want you. It’s okay.”

He lets out a long, relieved sigh, watching you the whole time as his still-shaking hands reach down to grip the elastic of his sleep pants. You sit up straighter, eyes fixed on the hand pushing the waistband down, your breath coming in short gasps of nervous anticipation. There’s a wet spot on the fabric and you feel yourself swallow and shiver at it.

His eyes are on you as you watch him push his pants down enough to release his straining cock.

You barely contain a weak squeak as he springs free of the pants. It’s not intentional, but when you see him—long and thick, red and glistening with the ridiculous amount of moisture leaking from the tip—it’s an impossible reaction to hold back.

Again, you didn’t have much to compare him to, but he was far more impressive than your only previous partner—a fact you instantly decided you’d never share with Barty, Merlin knows he’d just be insufferable about it.

And he would have reason to be because, heavens, all you can think about is that his dick looks just plain adorable.

But dicks aren't supposed to be adorable, are they? They could be a lot of things, but adorable wasn't one of them.

So you just stare, feeling that moan escape your throat because - because, fuck, honestly, you don't know why... it's a penis, that's all - it shouldn't be able to instigate any physical reaction in you just by looking at it. A penis is a penis, a means to an end. A part of the male body that, more often than not, can't even be described as pleasing to the eye. It's just a penis.

A really nice penis-

A penis that you immediately want to drag your tongue along to taste, feel the weight, clean off all that sticky wetness and -

Fuck, isn't just a penis.

When you look up at him again, face blazing with flames and bottom lip caught between your teeth, he's wearing that stupid, smug little grin - knowing full well what kind of unholy thought was going through your head at that very moment. As if he wasn't literally stuttering and shaking with the urge to fuck you just moments ago, like an silly virgin -

Of course he just needed a good dick appreciation to get back to his confident self.

Right.

You narrow your eyes dangerously at him. "Don't you dare say a word."

He pretends to zip his lips, very precariously containing a smirk.

Deciding to be merciful and not extend this any further because, well, he deserves to show some smugness; after all, the man gave you the best orgasm you've ever had using just his fingers. And you really feel the need to focus on more interesting things right now, anyway - like reaching out to touch him, for example.

The proud smile dies as your little fingers brush against his cock for the first time, muscles all over his body tensing in response, creamy skin glistening subtly with sweat. His eyelashes flutter prettily and he sucks in a breath as you reach around him to give him a slow stroke along his erection, far from being able to wrap it entirely, thumb twirling the soft, flushed, pulsing head to spread the wet mess along the rest of his length. Your cheeks heat, but you still smile shyly, blinking up at him from beneath your lashes. He’s firm and smooth beneath your grip, like tempered steel wrapped in the softest velvet—the most enchanting contradiction you’ve ever feel.

It’s incredible. Thick and dripping, a silky, wet trickle running from the reddened tip to the drenched base. Definitely an insanely dirty scene, a wet dream come true. Panting, you have your hand completely wet in an instant, completely falling in love with the way his cock pulses between your fingers in response to each messy, wet sound, the veins straining against your palm as another thick pulse of liquid releases and slides over your fingers.

“You- you’re so hard-”

“Mmf--” Barty’s hips buck, his handsome face scrunching up in something that can only be described as pain as his hands ball into tight fists at his sides. “Don’t say things like that now-”

"No, seriously." You sigh innocently, trying to give him a harder stroke, blinking owlishly as Barty moans loudly and hoarsely at it. "Does...does it hurt? Does it feel good, a-am I doing this right?"

You can't help but feel a little insecure, especially knowing how experienced he is - how many handjobs has he receive, in total? Fuck, you don't want to think.

"Stop talking, please..." he groans through his teeth, throwing his head back, his adam's apple bobbing in the slender column of his throat. "I'm gonna fucking cum if you don't stop talking right now, little lion."

You shiver. The thought that he could do something like that with just the sound of your voice and light touches makes your stomach churn, heat coursing through your veins like a whisper of the flames' kiss. But you don't want it that way - not this time. You want to feel him more, you need to feel him inside you, and you’re not even ashamed to admit it at this point. You really want him inside you. And don’t want to wait any longer for it.

Your eyes are bright and your face is warm as you gasp, looking up to look at him, “Barty…can you…can you fuck me now, please?”

His head tilts toward you so fast you swear you hear something snap somewhere. He stares at you with his mouth open and his eyes glazed over, his body shuddering with each wet pull on his cock. His face contorts, gasps escaping his mouth as he continues to stare, and, Godric, it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

Your pussy clench as your eyes roam over his body, sculpted and slender, as if every inch of it has been meticulously arranged by the skilled hands of an artist. His broad, toned chest rises and falls with each quick thrust of your fist, his breathing shallow. He’s biting back every moan, clinging to that last thread of control that you just want to snap.

You’re frighteningly hot again, ready for more, “I need more, Barty, please…”

“Damn it, what did I tell you about that pretty mouth, baby?” He groans through his teeth as throws himself on top of you, pushing you until your head is back on the pillow. “You don’t fucking listen to anything I say, do you?”

Desperation spreads across his face. Your mouth is met with a passionate kiss, sharp and rude. His tongue dominates yours, and you melt blissfully under his control. You’re breathless when he finally pulls away.

His grip tightens as he tears his lips from yours, “tell me, baby.”

“I, I,” you stutter, your legs spreading so he can fit between them.

“Come on,” are the words that come out of his stupid mouth, spread across a stupid grin in that stupid voice of his, framed as a demand when really he’s just begging, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here…”

A strained sound leaves your mouth as his hand slides down your side, lips sliding over your breast until a tongue lathers saliva over one hard nipple. Arousal drips down your thighs and stains the sheets, a reminder of how much you want him. The corner of Barty’s mouth lifts, his eyes glinting with something akin to mischief as he looks at you, your nipple still being tortured by his tongue…

“Please,” you push yourself against him, “I need you now,”

“Fuck,” his hands are warm on your body, searching, “is that it, baby?”

“Inside me,” Your shaking hands fumble as you try to grab him, one on his shoulder and the other in the soft strands of his hair. “Please...”

The words die in your throat as you shiver under his touch as he rubs himself between your folds.

The tip of his cock brushes against your clit, pre-cum dripping down your skin and mixing with your arousal. You can feel him move slowly – so painfully slow – against your core until his tip presses against you lightly.

“B-Barty, don’t be mean. Don’t tease me,” you manage, your mewls sounding almost whiny. “Please. I need this so bad, please– ah.”

This was fucking torture. He wasn’t inside you—just sliding wetly between your legs. One hand forcing your head closer to his mouth, gripping the back of your hair, tugging. Your scalp tingles with adorable pinpricks of pain, lips parted against each other.

Your voice just above a whisper that should sound so angry—but it just comes out breathless and shaky: “W-what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you manage to ask, using the last of your sanity to scold him.

He’s put you on the edge of reason, your boundaries broken.

“Sliding into, baby,” he says, thrusting his hips into yours, his gaze mischievous on yours, a husky moan playing across his lips as you dig your nails into his scalp.

"Not yet," you huff, body shaking as he hits your clit once more with the soft tip of his cock. "I'm starting to think you never will. I-I thought you wanted this, Crouch."

"I bet you complain even in your sleep, little lion," he says with a certain affection, taking your leg under your knee and bending it against your chest to expose your wet, throbbing, open hole. He groans at the sight of you like this; your cheeks, chest, and the tips of your ears painted with a deep blush - drunken, half-lidded gaze, a sullen pout on your lips.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Barty groans as he squeezes the base of his cock, avoiding something embarrassing like cumming before he even enters you. "You act so innocent, a good girl running away from me all this damn time...and now you're like this, all brat and crying because I'm taking so long to fuck you."

The blood roars through your ears. His dirty mouth only turns you on more, even though you feel embarrassed for finding it so inappropriately sexy. He kisses you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a husky sound, tasting every inch of you.

The kiss ends, and you stare at each other as he mutters a charm with his hand flat on your stomach, which glows subtly and briefly before returning to normal - making your eyes widen and cheeks burst into flames of embarrassment. Contraceptive charm. Of course he would know one of those.

You don’t have time to think about it too much, though, because soon he’s finally sliding his cock against your soft folds with the right aim. Slowly, he pushes forward, and your mouth opens as your walls stretches around the head of his member. Every inch that’s pressed into you increases the mix of burning excitement coursing through you. You hear a groan escape his lips at the same time you feel his hips press against the curve of your ass, but you’re not sure if the high-pitched mewl that spills into the lust-filled air is yours or Barty’s.

He’s a bit of an animal now, whispering breathlessly in your ear that it’s going to be okay, and to just breathe, and try to relax, and you’re desperate and shaking and a little helpless, considering it’s not like this is your first time. But it seems. And then Barty’s biting your neck and pressing in harder, harder, slick and hard, pushing his cock as deep as you can handle—and you just take it, and take it, and let yourself be filled.

“Barty,” you gasp, gripping his bicep with all your strength when he’s finally all the way in. His cock throbs against your walls, and you feel your poor pussy straining to accommodate him. He kisses you sloppily before you can say anything else, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Tell me I can move, please-” he begs after kissing you breathlessly. You’ve never heard anyone sound so broken before, and nod before you can even process the question. Barty pulls his hips back until only the head of his cock is inside you, and then pushes forward until he’s fully seated again.

Slowly, fucking you slowly, he starts to establish a rhythm, you feeling so full as his hips roll forward against yours, pressing deeper and only eliciting stimulation against your pussy. He pulls back, once again leaving nothing but the tip of his cock trapped inside you—before thrusting back in, harder.

A desperate moan escapes you, your body arching into his, the pleasure building so fast it’s almost unbearable.

“Barty—ah—”

He groans. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

His pace quickens, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body clenches around him, pulling him in deeper, tighter.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, holy shit,” he hisses through his teeth. You can’t help but hum a tentative agreement, each breath wrenching from your chest with the force of his hips slamming into yours.

He grips your hips with one hand and thrusts deeper, faster, until the wet slap of skin against skin begins to sound embarrassingly loud in the room. When you look down and see the length of his cock emerging from between your legs, glistening with your wetness, you can’t help but moan and blush even more, the head hitting the pillow hard. Barty takes a deep breath, chuckling softly in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” his voice is strained. “Do you hear that? Yeah, every time I thrust like this... Oh, just listen to yourself, little lion, listen to the beautiful sounds you make for me -”

You clench instinctively at his words. It makes his hips buck and pulls a broken moan from his throat.

“A-ahh…” Your head is rolling from side to side on the pillow as you writhe, tilting your hips even higher, trying to align yourself so that he rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“More, more…” you cry out, almost not realizing you’re begging.

But he hears you.

He pulls back and adjusts himself so that the next thrust comes at an angle, aimed at your entrance. And when his tip brushes the rim— “Yes, please, Barty, please, please, I want this so bad—”

“Merlin, so tight for me, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, strain evident in his words, “it’s going so fucking good.”

For me.

“Oh, you’re so good for me, princess; I promise I’ll make it good for you too,” he continues, panting as he pushes his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I need…” he breathes, “I need you so bad, I need you…” he sighs, chuckling breathlessly, blue gaze burning into yours. “It feels so good. You. Close to me. Right now.” He swallows hard. “Please don’t pull away. Please, Y/N.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, your eyes bright with tears—of pleasure, of horny, of sadness, of hope. “I won’t. I promise, Barty, I— oh.”

And he keeps going, moving hard and fast, whispering your name as he pulls back before nuzzling in. You’ve never heard him say your name like that before—all tremble and sweaty and breathy and needy. Like a reverent song. You do your best to respond, calling his name out loud as you move with him, one hand tangled deep in his messy hair while the other traces the familiar features of his sweaty face in the moments when your lips don’t touch. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, sweaty bodies swaying against each other endlessly, your legs trembling where they wrap around his waist, hips lifting to meet his as he rocks against you until you’re both sliding together toward the edge. Falling into each other’s arms from a cliff you’ve been dancing on for too long.

It’s all so intimate, so immensely intimate.

…And you fall once more. With a pathetic moan, you arch and twist your upper body, seeking his mouth while cums. He dips his tongue in, swirling it around yours, nipping at your lip, sucking air into your lungs along with a torrent of words:

“In all my shitty life nothing has ever been important enough for me to seek, to keep—but you—” and it’s more than you can process; you’re still shaking uncontrollably, clenching around him, tears streaming down the sides of your face, you think you might pass out. “You I want to keep, little lion. I need to keep. Care for. It’s only you that matters, only you and—oh, shit, I’m going to…! Fuck—”

He bends over, covering you with his entire body, nipping at your shoulder. Deliriously, you beg. "Barty, please, please - come for me, please-"

“Ugh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all you hear as he buries his nose in your neck. You have just enough time to register his lips on your skin, kissing you repeatedly, before your world shrinks to the space between your legs.

He pushes in as hard as can; his tip nudges the deepest spot inside you, pushing you closer and closer to overstimulation. But you hold on, for him, for this almost painful pleasure that’s the only thing keeping you trapped as he expands inside you.

Barty grunts in his throat and pushes forward, as if there’s more of him to fit inside you. He holds you tight, pressing you against him as his broad body trembles above yours, his hips thrusting one last time before he groans in a long, raspy sound before comes.

One of his arms wraps around your waist, holding you steady, while the other reaches between your bodies to play with your clit. You startle at the unexpected touch, the extra stimulation making you see stars; you think you’re going to scream, but you can’t hear yourself over the ecstasy coursing through your body.

The overstimulation turns, to your complete and utter surprise and shock, into a new orgasm.

You convulse around him, his fingers pushing you to the edge you didn’t even know was there. Your belly, tight with his cum inside, contracts rhythmically as you spasm and he thrusts gently, sighing shakily in your throat.

You shiver and finally find relief in his increasingly slow thrusts, in the way he lifts himself up on his forearm, his breathing ragged and cheeks bright red, sweat trickling down his hairline and temple.

Slowly, he stops, panting heavily, and when he’s almost stopped shaking, he slowly withdraws. The feeling of being empty is strange, but you don’t have the energy to think about it when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wiping away the tears that roll down your face and you can’t stop the small tremors that run through your body even after the euphoria has passed.

“Are you okay there, little lion?” he whispers next, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. You nod, but stay silent and have to hold yourself back a little to be able to respond fully. He seems to understand this and rolls onto his side so he can hug you affectionately.

“That was...merlin,” you murmur, and bury your head in his damp chest, the scent of oak and sweat. “I can’t feel my body from the waist down…” The thought of standing up seems impossible, your brain is in a strange and pleasant fog and you can barely concentrate.

“Is that a good thing?” His laugh is light and husky, lips resting on your forehead.

“It just to much,” you reply, fingers trailing down his bicep, sighing gratefully when he uses a simple charm to cleanse your bodies of all the wet mess. “It’s hard to think now, but…” you hum and adjust your buzzing limbs to get a little more comfortable. “It was…really good, yeah.”

He hums happily and you snuggle into his chest, one leg thrown lazily over his waist, reveling in the warmth he exudes, skin against skin, warming you like a nice campfire on this cozy cold night.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?” His breath glides over your hair, nose brushing your forehead. You swallow a sleepy sound, the warmth of his closeness spreading like molasses through your bones. His question is asked softly and almost hesitantly, but also hopefully, and you bite your lip before blinking up at him.

"I-I want to, but I don't know if its a good ideia. What if they see me before I can get back to Gryffindor Tower tomorrow?"

"No one here is going to say anything, princess. And it's not like you're the first person to wake up in a bed in a dorm that isn't yours." He rolls his eyes with a smirk, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before freezing, thinking. "Wait a minute, you're Head Girl. That means you have your own dorm separate from the other students, doesn't it?"

You're quick to pick up on where his thoughts are going.

"We're not going to fuck in my personal dorm, Barty."

"Oh baby, we're going to fuck in every corner of this castle if I can have a say in it..." he teases playfully, grabbing you by the waist to bury his nose in your neck.

"Don't be so rude, idiot." You scold him with red cheeks as pull yourself away, adjusting your body better on that bed that is too small for two people, pulling the sheet to cover yourself. Barty smiles even more at this, realizing that you are, in fact, snuggling up to spend the night with him.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying your best to contain your own smile.

Hair disheveled as always, but with a radiant air of exultant satisfaction. Bright eyes, warm cheeks. He was so gorgeous it made you sick.

A gorgeous man who wouldn't shut up for a moment. He breaks the silence after a few minutes.

"Does that mean when they see us together in the Great Hall or in the hallways tomorrow, I can tell them that you're my girlfriend?"

You yawn loudly, nonchalantly adjusting the blanket over your body, as if his question hadn't made your heart stutter and heat up in your chest.

"And who said I want them to see us together?"

His jaw drops comically, blue eyes round and pouting like a kicked Puffskein pup's.

"You didn't—but I thought...what?"

You can't help but laugh, covering your face with the sheet to hide yourself.

Barty lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Wait, is this a joke? Damn princess, this is so much fun for you, isn't it?" He pulls the sheet off your face, stretching his fingers to tickle along your belly, laughing along with you when you start to squirm and giggle.

By the time he's finished torturing you, your face is red and streaked with tears from laughing so hard, struggling to catch your breath.

"Barty?"

You call out to him when you finally calm down, running your fingers over his thin chest, feeling the muscles relax before all the laughing, his heart starting to beat at a steady pace. Comforting.

He tilts his face towards you, a soft, lazy smile on his lips. "Hmm?"

"You can tell them I'm your girlfriend."

He smiles, wide and happy, pulling your face up to place a quick, smacking kiss on your lips, followed by countless pecks on your cheeks and forehead.

He’s practically vibrating when asks the next question:

“Does that also mean you’ll be wearing a blue scarf to the next Ravenclaw match, right?”

“No!”

“...”

You snort when he pouts dramatically.

“Maybe.”

He blinks those same round eyes again.

You roll yours.

“Yes.”

Another long, blissful moment of silence that you know he’s going to break.

“...even if it’s against Gryffindor?”

“Limits, Crouch. Limits!!”

#barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch smut #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #barty x reader #x reader #ravenclaw barty #ravenclaw #gryffindor

175 notes · View notes

asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

real me, real you - psh

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. jay... sorry)

synopsis. You’re your school’s popular pretty smart girl, but with a twist - you lead a completely different life at home, where you are messy, lazy and foul-mouthed. Only your family and best friend Sumin know about this, until Park Sunghoon, of all people, finds out. The resident cold and arrogant heartbreaker of your school decides to blackmail you into doing his biddings - but you can’t say no, not even when he asks you to be his fake girlfriend, otherwise he’ll ruin your reputation. But as you and Sunghoon get closer, you realize that maybe he’s not so bad after all, and you may be more similar than you'd originally though - all while your old childhood friend Jay watches from the sidelines.

genre. fake dating, high school au, very slight love triangle action, fluff and angst

warnings. this is the first thing i ever wrote so there may be slightly cringe and awkward things but i didn't wanna change anything lol, hoon is a meanie at some point and everything is dramatic and very fanfic-y, mild childhood trauma for both of them <3

word count. 22.9k

author's note. @end-hyphen genie this one is for you... i hope you still like this fic after all this time lol ! as i said in the warnings i only changed a few typos and punctuation from the original but i decided to not make any major changes bc i think it's nice to see what my writing was like when i had just started out!! hopefully i've improved lol, also this was not inspired by true beauty!! i've never seen the show nor read the webtoon. i was inspired by two mangas called switch girl and kare kano (or his and her circumstances) which have this plot of a girl being two different people at school and at home. anyways hope u guys enjoy this and if u do pls lmk <333

Nobody was supposed to find out.

You were the most popular girl in school, known for your looks, good grades, and kind personality. You had a nice group of friends and the whole school at your feet, students and staff alike. As the student representative, you had an image to keep up and needed everyone to think you were perfect; and they did. So you always wore a smile on your face, kept your head up and made sure your uniform was creaseless, all while maintaining the highest scores in your year. Always being friendly to your peers and helping them out prevented anyone from thinking you were a stuck-up goody-two-shoes. You made high school look like a breeze.

But such a life didn’t exist. Who was happy waking up at 6 a.m. every day and dedicating all of their time to schoolwork and student life? You certainly weren’t. What you thrived off of was having everyone think you were. Hearing whispers in the corridor of, “She’s so pulled together!” or “I wish I had her life”, now, those skyrocketed you to heaven. The cherry on top was a nod of approval from a teacher or an “outstanding job again, Y/N” as they handed you back your graded paper. Your favorite color had become the red of the pens your teachers used to write A+ at the top of the page.

You’d always been academically gifted, but as you heard those words more and more, you’d started craving them and doing everything to hear them again until they started controlling you instead of the other way around. Everything you did needed to be perfect. And that was how you had created this persona of the perfect girl who had it all together at the ripe age of 17. But that’s exactly what it was; a persona.

As soon as you stepped off the bus and waved goodbye to your friends, you became another person. Or more accurately, you reverted back to your natural self. You weren’t an evil person by any means; it wasn’t your intention to actively deceive everyone at school, it was more of a side effect of keeping up appearances. Only your family and your closest friend Sumin knew what you were truly like: greedy, messy, short-tempered, self-centered, and sometimes downright insufferable. Your younger siblings, Sunoo and Yeeun, liked to joke that you had a button you switched on and off whenever you left the house. When on, you were the sweetest girl ever, but when off, all your vices crept up and let themselves known to the world, or rather to your family. You didn’t mean to make them suffer, but after a long day of being perfect, you needed to blow off some steam; if they had to be your metaphorical punching bag, so be it.

When Sunoo entered high school, you made him swear he wouldn’t say a thing to anyone. You trusted him and knew he wouldn’t let your secret out - it was too entertaining for him to see you act perfect at school and reveal your true self at home. There was no risk of anyone finding out - you were so intent on keeping the act up that nothing ever slipped you. It had been that way since middle school, and your senior year of high school was going to be no different.

Nobody was supposed to find out, so what was Park Sunghoon doing right in front of you in the frozen aisle of the corner convenience store, just when you happened to be bare-faced, with thick glasses on and a pimple bright red from just having been popped, in your comfiest pajamas, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s in hand?

“Kim Y/N? Y/N, is that you?”

You froze in place, not knowing how to react. There was no way this, your worst nightmare, was actually happening.

When you regained your senses, flight seemed the best way out of this. You avoided Sunghoon’s curious gaze and curtly replied, “No, sorry, I don’t know who that is,” before walking away, iron grip on the ice cream.

But the boy was quicker than you and grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to turn around. “It is you! Come on, Y/N, aren’t we friends? Do you not recognize me or something?”

If it wasn’t for the panic coursing through your veins at that moment, you might’ve laughed at his question. How could you not recognize the Park Sunghoon? Along with Park Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun, or Jay and Jake as they liked to be called, he was only the most popular guy in your year - hell, in the whole school. The three of them had gained attention from freshman year as the three handsome soccer players. Jake and Sunghoon had been attached at the hip since kindergarten, Jay joining them sometime in middle school when he came back from his year abroad in Seattle.

Your parents and Jay’s had been college best friends and you two had therefore grown up together, and even used to be quite close. You’d grown apart when he joined Jake and Sunghoon’s friend group, and although you still got on well, there was always a bit of an awkward atmosphere when you caught up with each other.

The three friends had quite different personalities but their complicity and shared history made them stick together. Jake was known for his academic achievements, rivaling yours, and his friendly personality; Jay, for his surprisingly funny antics once you got past the somewhat menacing appearance (which he blames on his resting bitch face). Sunghoon, on the other hand, was as cold as ice, so much that he’d earned the nickname of ice prince, but girls continued to swoon over him due to his incredibly handsome features. When turning down girls, Jake and Jay always tried to let them down gently, but Sunghoon wasn’t one to hold back: he’d laugh in their face or straight up say no, staring them right in the eyes. Most confessions ended in tears (not his, obviously), but girls kept on testing their luck, thinking they might be the one to melt the ice prince’s cold, dead heart.

Clearly, you weren’t Sunghoon’s biggest fan.

His behavior had always made you wonder why Jay and Jake were friends with a person like him. They went back a long time, but how did Sunghoon not become a nice and approachable person like his two best friends? They both seemed so genuine, but he looked like he was hiding something. This was what had made you weary of him; you knew all too well how easily an image that was the opposite of reality could be created. So on one hand, you sort of felt for him, thinking he might be in a similar situation as you. But on the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of jealousy: if you acted the way he did, you wouldn’t receive half the admiration you did. Hell, you’d probably be hated for it - no one likes a girl that’s both successful and bitchy about it.

One thing was sure, though, and that was that you wouldn’t call the two of you friends, as he just had.

“Y/N? You okay?”

The pure panic in your eyes must’ve made Sunghoon realize something was wrong. He released you and looked you up and down, trying to take your appearance in. The Y/N he was seeing right then was worlds away from the one he was accustomed to at school.

You realized there was no ignoring him, so you collected yourself and faced Sunghoon. “Uh, yeah, hi, Sunghoon. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew here.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, no wonder. You look quite… different from what you usually do,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm.

This whole situation got you dumbfounded. You usually knew exactly what to retort when somebody messed with you, your friend or a classmate, but this time, you were completely speechless. You just wanted to escape.

“Well, it was nice seeing you Sunghoon, but I need to get home.” You pivoted on your heels and started walking again, but Sunghoon had other plans.

“Aw, come on, so quickly? We barely got to chat!” He followed you through the aisles as you picked up the remaining ingredients on the list your mother had given you as quickly as you could.

“I didn’t know you needed glasses. Do you wear lenses at school?”

“Yes. I need them to see.”

“I figured.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and your shock was slowly morphing into anger. Were teenage girls so blind that they’d have a crush on someone with such an abominable personality, no matter how angelic his face was?

“I really like your outfit, by the way. Looks super comfy.” And as if your embarrassment couldn’t grow any bigger, he added: “Too bad you got a stain on the shirt.”

You looked down at yourself and noticed a huge grease stain on the collar of your shirt. Admittedly, you didn’t always have the best table manners.

You swore under your breath. It was quiet for a couple minutes as you arrived at the register and paid for your items, Sunghoon still on your tail. He had apparently given up his purchases to focus solely on tormenting you. When you walked out of the store, you thought he might finally be done. But of course, he wasn’t.

“You know, my sister has this really effective pimple cream she uses. Do you want me to ask her what brand it is?”

That was it. You sighed deeply. “Alright, Park. What do you want?”

When you turned to face him fully, arms crossing over your chest and an obviously tired expression on your face, the mischievous glint in his eyes made you realize something. That idiot was enjoying this.

Indeed, he beamed down at you. You had probably never seen him smiling so widely. “Wow, Y/N, didn’t know you could have such an attitude.”

You stayed silent and continued staring at him, waiting for an answer. He mirrored your pose, out of instinct or to irritate you, you weren’t sure.

“You know, when I moved to this neighborhood before the start of school, I was definitely not expecting to see Perfect Miss Y/N out in her pajamas buying ice cream. I thought you were more into, I don’t know, rescuing puppies from fires or something. That sounds like something you’d do in your free time.”

“Well, is there anything wrong with what I’m doing?”

“Oh, absolutely not! Just a surprising sight. Makes me wonder what the rest of the school would say…” He looked intently at you, clearly waiting for a reaction. You weren’t about to give him one, though.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, shifting your weight on your right foot. “Yeah, like anyone would believe you if you said you saw me looking anything else other than perfect.” It might’ve sounded arrogant, but that was the image people had of you. Even your friends asked you how you did it - if only they knew the truth.

At that, his smile got even brighter. “Don’t worry about that, I won’t need to tell anyone. I’ll just show them!” He pulled out his phone, showing you a picture of you in your god-awful pajamas searching for your favorite flavor of ice cream.

He watched as your face fell, taking your silence as an opportunity to go on. “You were so engrossed in the tubs of ice cream that you didn’t notice a dashingly handsome and tall young man very obviously taking pictures of you.”

This put you into panic mode again. It might have seemed foolish, but you hadn’t worked for years to create a perfect version of yourself only for a stupid boy to destroy it all with one picture.

You sighed and lowered your head, taking a moment to think. You didn’t know Sunghoon that well, but you didn’t put it past him to send that picture to everyone and ruin your image in the process. You opted for honesty instead of bluff. You took your glasses off and looked back up at him; even if you couldn’t see him as well without them, maybe he’d see the despair in your eyes better.

“Park. I mean, Sunghoon. You can’t show that picture to anyone, okay? You have no idea how bad I need to keep up appearances. It’s really important to me, so just delete the picture and let’s never talk about this again, yeah?”

You tried smiling at him, but his expression infuriated you. You could tell he had something else up his sleeve. “Now, Y/N, why would I do that? If I’m gonna do something for you, you should do something for me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the rest of his thoughts, but you needed to know. Eyeing him suspiciously, you told him to go on.

“Well, I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll let you know when I do, okay? I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He flashed another one of his smiles, patted your head, and walked away, just like that, leaving you standing outside the convenience store on your own, a melting tub of ice cream in your plastic bag. At least for now, you were safe.

Right?

—

“You saw Park Sunghoon? As in, the Park Sunghoon?” your little sister Yeeun asked, looking at you with huge eyes. You two and Sunoo were sitting on your bed, sharing the ice cream by eating it directly from the tub.

“Yes, that’s literally what I’ve been saying this whole time. How do you know him anyway? You’re still in middle school…”

“Are you crazy? He’s famous in our whole school district! I wish we had cute boys in my school as well,” she sulked, pouting.

“That’s not the point, Yeeun,” Sunoo chimed in, then turned to you. “Well, this is either bad news or the start of a beautiful romance.”

“Sunoo! Take this seriously! I’m in a huge dilemma right now.”

Your siblings shared a knowing glance and snickered.

“Hey! I’m right here. I’m not overreacting, you know. If he does send those pictures around, I’m done for.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you’d be so much better off if you could be yourself at school. I see you there almost everyday, and the way you laugh always sounds so fake. Nobody would care if you forgot to put makeup on one day or had a crease in your shirt. If anything, it’d make you look more human.”

You could see where Sunoo was coming from, but you chose to ignore it. You sighed deeply. “You guys just don’t get it. They all see me as this perfect, put-together girl. If I showed them even a glimpse of the truth, everything would shatter. It’s too late to go back now.” You ignored their pitying looks and took another big spoonful of ice cream.

It was their turn to sigh. As always, it was impossible to reason with you. Deep in your thoughts, you added: “You know, there was something really off about him today. I’d never seen him act that way before.”

Your siblings looked at you questioningly. “He’s always so cold and distant towards everyone. I’ve only seen him smile when he’s laughing with Jake and Jay or when he makes fun of someone. But just now, he kept smiling at me like he was having fun. He even patted my head when he left.”

At that, Yeeun swooned dramatically, hands over her heart. You looked over at her and said, “I’d be swooning too if it was any other guy than Park Sunghoon. I’m more confused than anything right now, he was a completely different person from when I see him at school.”

They exchanged another look. “You guys stop doing that!”

“Well, it’s just that that sounds an awful lot like someone I know,” Sunoo replied. Realization hit you and you scoffed, mildly offended. At least you were nice to others at school and didn’t act like an asshole with a superiority complex.

“Anyway,” he continued, “what will you do about Sunghoon?”

“I’m not too sure. I guess all I can do is wait and see whatever it is he could want from me.”

“Yeah, do that, and then date him, please. If I can’t have him as my boyfriend, then I’ll have him as my brother-in-law,” Yeeun joked. You didn’t have it in you to retort anything back and started laughing along with her.

If everything did shatter, at least you’d have your siblings to make you laugh.

—

The next day, you made your way to the bus stop after your daily morning routine: jogging, showering, eating a filling breakfast, choosing the perfect accessories for your school uniform, applying just the right amount of makeup and going over your subjects and tasks of the day. As always, efficiency is the key. You had become so used to this routine that your body did it on its own, which let your mind wander wherever it pleased. Usually, you’d use this time to prepare yourself for the day ahead, but today, the only thing on your mind was Park Sunghoon. What was that boy up to? Was he up to anything, or did you completely imagine his mischievousness yesterday? In any case, you hoped it would all be over soon.

You got on the bus and sat down next to Sumin. Your close friend group at school consisted of her, Park Sieun, Lee Heeseung and Choi Jiung, but she was the only one who knew about your secret. You had been friends for so long that you hadn’t even been able to hide it: she’d seen you from all angles, both before, during and after your transformation to who you were now. It was nice having someone else than your siblings to rely on and tell everything to.

“Minie, you’ll never guess what happened yesterday. I ran into Park Sunghoon at the convenience store next to our apartment unit.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but her reaction wasn’t as big as you thought it’d be. She smiled and said, “Huh! I knew he’d moved to our neighborhood, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d live so close to you that you’d even shop at the same place.”

She registered your confused expression and continued. “Didn’t you hear? He moved out of his parents’ house at the end of summer. Something about a huge fight with them that made him move out. But there are always so many rumors about him and his group that I don’t know what to believe.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, unsure what to say. Now that you thought about it, Sunghoon had mentioned moving in your conversation yesterday, but you were so preoccupied with him seeing you in your wild state that you hadn’t paid much attention to his comment.

“Wait, did he do something? Your face is telling me he did something.”

You got closer to her face and gestured for her to do the same. With lowered heads and in hushed tones, you said, “He saw me on off-mode.”

She gasped and jolted back in surprise, eyes wide and eyebrows shooting straight up. “What?”

You shushed her and pulled her in by her shoulders. “He even took pictures.” Your grip tight, you held her from jumping again. “That’s not even it. You know how he's always really cold and distant?”

“You mean how he’s always being a douchebag?” She scoffed. “Yeah, I know.”

You remembered that Sumin had been one of the first of many girls who shot their shot with Park Sunghoon, only to get rejected. You both grimaced at the memory that always left a bad taste in your mouth.

“He was completely different yesterday. Kept following me around the store and, I’m not sure, teasing me? Like trying to get a reaction out of me? In a weird half-friendly half-bully way.”

“Hm, you’re right, that doesn’t sound like him,” she mused. “It does sound like a stupid teenage boy though, which I guess he is, no matter how hard he tries to pretend he’s not.”

This is what you loved about Sumin. She could see right through people, and never hesitated to say what she thought of them, especially when they acted the way Sunghoon did. Sure, there were some personal feelings attached there, but she had quickly gotten over them when she realized how much of a douche he was towards everyone else.

When the bus stopped to pick up some more students, Heeseung hopped on. You quickly told Sumin to keep it a secret, at which she smiled and made a motion as if zipping her lips and throwing the key. If you told your friends about Sunghoon, you’d have to tell them the truth about how he had dirt on you, but you wanted to keep your friendship clean. You chatted the rest of the bus ride away and tried not to worry over Park Sunghoon too much.

When you finally got to school, you, Heeseung, and Sumin made your way to your classroom to join Jiung and Sieun. Before you could get there, however, Jungwon, an underclassman you had talked to a couple times for student council meetings, called out your name. You told your friends to go on without you and turned to the younger boy.

“Jungwon! Hi, what’s up?”

He seemed flattered that you had remembered his name but quickly got on with his business. “Um, I’m not sure why, but Sunghoon told me to come and get you? I’ve never talked to him, I think he just picked me randomly and assigned me a task…”

You sighed. Park Sunghoon truly was something. “Thanks for telling me, Jungwon. I’ll make sure he gets an earful for this, he has no right to boss students around like that.”

Jungwon’s eyes doubled in size as he frantically waved his hands in dismissal. “No! No need to do that, I don’t want to get in trouble with him. I’m just here to relay the message.” At that, he scurried off, and you headed towards Sunghoon’s homeroom.

When you walked in, a few people were in the room, some girls gossiping with each other, a couple students doing some last-minute revision for a test. You found Sunghoon sitting at his desk, snickering with Jay and Jake and hoped that the subject of their laughter wasn’t you. They noticed you approaching and the two decent boys greeted you; the other one eyed you, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. What could he possibly have in mind?

“Hi, guys.” You smiled at Jay and Jake and reflexively stood closer to Jay. “Sunghoon, Jungwon said you wanted to see me?” you asked, trying to keep your impatience at bay.

“Oh, was that his name? Well, thank heavens for him, ‘cause I forgot my lunch at home. Would you be a sweetheart and go buy me something at the cafeteria? You know how everything runs out as soon as lunch period starts, and I get really cranky when I’m hungry.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. His two friends’ reaction wasn’t very different from yours. Go buy him lunch? That’s what he wanted you to do?

“What? You don’t want to? That’s too bad, cause there’s a picture I think everybo-”

You cut him off before he could finish. “No! Of course I’ll do it! Can’t have our star player go hungry, now can we?” You cringed at your own words and Jay eyed you suspiciously. Sunghoon beamed, and Jake’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of you in pure confusion. “Um, any preferences?”

His smile got wider. “A tuna mayo would be amazing. Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!”

“Sure…” you mumbled and quickly walked away, more bemused than ever. You checked your watch. You had 10 minutes before the first bell rang, and you could not be late for class, which meant you needed to hurry.

You got back to Sunghoon’s classroom just a minute before the first bell. To your dismay, the class was almost full, and girls had gathered around him, trying to get his attention, but he seemed unbothered by their presence. You braced yourself and walked towards him. As your presence rarely went by unnoticed, most eyes were on you and Sunghoon. Not only were you two some of the most popular kids in school, you also happened to be handing him his lunch, a never-seen-before sight between the two of you.

“I also got you banana milk, for good measure…”

What had seemed like a great idea a few minutes ago, something to appease the devil in him, now felt like the biggest mistake of your life. The girls around him started whispering left and right and you weren’t sure whether they felt bad for you, sensing an incoming rejection, or wanted to tear you to shreds for even trying.

The whispers grew even louder when Sunghoon took the sandwich and milk from your hands, thanking you with a smile. You’d be lying if you said your heart hadn’t done a small jump in your chest at that moment. As much as you hated to admit it, if looks were the sole factor for popularity, then you could definitely understand why Park Sunghoon was so loved. His face looked like it had been carved by the gods themselves. When his eyebrows weren’t turned in a frown, his eyes looked almost sweet, especially when he laughed. His two moles gave him so much charm, the curve of his nose was so delicate and his pink lips looked so, so soft…

You cleared your throat and smiled back at him before turning around to walk to your own classroom.

“Wait, Y/N!”

You turned back around, all eyes on you. You could feel Jay’s eyes burning holes into you. Sunghoon was still smiling. You thought you’d seen him smile more in the past two days than you had in all the years you’d known him.

“I’ll see you later.”

—

And indeed see him later you did. You always hung back a bit after classes ended to get homework done or work out student council issues. Being in an empty classroom brought you some peace and quiet, very different from the busyness and noise of your home. You couldn’t even focus in your own room, your siblings or parents always barging in to disturb you. The after-school janitors now knew you by name and saved cleaning the classroom you were sitting in for last.

You had been barely sitting there for 5 minutes, nose buried in a math problem, when Park Sunghoon graciously strode in, swung the chair in front of you around and sat on it, arms crossed over its back as he peered at you. You didn’t even bother to look up at him as you spoke. “What, Park?”

“Oh no, back to last name basis already?” he joked. You didn’t laugh. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wow, tough crowd. Anyways, thanks for the sandwich today.”

This made you look at him. Or rather, shoot daggers at him. “Yeah, what the hell was that all about? Did you have to pull that little stunt in front of everybody? You know what our school is like! Rumors are gonna start spreading like wildfire.”

“I already told you,” he said with a defensive tone. “Forgot my lunch, everything was gonna run out, didn’t want to get hungry later,” he said as he shrugged, completely ignoring the latter part of your complaint.

“And you couldn’t have gone and gotten it yourself?”

He beamed. If it wasn’t so damn beautiful, you probably would have started getting tired of his stupid smile already. “Why would I do that when I could get you to do it?”

You sighed. “I knew you weren’t the nicest guy, but I didn’t know you could be such an asshole, Park.”

If you hadn’t been staring him down so intently, you might not have noticed the falter in his smile, so quick it was.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. If anything, I’m doing you a favor by not sending out to everyone that picture you so desperately want to keep secret. Thing is, doing that wouldn’t benefit me in any way, except for getting the satisfaction of seeing everybody realize you’re not as perfect as they think you are. Whereas holding it over your head allows me to do basically anything I want with you. And that, that is just so much fun,” he beams, lowering his voice into a whisper for the last sentence.

What a psycho, you thought. You just sighed once more and returned to your textbook, too weirded out to say anything back. You hoped the silence would make Sunghoon realize how creepy what he had just said was.

It was quiet in the room, only the sound of your pencil scratching your notebook could be heard. Sunghoon sat in the same position and watched you working. He often saw you like this, focused and benched over a desk, in the library or walking past your classroom. But it was always in passing, and looking at you so closely made all the world’s difference. He could see how you scrunched your nose when the problem got particularly difficult, or how your smirk as you solved another one made your left dimple appear. He also liked the annoyed looks you gave him every once in a while, as if his presence was disturbing your focus. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something about seeing someone who always went about their way with such purpose sitting in such silence.

He decided to break that silence. “You know, Jay was asking about you earlier.”

You kept your eyes trained on your notebook but abruptly stopped writing, your pencil leaving a small scratch on the paper. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon. “Did he?” you said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, although you couldn’t help but be curious. Ever since Jay and you had grown apart, there was always a part of you wondering what he was up to, how he was doing, if he thought of you once in a while or reminisced about the good old times as you sometimes did.

“Yeah. I mean, everyone did, but I didn’t really care,” he answers simply, and even though you’re itching to push him to say more, you stay quiet. “You’re right, by the way, I do know the people in our school. The rumors have already started spreading. Up to you whether you wanna deny them or not, though,” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t even think about it, Park. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let them think we have a thing going on. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I know. Anyway, he wanted to know why you did that for me. Guess he was jealous you didn’t do it for him, too.”

“Why would he be?” you asked, trying to make the question sound as innocent as possible.

“Well, you two go a long way back, right?” he asked tentatively, as if testing the waters.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then it was probably weird for him to see his childhood best friend and his best bro interacting out of nowhere, even though we’ve both seen each other around a lot and nothing has ever come out of that. Don’t you think?”

A beat passed as you thought about it. “Yeah, I guess that’d look weird to him,” you replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

You quickly wrote down your last answer, packed up your things, and stood up. “Well, I’m off now. I’ll see you around, unfortunately.”

Sunghoon, surprised at your quick departure, scrambled to get off his chair and chased after you. “Do you want me to drop you off? I’ve got a car, you know. Much more glamorous than the bus.”

You turned around and looked at him. “I’d rather get hit by said bus than get in your car, Park.”

He stood there, watching you walk away with a smirk on his face as your ponytail swayed from side to side. This was going to be a challenge. You were going to be a challenge.

Thing is, he loved a good challenge.

—

Back home, you flopped down on your bed and buried your face in your pillow. You laid there for a few minutes, taking some time to gather your thoughts and try to understand Sunghoon’s actions. It was of no use; you weren’t a mind-reader, and he seemed impossible to figure out. He could make you do basically whatever he wanted to, and he decided to make you get him lunch, creating rumors along the way? What could he possibly get out of that?

Your reflexions were quickly interrupted, however, by a flurry of incoming messages on your phone. Someone had posted a photo of you handing his banana milk to Sunghoon on your school’s Instagram account - because apparently, your school was so obsessed with gossip that they had created an Instagram page just for it. The photo had blown up among your peers and it made you wonder if people really were that bored with their lives.

People you barely knew but that felt entitled to knowing your relationship status were DMing you, asking about today’s events. You quickly got tired of it, so you texted your worried and confused friends that you didn’t feel like talking tonight and would catch up with them tomorrow. You opened your textbook, deciding that studying would be the best and most efficient distraction.

When your parents called you and your siblings for dinner, you still weren’t feeling great. Your family quickly registered your annoyed expression and could only hope for the best. You already weren’t the easiest to live with, but when you were tired, you just got a hundred times worse.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” your mom asked cheerily.

Yeeun’s eyes lit up instantly. “Mine was great! I met a really cute boy. His name is Nishimura Riki and he just transferred from Japan.”

“Oh, that’s nice!”

“You’re too young to be thinking about boys, Yeeun.”

Your mom and dad had replied at the same time, then gave each other a stern look.

“I’m not thinking about him, Dad, just looking,” your sister replied, earning a chuckle from your concerned father.

“Mine was alright. I guess the start-of-a-new-year excitement has already worn off. After a week,” Sunoo said with a sigh.

Your mom turned to you. “What about you, Y/N?”

“It was fine.”

The sharpness of your tone changed the atmosphere in the room at once. You ignored the looks your family exchanged and continued eating your food, eyes not leaving your plate.

For some reason, Sunoo thought it’d be a great idea to chime in. “She’s not happy because she had to buy Park Sunghoon his lunch and everybody went crazy over it.”

“Sunoo!” you protested. Your parents didn’t need to know about this sort of stuff.

“Park Sunghoon? Is that someone we’re supposed to know?” your dad questioned.

Yeeun scoffed. “Uh, he’s only the most popular and handsome guy at Y/N and Sunoo’s school, dad. Duh.”

“Right. Duh,” your dad said, imitating your sister’s tone.

“And why did you have to buy his lunch, Y/N?” your mom asked.

“Because he saw what she looks like when she’s not at school,” Sunoo said, not even giving you the chance to reply yourself.

“Sunoo!” you scolded again.

“And now I guess he’s using that against her to get her to do what he wants? Right, Y/N?”

You glared at your brother and let a beat pass. “Right,” you reluctantly admitted.

“Lucky…” your sister mused, expression like she was daydreaming about being Sunghoon’s personal assistant.

Your dad ignored your sister and looked straight at you. “That’s inadmissible, Y/N. You can’t let him do that.”

“Your father’s right, sweetie. It’s not right,” your mom added when you stayed silent.

With everybody’s eyes on you, you felt obligated to reply. “It’s fine. It’s not like he asked me to do anything crazy. I’m sure he’ll stop soon enough.”

“You know, boys that age, they’ll do anything to get a girl’s attention,” your dad warned. “Just ignore him and he’ll go away.”

“If she ignores him, he’ll tell everyone what she’s really like,” your brother explained.

“And what’s so bad about that? I’m sure it’d be easier if you stopped lying to everyone.”

Everyone suddenly stopped in their motions, wondering why your mom would say something so true yet so controversial. You looked up at her. “What’s so bad about that? What’s so bad? I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve worked so hard all these years for everybody to like me and look up to me only for a stupid picture taken by a stupid boy to ruin everything,” you said all in one breath, voice coming out harsh. You were tired of having to explain the same thing over and over again - your parents just didn’t understand why you did what you did.

Your mom opened and closed her mouth again, knowing it was useless trying to talk sense into you. It never ended well when you had this conversation.

“Who put mushrooms in this anyway? You know I hate mushrooms,” you said before filling up your bowl and taking it to eat in your room, making sure you’d slammed your door behind you.

—

On the bus the next day, you tried to explain the events of the previous day to your friends.

“There’s nothing really to it. He just asked me to get him lunch so I did, and when I handed it to him, his whole class was there and saw everything.”

“I get that, but I just don’t understand why he made you do it in the first place, or why you agreed,” Heeseung said, “it’s so unlike the both of you to do something like that.”

You hadn’t even thought to come up with an excuse for your and Sunghoon’s yesterday - your friends were definitely super confused, but you didn’t want to tell them the truth, so you had to quickly find something to say that was somewhat believable, and change the subject.

“I have no idea why he did what he did, but I didn’t want to cause a scene so I just agreed. I don’t really care, to be honest, I just wish it didn’t have such consequences. People seem to think we’re characters on a stupid Netflix coming-of-age series or something, when we literally just go to their school.”

As soon as you’d turned your phone back on this morning, it started pinging with all the messages that had flown in since last night. People were talking about it everywhere: Kim Y/N, highly sought-after bachelorette, had offered Park Sunghoon, notorious rejecter of girls and breaker of hearts, a sandwich and a banana milk, and he had taken them. What’s more, he had been seen at lunch heartily eating them. This was serious.

You didn’t think things could get any worse until you got to school. You were used to random people coming up to you in the hallways or in class for help, except today they weren’t asking for help at all - they were asking what was up between you and Sunghoon, as though handing him a tuna mayo was like asking for his hand in marriage. Most of them were just curious, but some, especially his fanclub members, had an aggressive tone to their voice, which you weren’t used to. If people started liking you less because of Sunghoon, you were going to kill him.

But you had to hold onto that thought, because an all too familiar voice had suddenly called out to you on your way to class. You took a deep breath and turned around, watching him take long strides towards you. You immediately became aware of the amount of people in the hallway and realized you couldn’t talk to him like you had the previous day in front of everybody. You mustered the fakest smile you could and greeted him.

“Hi, Sunghoon. What can I help you with today?”

He smiled, obviously enjoying the fact that you had to be nice to him. “I’ve got my sports bag because of practice later tonight. Mind holding onto that for me for the day?”

Your fake smile turned a bit crazy as your eyes widened in disbelief. "Don’t you have a locker for that, Sunghoon?”

“Yeah, but it’s so much more fun if you’re the one to hold it.” And with that, he threw the bag in your direction, leaving approximately 0.5 seconds to catch it. “I’ll need that later today. Meet me in front of the locker rooms after school, yeah?”

He didn’t bother to wait for your answer and walked away, Jake and Jay following closely behind. Jay sent you a questioning look, to which you could only reply with a shrug. If it wasn’t for all the students in the hallway, you would’ve been yelling Sunghoon’s ear off at that point. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a possibility, so you just smiled to your friends who were looking more confused than ever.

“Let’s just go to class, guys.”

—

Throughout the whole day, you could feel people staring at you, then at the bag you were holding, then starting to whisper among themselves. You tried your best to concentrate in class so you could momentarily stop pondering over what Sunghoon’s evil master plan might be, but everyone seemed bent on making that usually simple feat impossible. When 3:30 p.m. finally came around, you bid your friends goodbye and headed to the boys’ locker room. Every boy walking in eyed you suspiciously, unsure as to what you could be doing there. Of course, Sunghoon had to take his sweet time to get there.

Staring at the opposite wall and planning Sunghoon’s murder in your head, you hadn’t noticed Jay and Jake arriving. Jay signaled for his friend to go inside the locker room and told him he’d join him in a minute. He waved his hand in front of you to get your attention, a smile on his face. You sighed in relief at the familiar sight of your friend.

“Hey, Jay. Sorry I didn’t see you.”

“You okay, Y/N? You look like you’re about to murder someone,” he said, slightly amused.

“If only you knew,” you mumbled.

He noticed the bag in your hand. “You waiting for Sunghoon?”

“Yeah. If only he could hurry up a little bit. I’ve got stuff to do.”

There was something about Jay that made it impossible to lie to him. Maybe it was the fact that you had known each other for so long, way before you’d turned into what you were now, that made you feel as though showing a side of you that gets annoyed and impatient and doesn’t smile all the time was okay.

Jay looked at his feet before looking back up at you. You were still staring at the wall but your murderous thoughts had somewhat calmed. “Mind telling me what this whole thing with Sunghoon is about?”

You turned to him and were about to fumble for an answer when someone interrupted you. “What whole thing with me?”

Whew. Saved by Sunghoon. You didn’t like that it was thanks to him that you could get out of answering Jay, but at least you didn’t have to come up with yet another stupid excuse.

Jay turned his attention to his friend and stood up straighter. “You know, making her get you lunch or hold your bag all day. There’s dozens of girls who’d be more than happy to do that for you, so why Y/N? She doesn’t have time for this stuff.”

You looked at Jay with surprise. Sure, you were friends, but you hadn’t thought he’d defend you like that in front of Sunghoon.

“Well, Y/N’s just such a nice, reliable person. No one better to ask to do those things.” What a reason, you thought. He turned to you and took the bag from your hands. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll see you outside in a couple minutes.”

“Huh? What do you mean? I’m leaving,” you said, body already headed towards the other direction.

“What? You can’t leave before practice has even started. Go to the benches outside, we’ll be out in a few.”

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. “You don’t want to?” He started pulling out his phone. “That’s funny, because there’s a pict-”

“I’ll be on the benches! See you soon!” you quickly said, pushing the two boys inside the locker room, Sunghoon smirking, Jay looking at you in utter confusion.

Girls sat in a few different groups in the bleachers. You recognized the girls in one of those groups, so you decided to sit with them. As you approached, they quickly looked at each other and then back at you, expressions half-friendly, half-what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here.

“Hi guys! Mind if I join?”

“Hi Y/N! No, of course not, come sit,” Jake’s girlfriend, Yujin, said.

“Are you guys here to watch practice?”

“Yeah! I’m here on girlfriend duties for Jake. These two are just here for the eye candy and to keep me company,” Yujin explained.

“Yeah, but mostly for the eye candy,” added her friend Wonyoung.

“What about you, Y/N? I’ve never seen you here,” asked the last girl, Gaeul.

“Oh, um, Sunghoon asked me to come, actually.” You regretted your words as soon as you’d let them out. They all ooh-ed at your response, making you blush, which just egged them on. This was nothing to blush about, Y/N. You’d just made the rumors get a hundred times worse with one sentence.

“The whole school’s been talking about you two, you know. Anything you wanna share? Don’t worry, we can keep a secret,” said Wonyoung with a wink. You chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh my gosh, yes, tell us!”

“Guys, don’t make her uncomfortable,” Yujin chimed in, smiling at you. You returned her smile, grateful, once again, that you didn’t have to explain your new link to Sunghoon. “Look, practice is starting.”

You turned your head towards the field as the soccer players started doing laps as per the coach’s instructions. Your eyes immediately drifted towards Sunghoon without you even realizing it. His lean figure hypnotized you. The last time you had had PE with him was in freshman year, and puberty had hit him like a fine, fine truck. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he lightly jogged next to his friends, chatting like it was nothing. You weren’t being very subtle with your stare and he eventually noticed you, sending a wink your way. This made you snap out of your reverie and you scowled at him, as if he could make out your annoyed expression from such a distance. You turned back to the girls, who were giggling at you.

“Wow, those were some serious heart eyes you were giving him, Y/N,” Gaeul giggled.

You opened your mouth in mild shock. “Was not!”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she replied knowingly. “Well, look all you want. Warm-up is the best part. It gets boring when they actually start playing.”

“No way! Watching them play is my favorite part,” Yujin disagreed.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’ve got someone to root for,” retorted Wonyoung. She looked at you slyly. “Well, I guess Y/N does, too.”

You scoffed. “Believe me, I will not be rooting for him.”

You started staring at him again, this time with a glare in your eyes. From their silence, you deduced the girls must’ve judged it a better idea to not question you too much. After the boys were done with running exercises and stretching (which you had enjoyed watching a bit too much, if you spoke truthfully), they started playing. The coach split the boys into two teams, Jay leading one and Sunghoon the other. It was a very close game. You could never tell who was leading, although that might have been due to your extensive lack of knowledge in the sport. All you knew was that you desperately wanted to see Sunghoon lose; that might put him down a peg. What you told yourself, however, was that you wanted Jay to win. So when he scored a goal, you surprised the girls next to you, the boys on the field and yourself as you jumped up and down, cheering for him. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly sat down and sent him an awkward thumbs up.

Jay tried to hide it, but he was blushing. Hard. Truth be told, he had noticed your little eye contact moment with Sunghoon during warm-up and hadn’t particularly enjoyed it. So seeing you cheer for him like that made him swell with pride, which only grew when Sunghoon scored and you barely reacted.

When the game was over, you thought you might be able to finally go home and start studying. But Sunghoon had other plans for you, as always these past couple days. Heading towards the showers, he motioned for you to come down from the benches. As you did, Jay walked past, and you smiled at each other.

“Good game.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He continued walking as Sunghoon reached you.

“What about me? I scored a goal, too.”

“Oh, did you? Didn’t even notice," you said, looking at your nails. The polish was starting to chip - you’d need to reapply a layer tonight.

“Whatever. Wait for me, yeah?”

“What? No! I gotta go home!” But your protests were in vain, as he completely ignored you.

You waited outside the school with Yujin, Wonyoung and Gaeul. After a little while, Jake, Jay and Sunghoon joined you guys, having successfully showered and not smelling of sweat and dirt, thank God. Yujin was dropping her boyfriend and her friends off, so they bid their goodbyes and headed towards her car. Sunghoon and Jay also started to walk towards the parking lot, leaving you standing alone, not sure what to do. Sunghoon turned around and looked at you with a frown.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, what are you doing?”

“I’m dropping you and Jay off.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, taken aback. “Didn’t know I was just supposed to guess that.”

As soon as Sunghoon started to drive, you noticed the awkward air between the three of you. Luckily, after years of being a people-pleaser, you had become somewhat of an expert in making small talk, which helped prevent a silent ride. You don’t think you could’ve gone through that without a mental breakdown.

Because you and Sunghoon lived closer to each other (and we all know the consequences of that), Jay was dropped off before you. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at school,” he said before giving you a last glance.

“Bye, Jay.”

“See you, bro.”

Thankfully, you only lived a couple minutes by car from Jay’s and hoped the rest of the car ride would be peaceful. Which was really stupid of you to hope for, because you were in the car with Park Sunghoon.

“So, Park Jongseong, huh?” he said, eyes trained on the road in front of him. Even though he was trying to keep his tone light, you thought you detected a slight harshness to his gaze.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“There’s nothing to say. We’ve just been friends for a long time.”

It was silent for about five seconds. “You really feasted your eyes during warm-up, huh?”

“Shut up, Park.”

“No, it’s alright, I get it. I’d do the same.” He laughed at his own joke that wasn’t really a joke. Why was he laughing, anyway?

You looked at him. His face was so different from all those times you’d seen it at school. His eyes, rid of the harshness you’d seen earlier, crinkled at the edges and had an amused glint in them. His smile dug pretty dimples into his cheeks and you let your gaze linger long enough to notice he had sharp, vampire-like canines, which were surprisingly cute. You didn’t know why he was showing you a side of him he never showed anyone, except for his close friends, you assumed. You weren’t sure what overcame you, but you chuckled with him.

“So, do you already know what task you’re gonna give me tomorrow?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Hmm, haven’t really thought about it yet. I’d rather keep it a surprise, anyway. Keep you on your toes.”

“Pfft. What a great surprise.” He laughed again, and you couldn’t help but join him. He was unusually giddy that day, but you didn’t want to complain. This was a thousand times better than the arrogant Sunghoon with his I’m-better-than-all-of-you facade. What you didn’t know was that he, too, liked your snarky, no-nonsense side infinitely more than the model student, pretty girl persona you had created for yourself.

Finally at your house, you got out of the car and headed to your house after waving goodbye to Sunghoon. He rolled his window down and leaned out of it.

“Y/N?”

You turned around. “Yeah?”

“About your task tomorrow…”

“…Yeah?”

“I’m sure you’ll love it.” He gave you an umpteenth wink, rolled his window back up and drove off.

You weren’t so awful to your parents and siblings that evening.

—

The next day at school, you were wondering why Sunghoon had said you would love your task. Because you were, in fact, quite loathing it. He had found you studying during your free period after lunch and dragged you to the part of the library where it was okay to talk a bit over whisper level. You were currently going over a scene in The Tempest which you had seen in AP English Lit last year and clearly had no time for. But obviously, that wasn’t a problem to Sunghoon, who just wanted to get a passing grade on his English essay without putting in too much effort.

After twenty minutes of going over the same five lines, you were about to give up. “Look, Sunghoon, I don’t mind helping you. I’ve tutored dozens of students before so I’m used to it. But you’re not making any effort! If you want to get it, you need to at least try.”

“But it’s so boring,” he whined, not unlike a child. “How am I supposed to find any meaning in this? It’s just stupid people doing stupid stuff on a stupid island.” You cringed at his words and hoped Shakespeare wasn’t listening in on this conversation.

“It’s not stupid. It’s about power, and being punished for chasing it, and it’s a metaphor fo-”

“Ugh!” he groaned loudly. “You know what, I don’t care enough about this. Just write the essay for me, okay?” He got up and left, again not waiting for your answer. You wanted to protest, but you know what would happen if you said no to any of his requests, so you just quickly got to work.

Everyday over the next couple of weeks, Sunghoon would find something for you to do. Most days, he’d just get you to buy him lunch (although he thankfully had started paying you back) or carry his stuff around like the first two times. He didn’t ask you again to tutor him, however, so you had gotten used to sitting in an empty class together after class, you doing his homework for him and attempting (and failing) to explain it to him, and him alternating between playing on his phone and looking at you. Although it’d flustered you at first, not used to having someone stare at you while you were trying to concentrate, you’d grown somewhat okay with it - all of your complaints were ignored anyway. One time, he even got you to work on his science project with him, a weirdly-shaped volcano he needed to paint and decorate before actually putting the chemicals in. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been fun painting it together, occasionally ‘accidentally’ getting paint on the other’s hand or cheek instead of the volcano.

You went to see him at practice two to three times a week, although you weren’t sure what use that had for him. If anything, you were probably the one who enjoyed yourself more. Perhaps, after being forced to spend so much time with him, you had started to soften up to him. And, perhaps, that made you appreciate his good looks even more. You couldn’t deny the effect his damp hair, stuck to his forehead with sweat, had on you.

The rumors hadn’t died down, but people had started getting used to seeing the two of you together around, so they didn’t ogle their eyes at you everytime you and Sunghoon had some kind of interaction. Not liking that you couldn’t control people’s opinion of you anymore, you were still a bit bothered by them, but Sunghoon’s little posse of fangirls didn’t seem to be. They’d been the one to question you the most, and you got a few nasty looks in the hallway, but the gossip around school hadn’t stopped them from keeping on following him around, harassing him from morning to afternoon by going to his homeroom at breaks, sitting at a table near him at lunch, and going to see him at practice. Their group had dwindled down, though; most likely, some of them thought you two might be dating and had finally realized they didn’t stand a chance with the one and only Park Sunghoon. Thank God you had your friends and now sometimes Yujin, Wonyoung and Gaeul around you during those times, otherwise, you’d probably have been jumped. Spending so much time with him had kept you a couple times from your friends, which they’d complained about, but sensing that they couldn’t do much about it, they let you be, even though they hadn’t gotten a satisfactory explanation yet.

One person who didn’t want to, or rather couldn’t let it go, though, was Jay. He still couldn’t figure out why you’d started spending so much time with Sunghoon, seemingly overnight, and it created an unpleasant, sour pit in his stomach. Out of all the people you could’ve decided to form a new friendship with, why’d it have to be his best friend, meaning he saw you more often now than before, but not because he was the one you had come to see? Why did you never get him banana milk for lunch, and why’d you only start coming to soccer practice because Sunghoon had asked you to? He’d tried to ask both of you about it, but you always gave him half-assed excuses that didn’t make much sense.

He realized what he was feeling was jealousy the day you came into their homeroom before the first bell rang and asked Sunghoon how his science project had gone. You’d never asked him how his science project, or any of his projects or tests, for that matter, had gone. He recognized it as the same feeling he had harbored when he had come back from the US in middle school and saw you dating Choi Soobin, or when Lee Heeseung had joined your tight-knit group of friends in freshman year. You and Soobin had only dated for three weeks and a half because you had a relationship-terminating argument over mint chocolate ice cream, and you and Heeseung had never become more than friends, nor had the intention to. But Jay didn’t care about that; all he saw was that there were boys around you that weren’t him. He had never acted upon those feelings, dismissing them as over-protectiveness for someone he had known since forever, but seeing Sunghoon and you laughing together hit too close to home. He couldn’t ignore how he felt because he was reminded of it everyday, but he didn’t know what to do with these newfound emotions.

And what’s the best thing to do whenever you don’t know what to do? Talk to your friends. Or well, in this case, your friend. He didn’t wanna talk about you to Sunghoon. He was a firm believer of bro code, but he didn’t wanna bottle up his feelings like he had all these years. So he went to Jake and told him everything, from your childhood friendship to Soobin, Heeseung and now Sunghoon.

“I know it’s stupid. It’s this whole cliché of, you only realize what you have when you lose it.”

“Well, you haven’t really lost Y/N, you know. It’s not like Sunghoon and her are dating.”

“I guess not, but he clearly likes her. It’d be a dick move to go after her now that they’ve got something going on.”

Jake hesitated for a second, debating whether he should say what he was thinking, but ultimately deciding it might be better to do it. “You know, I’m not sure that he does. You know what Sunghoon’s like. He’s never very honest about his intentions. I don’t wanna bring the subject up with him, cause I don’t wanna cause any drama, but it’s so suspicious to me that he’s suddenly spending time with Y/N when he’s never mentioned her all those years and when he rejects all these girls all the time.”

“I think it’s weird, too,” agreed Jay. “I just can’t seem to figure it out. And I’m a bit scared for Y/N, to be honest. Remember that girl in freshman year? They’d gotten along really well when he suddenly dropped her. I still remember his cold-ass stare when he turned her down. It even chilled me, man.”

“God, yeah, I always forget about that. He may be a jackass to all those girls, but when you know what he’s really like like we do, it seems so unlikely that he’d do something like that.”

Jay sighed and looked out into the distance. “I just hope he doesn’t hurt Y/N.”

Jake looked at his friend, thinking how to phrase his next sentence. “Like I said, I don’t wanna cause any drama… but, man, if you don’t want him to hurt Y/N, just don’t let him. If you make a move on her, you might get to her before he does. Better to do that now than to have to pick up the pieces, don’t you think?”

Jay mentally thanked the heavens for gifting him with a friend like Sim Jaeyun. “Yes, that is much, much better.”

He was going to stop sitting on his feelings and finally let them see the light.

—

But before that, Sunghoon had another one of his requests for you. You were sitting together in an empty classroom after school as you often did these past weeks. For you, today was an ordinary day, but the boy in front of you had something else in mind. He wasn’t saying anything but you could feel his nervousness and it was starting to make you feel anxious as well.

You lifted your head from your notes and looked at Sunghoon who seemed lost in his thoughts. “What is it, Sunghoon?”

This made him snap out of his reverie. “Um, nothing.”

“Well, seeing how you’ve been tapping your foot at the speed of lightning ever since we got here, it doesn’t seem like nothing.” You crossed your arms over the table and looked at him more intently, eyes asking him to tell you what was on his mind.

He sighed, giving in. “I was just thinking… there’s something I wanna tell you.”

“Go on. “

“I need you to date me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Park Sunghoon… needed you… to date him? Was he asking you out? The way he’d worded it was a bit odd, but you didn’t put it past him.

Taking in your silence and wide eyes, he quickly added: “Not in that way! I, um, need you to be my fake girlfriend.”

Oh.

So he wasn’t asking you out. You weren’t sure why that made you so upset, but you tried to keep the disappointment out of your eyes and voice.

“Right,” you said, tone a bit harsher than you’d meant it to, “and why would I do that?”

Sunghoon smirked lightly. “Well, first of all, you don’t have much of a choice.” You rolled your eyes at that. It’d been a few days since the reason why you had started hanging out in the first place had come up, and you didn’t like to be reminded of that god-forsaken picture.

“And second of all… I guess I should be completely honest with you.” This piqued your interest, and you leaned back on your chair to listen to him.

“When I saw you at the store and took pictures of you, I wasn’t really thinking of doing anything. Maybe just get a laugh or two and tease you about it. I even told you outside the store that I didn’t know what I was gonna do. To be honest, I didn’t really think there was anything you could do for me that I’d need to force you to do. So I thought about it all night. And I asked myself, what’s the thing that pisses me off the most at school that you could change?” he looked at you expectantly, as if you could figure it out. You just shrugged.

“It’s those girls that keep following me around. All these years, I’ve acted like a giant asshole with them and still they think they have a crush on me or whatever. And I’ve never liked any of them, they’re all so superficial and ask me out without having ever talked to me before. So I thought, hey, maybe if I have a girlfriend, they’ll leave me alone. Which is why I made you do all those things for me.”

“So that they’d think we were dating?” you asked, trying to take all this information in. You’d sort of known it this entire time, but Sunghoon blatantly admitting he’d been using you hurt nonetheless.

“Yeah. But obviously, you always denied the rumors, so it hasn’t worked as well as I thought it would. It still did a bit though. So I think, if we take it the next step, and actually pretend we’re dating, it should really work. But I need your full cooperation on this, okay?” He looked at you, hopeful eyes and hands in prayer.

You sighed. As he said, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

“Please, Y/N? I really want them off my back.”

“Fine, Park, I’ll do it. But this better be the last thing you make me do.” You couldn’t help but sound cold. This made you rethink these past few weeks’ events. Were you the only one actually enjoying spending time together?

“Thanks, Y/N. And yeah, of course. You won’t have to carry my bag or get my lunch anymore if you want. Maybe it’ll be more believable if I do that for you.”

You had focused your attention back to your homework, wanting this conversation to be over as soon as possible.

“I’ll also pick you up in the morning, so you don’t need to take the bus.”

You hummed in response.

“Um, and I’ll also drop you off after school and after practice…” Sunghoon trailed, troubled by your silence. You hadn’t been so cold since the first couple times you two had talked, and he hated the idea that that might be because of what he had just said. So he took a chance.

“You know, Y/N, this doesn’t change anything. I wouldn’t have made you do all those things if I didn’t like spending time with you. You’re really nice to be around,” he admitted shyly.

You were far too flustered to lift your head and let him see your face. You just grinned and murmured, “Whatever, Park.”

—

Sunghoon kept his promise and picked you up in the morning. He called you at exactly 7:55 a.m., saying he was waiting outside and you rushed out of your house, piece of toast still in your mouth. In the car, you two went over what being in a fake relationship would involve.

“We just need to be seen around together, right?” you proposed, hoping your lack of experience wasn’t showing.

Thankfully, Sunghoon had no idea what being in a relationship, fake or not, entailed either. “Yeah, I think. And maybe…” he hesitated.

“Maybe?” you prodded, hoping he wouldn’t (or actually would, but you’d never admit it) say what you thought he was about to say.

“I don’t know, like, hold hands, and… kiss.” The last part had barely been audible, but you’d still heard it.

“Kiss?” you echoed, voice almost a shriek. “I don’t think we need to go that far, Sunghoon.” A little voice in your head was saying that you’d really like to go that far but you made it shut up.

He was blushing profusely but didn’t want to drop the subject there. “At least on the cheek, or something. We do have to make it believable.”

And there it was. The little sentence, reminding you none of this was real. Seemed like that was a pattern in your life.

You looked out the window. Sunghoon glanced over at you, cursing himself for always saying the wrong thing. He was trying so hard to drown his blooming feelings for you that he kept on hurting you in the process. This whole fake-dating plan was the perfect excuse for him to spend more time with you without having to come to terms with his feelings.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun. Promise.” He nudged your arm playfully, making you look at him. His smile was contagious; you could never help yourself but start grinning when you saw his face light up like that. Maybe he’s right, you thought. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

When you arrived at school, Sunghoon told you to wait for a second. He got out of the car and quickly walked around to your side, opening the door for you. You hated how your heart fluttered at the sweet gesture, reminding yourself it was just for show. The important part was that it fooled everyone else, and it did - as you took Sunghoon’s hand, letting him help you out of the car, and walked with him hand in hand towards the school gates, you could feel all eyes on you. You could hear whispers of see, I told you they were dating! and defeated no ways.

You realized you didn’t care about what anybody might be seeing, which was a first for you. You’d always made sure everybody saw you exactly the way you wanted to see them. As he was the most popular guy in school, dating Park Sunghoon at once helped your reputation and put you on many girls’ bad side. But holding his hand, you felt as though there was some kind of barrier protecting you. You’d never felt so exposed and so safe at the same time.

You noticed Jay standing next to the gates, looking particularly antsy. He’d texted you that morning, saying there was something he wanted to tell you. Usually, you’d have stayed up, overthinking what that could be, but what with today being the day you’d announce yourself to the world (your school) as Park Sunghoon’s (fake) girlfriend, you had had other things to worry about. You gestured at Sunghoon towards Jay. Your friend only saw you when you were calling his name, standing right in front of him.

“Oh, hi, Y/N! I-”

He immediately cut himself off when he saw yours and Sunghoon’s interlaced fingers. Embarrassed, you took your hand out of your fake boyfriend’s, opting for holding onto his pinky instead, not realizing that it was a much cuter action that made one boy’s heart flutter and the other’s fill up with sadness.

“There was something you wanted to tell me?” you asked with a small smile.

“Uh- yeah, but it’s not important, actually. We can talk about it later.”

“Oh, you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He returned your smile, hoping to make the situation less awkward. It was very obvious he didn’t want to say whatever it was he needed to tell you in front of Sunghoon, which you had both understood.

Sunghoon spoke up. “Right, well I’ll see you in class, Jay. Y/N, I’ll walk you to yours.” And with that, he started walking, holding his friend’s gaze for a few steps. You turned back to look at Jay for a split second, trying to decipher what had just happened, but Sunghoon grabbed you by the waist, making you look up at him in surprise, and breaking Jay’s heart even further.

—

Once Sunghoon and you got to your class, you felt as though you were in one of those movies where the boy drops the girl off at her house after their first date. Except that this was in a crowded school hallway two minutes before the first bell rang. What you had in common with that girl from the movie, however, was that you were freaking out over what your boy was going to do next. In the car, you’d ended up agreeing to a kiss on the cheek, but you hadn’t realized it would be happening so soon.

As you two hovered around your classroom’s door, you looked at each other and giggled. Damn, you were selling this well. So well that if you could have ascended out of your body and looked at the scene as a third party, you’d probably have barfed all over yourself.

You were still holding his pinky. You could tell he was too hesitant to do anything now that you had reached the classroom, and so you mustered all of your courage, stood on your tippy toes and softly pressed your lips to his cheeks. (You were pretty sure you’d heard gasps around you.) Your courage went as fast as it came, and as realization hit you, you quickly squeaked “bye, Sunghoon” and practically ran to your seat. The boy stood there for another second or two, hand going to his cheek where you had just kissed him. He walked happily to his own classroom, completely oblivious to the stares he was receiving.

Heeseung, Jiung and Sieun were looking at you in disbelief as you approached them. Sumin, on the other hand, looked like she had paid no attention whatsoever to the scene.

“Y/N,” Sieun teased in a sing-song voice. “Care to explain what just happened?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually managed to make the oh-so-great Park Sunghoon fall for you?” Jiung asked jokingly.

You looked down in an attempt to hide your grin. You usually did that sort of stuff to appear humble when someone complimented you, but this time it was completely genuine. The mere thought of Sunghoon made you all giddy inside. “Um, yeah, he actually asked me to be his girlfriend last night.”

Your three friends gasped dramatically and Sieun pulled you into a hug, as if you’d just received an award of some kind. Heeseung and Jiung patted your shoulders, congratulating you.

“Sumin? Did you know about this?” Sieun enquired, turning to your friend.

“What? Oh, yeah, Y/N called me last night,” she answered, briefly looking at you before turning back to her phone. Sieun looked at you, surprised, not understanding Sumin’s reaction to what seemed like happy news.

You had indeed called Sumin the previous night, and the call had gone similarly to the way she was behaving this morning. Although you usually told her everything, this time, you didn’t want to share the fact that you and Sunghoon were only fake dating. You found yourself actually wanting it to be true - and you thought it’d be easier to believe it yourself if everyone, including your best friend, did too.

“Minie! I’ve got some news,” you’d said as soon as she picked out.

“Ooh! Hit me,” she’d replied with as much excitement in her voice as you.

“So…” you’d started, already giggling. “Sunghoon’s just asked me out. I haven’t told anyone else, I wanted you to be the first to know.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. After a while, you added, “Minie, you still there?”

“Huh? Yeah, um, that’s nice, Y/N, I’m happy for you,” she said, not sounding happy at all. There was no trace of excitement left in her voice.

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied, voice ten times smaller than a minute ago.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I’ve got to go, my parents are calling me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up suddenly, giving you no time to say bye in return. You were completely confused. Was Sumin bothered by you and Sunghoon dating? Other than a reminder about his past behavior, she hadn’t said anything when you two were getting closer. So what was wrong? You’d hoped you’d find out the next day at school, but the way she was acting didn’t help at all.

You snapped out of your flashback when Heeseung nudged you, faking a pout. “Not fair! Why did she get to know before we did?”

You forced a smile and said you’d known you’d see them the next day and thought it was better to tell them in person, and that you had just wanted to rant to someone quickly. Your teacher came in as the bell rang and everyone went to their seat. During class, you tried getting her attention so you could ask her if she was okay but she kept her attention on the teacher the whole time.

After that, as time went by, you kept up your charade of being the perfect student as usual, adding to that of being the perfect girlfriend to Sunghoon. Time with him passed by so quickly: you hadn’t realized you were more than halfway through the semester until you needed to wear a thicker jacket outside and the leaves had started falling, covering school grounds in shades of brown. The plan had worked: he was finally left alone by his admirers. Sumin had stopped being weird after a few days, saying she had had some problems with her parents but hadn’t gone into more detail. Everything was as great as it had ever been: good grades, good friends and a good boyfriend. Well, fake boyfriend, which you needed to remind yourself a bit too often, on the days Sunghoon didn’t do it himself. You felt a pinch in your heart every time he said something like, “there’s my fake girlfriend!” when it was just the two of you, or “great job today, Y/N” after dropping you off.

One day as you arrived home, Yeeun was waiting outside your house, trying to catch you red-handed. She dragged him inside by the arm and you panicked, not wanting him to see how you lived. But your messy room and invasive siblings didn’t scare him off at all; on the contrary, he smiled one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen on him, canines and dimples on display. Your mom made him stay over for dinner and it was probably the happiest dinner you’d ever had. The idea of bringing someone home and having them see your habits and odd family dynamics had terrified you for the longest time, but you felt so comfortable around Sunghoon that it felt as if he was part of your home as soon as he’d stepped foot inside. You didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him.

After dinner, he helped your parents clear up the table and even washed the dishes, even though they kept insisting he didn’t have to do anything. He had completely won them over. They sat at the table and watched you two laugh together in the kitchen. They looked at each other, knowing they were thinking the exact same thing: their daughter hadn’t looked this happy in a while.

When you were done cleaning up, you two headed to your room under the pretense of needing to study.

“Alright, but keep the door open!” your mom had yelled after you, making you groan and Sunghoon’s face turn crimson red.

You really had planned on studying - there was a big test coming up and you couldn’t afford to get a bad grade. When you got your physics textbook out, Sunghoon groaned in protest.

“What? You seriously want to study right now?”

You sighed. “I don’t necessarily want to, no, but I need to. And so do you, may I add.”

“We’re not even in the same physics class!”

“Yeah, but we both have Mr. Cho, so I know you’re gonna have a test as well.”

He rolled his eyes and dramatically flung himself on your bed. “Fine.”

When he didn’t move for a few minutes, you guessed what he had meant was that he’d let you study but wasn’t going to do it himself. But after ten minutes, he suddenly got up. “I’m bored to death, Y/N. The test isn’t in another week. Show me what you do for fun,” he said, on the verge of desperation. It had only been ten minutes, but you felt bad having him over and not entertaining him.

“Well, I do have a Switch…” Sunghoon’s eyes widened in awe. “I guess we can play Mario Kart.”

He almost squealed in joy at that. You just chuckled at him, not knowing he was such a fan of car video games.

“I’m gonna crush you, Kim. Get ready,” he said, already looking victorious.

You smirked, not wanting him to get his hopes up. “Oh, it’s on, Park.”

As expected of a pro player like you (on non-schooldays, you could stay up all night playing this game), you won every single round. Sure, he gave you a run for your money, but you always came on top. He took it surprisingly well, congratulating you each time. After your fourth win in a row, you wiggled your face in front of his with a devilish smile, as you couldn’t help but torment him a little. But he wasn’t smiling. At first, you’d thought he was finally getting mad he kept on losing; but then the proximity between you two hit you. You noticed his eyes flicker momentarily to your lips and had backed off immediately.

“Um, if we go for another round, I’ll go easy on-”

He cut you off by putting his hand on your cheek, making you turn to look at him. You’d daydreamed about this moment before, but you hadn’t imagined your heart beating this fast or the butterflies eating away at your stomach. He was now fully staring at your lips, and you couldn’t look at anything else but his either. Too scared to move an inch, you felt him get closer and closer, so close that his lips were almost on-

“Y/N, mom says it’s late and Sunghoon needs to- AH!”

Sunoo had walked in, eyes riveted on his phone until he looked up and saw you and Sunghoon suspiciously close to each other. Sunghoon practically leaped off of your bed in surprise and you flung a pillow over your face, not believing you had almost kissed Park Sunghoon but that your stupid little brother had ruined everything.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” the culprit squeaked before running away. You and Sunghoon looked at each other. It was awkward for two seconds, then you both erupted in laughter.

“Alright, guess I should get going then. Um, thank you so much for tonight. I haven’t had a family dinner in a while, and… Well, it was really nice,” he admitted shyly after you’d calmed down.

“Of course, Sunghoon. I’m sure my parents would love to have you over any time.”

You walked him to your front door, where you exchanged goodbyes and I’ll see you tomorrows. You watched him take a few steps, then turn back and jog towards you. He stood in front of you for a second, then leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You were too stunned to say it back.

—

After the almost-kiss, it felt as though something had changed between you and Sunghoon. The event had somewhat revealed your feelings: you both knew you wanted to kiss each other. But since those feelings hadn’t been acted upon, the transition from fake-dating to real dating couldn’t happen as smoothly. Well, it could, if you two stopped acting like idiots and told each other how you felt. But the author wanted to get a couple more thousand words in, so it had to wait.

You’d gotten used to Sunghoon’s little requests at school, but you definitely hadn’t anticipated a phone call at past 11pm on a Wednesday night.

“Sunghoon? Why are you calling me so late?” you asked, groggy voice because of sleep. Since you woke up so early to get ready in the morning, you always went to bed around 9:30 to 10 p.m. Sunghoon was making you lose precious minutes of slumber.

“Late? It’s barely midnight, Y/N.” You groaned. “Whatever, put on some clothes and come outside! I’m waiting for you.”

“You’re what?” you whisper-screamed, suddenly feeling very awake.

“I’m waiting for you! Hurry up!”

As always, he hung up without waiting for your reply. You couldn’t really turn him down anyway; although you were somewhat obligated, you had stopped seeing it that way and started doing things for him out of your own volition.

Not wanting to get out of your pajamas, you just threw on a warm sweater, a scarf, some socks, and headed down the hallway on your tiptoes. Your parents weren’t the strictest out there, but you still didn’t wanna get caught sneaking out, and with a boy, at that. After putting on your shoes, you left your house, closing the door behind you as quietly as you could.

The late October night was a bit chilly, but you had wrapped up warm enough. Sunghoon was indeed waiting for you outside, wearing a denim jacket over his gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.

God, he looked good.

“Finally! Took you long enough.”

“Quit it, Sunghoon. Just tell me why you wanted to see me.”

“There’s a place I wanna show you. Come on,” he said, taking you by the hand. You felt tingles in your palm and fingers wherever his hand touched yours. How could something feel so natural yet make your heart race so at the same time?

“Are we walking there?” you asked.

“Yep, it’s not too far. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Those five minutes felt like five seconds walking with Sunghoon. You chatted and joked around the whole way, not letting go of each other’s hand. You hadn’t even noticed you had reached your destination until he stopped walking.

“Here we are,” he said, facing the building, which made you turn in the direction he was looking.

“The ice rink? What are we doing here?” you asked, confused. It was 11:30 pm; surely, the rink would be closed.

“You’ll see!” he said, heading towards the entrance. To your surprise, he pulled out a key from his pockets and opened the doors.

“What? Sunghoon! How do you have a key to the ice rink?”

“I’m chummy with the janitor. I just need to let him know when I’ll be coming and he doesn’t tell anyone,” he replied, an easy smile on his face, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. He led you first to the shoe rack, helping you find skates your size, and then to the benches next to the rink’s entrance. He knelt in front of you and helped you put on your shoes, doing the laces for you.

He looked up at you, a glint in his eyes. “I’ve never taken anyone here, Y/N. I know your secret, so I thought I’d show you mine.”

You didn’t know what to say, surprised at the sudden confession, so you just looked at him curiously as he took ice skates from his backpack and laced them up.

He stood up, turned to you and said, “Ready?”

You followed him to the doors leading to the ice. He stepped inside without a trace of hesitation, but you were much more doubtful about your ability to stand on the ice without falling instantly. He turned around and saw you looking helpless. He took your hand in his, helping you step onto the rink.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. As long as I’ve got you, you won’t fall.”

“Don’t let go of my hand, then,” you said pointedly.

Too focused on not slipping, you didn’t see his smile. “I wasn’t planning to.”

He helped you get your footing, skating backwards in front of you and holding both of your hands. After a few minutes on the ice, you got brave enough to skate on your own, and you miraculously managed to stay on your feet. However, after a while, your bravery turned to hubris, and you dared attempt a spin, resulting in you miserably falling on the ice, butt first. Sunghoon was worried for a second until he saw you laughing uncontrollably. You looked at him, wide-eyed, and said, “This is so much fun, Hoon.” You were so exhilarated that you hadn’t noticed the nickname slipping from your lips but the boy’s cheeks and ears turned redder than the bruise you had surely just earned yourself. Thankfully, if you commented on it, he could just blame it on the cold.

He helped you up, and you skated on as if nothing had happened. This went on for another thirty minutes, you skating hand in hand and occasionally falling together (but most of the time, just you falling on your own). Sunghoon had been so nervous before bringing you here; he was scared you’d think his hobby was unmanly or lame, as he’d been made to feel. But seeing you have the time of your life, all his worries dissipated. This place was like a second home to him, and bringing someone into your home was always nerve-wracking, but he thought you fit perfectly in it.

When you told him you were getting tired and wanted to sit for a while, you skated back together to the benches and he gave you some water from his bag. You sat in silence for a while, waiting for your breathing to come back to a normal pace.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take me here? Not that I’m complaining.”

He hesitated a second before speaking. "I used to come here all the time as a kid.” He didn’t look at you when he answered, keeping his gaze on his hands. “My mom would take me. She left us for another man the summer before middle school started. She left me alone with my asshole father.”

You let out a small gasp, not expecting such a confession. You placed your hand on his back for comfort and said, “I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”

He quickly glanced at you, a half-smile on his face. “Don’t be. Anyways, he had to somewhat start taking care of me now that my mom wasn’t there to do it.” He chuckled darkly. “I guess his idea of taking care of his son was forbidding him from doing the one thing he loved. He thought it was a stupid sport for a boy. He stopped all of my lessons and made me sign up for soccer, even though I hadn’t ever said I wanted to do that. I still came here from time to time, but I didn’t wanna risk getting caught. God knows what he’d have done if he saw me here.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You felt as if no words would be enough to express how his story made you feel. “I- it’s awful, what he did to you. No parent should ever make their child feel as though their passion isn’t worth it. If it’s any comfort, even though you were mostly helping me, I thought you looked ten times better on that rink than scoring any goal. And that’s saying something.”

He finally looked at you and grinned. “Thanks, Y/N.” He seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, and then continued: “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I think that’s why it’s hard for me to open up to people and make lots of friends. I only trust Jake because I’ve known him forever and I can’t really get rid of him now,” he said with a chuckle, “and Jay, well, Jake took to him instantly in middle school so I guess I didn’t have a choice there either, and he’s not so bad anyway. The more people I let in, the more likely I am to get hurt. It’s much easier pretending I don’t wanna have anything to do with anyone than try.

“I guess it’s also why I talked to you on that day. Sure, I ended up thinking you could help me with all those girls. But at first, when I saw someone like you, who looks like they have it all together, who’s actually the opposite in real life - no offense - it reminded me of myself. And I thought, maybe she’d understand. Which is why it was so easy to be myself around you.”

You took his hand in yours and pressed it slightly. “I’m glad you were.” You didn’t feel the need to say anything else, hoping it was enough.

“Now, your turn. What made you the person you are today?” he asked with a grin, trying to approach lightheartedly this heavy subject, which you appreciated.

“It’s all about making people think you’re someone else, isn’t it? Because, depending on who you are, they’ll treat you differently. I found that out as a kid, because I, too, have a tragic childhood backstory.” He gasped jokingly.

“It’s not as bad as yours, so sorry about that. Back in primary school, I already had this… attitude that I have today. I had quite the ego, and I didn’t want anyone doing better than me at school. I didn’t care about how I looked, if I was the prettiest girl in class or had the cutest shoes. I was the smarty-pants of the class, basically, and a lot of the kids teased me for that. But I also didn’t let myself get trampled over, and fought back, quite aggressively at that, so I was somehow the nerd and the troublemaker at the same time. I didn’t have the best reputation, but I did have a friend. Jay. Or Jongseong, at the time, before he got too cool for his real name,” you joked. “The thing is, I didn’t see him as a friend. Sure, I was only eight or nine, but I really liked him. And the day I was planning on confessing, I saw him hold hands with the prettiest girl in our class. So I never told him, and then he left for the US a few months later.

“During the time he was gone, I had a complete makeover and actually started caring about my appearance, especially when middle school started. So now I had academic validation from teachers, which I had craved since forever, and both female and male validation from all the girls telling me how pretty I was and all the guys liking me. The people who were in my primary school and went to the same middle school told them how I used to be, but nobody believed them, and if they did, they didn’t care, so everybody just gradually forgot about it. And I just got addicted to the validation, which is why I always studied harder and tried to be prettier, even when it turned into a complete lie. I thought that if I could make everyone believe I was perfect, then it didn’t matter what I was like in real life, so at home, I just let myself completely go. And even now that I’m aware of all of this, I still can’t stop.”

Sunghoon looked at you like you had just slapped him. “So, you used to have a crush on Jay?”

You looked at him in exasperation. “Seriously, Hoon? That’s what you get from everything I just told you?”

He smiled shyly. “Sorry. Thank you for telling me.” You sat there in comfortable silence for another few minutes, still hand in hand. Then, Sunghoon got up, grin on his face.

“Wanna see something cool?” You nodded at him, returning his grin. He headed back inside the rink.

You thought he was gonna show off by doing some fancy trick. But he started gliding on the ice, and you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He took long strides that looked as natural to him as walking. He spinned one, two, three times, and continued skating as though it was nothing. You were completely mesmerized. You already thought he was out-of-this-world beautiful, but his beauty was brought to another level when he skated. His elegant moves rendered you breathless. When he skated back towards you, you were looking at him with only awe and admiration in your eyes.

After what he’d told you and what he’d just shown you, you couldn't help but get a little emotional. You engulfed him in a hug as soon as he’d stepped out of the rink, your arms around his neck and his naturally coming to your waist. Your hands came up to his cheeks as you leaned back to properly look at him.

“That was- wow. That was amazing, Sunghoon. Thank you for showing me.” You could see the gratefulness in his eyes. There was something else there, and whatever it was, you knew you were looking back at him with as much of it. It was only you two in the building, but it might as well have been the two of you in the whole world.

All too similarly as in your room, his gaze went from your eyes to your lips, and you couldn’t help but mirror that. This was the perfect moment. You inched your face closer, letting him close the gap between you. Your lips touched and it was as if everything fell into place. The kiss was shy at first, neither of you sure what to do, your mouths moving at a slow but steady pace. But as your hands traveled from his cheeks, to his jaw and down to his neck, and you felt him sigh in the kiss, something unclicked in you, making you want more. You deepened the kiss, and he returned it with just as much force. Your right hand came to grab at the nape of his hair and his hands gripped your waist tighter. After minutes or hours, you broke the kiss in need of some air. Your eyes met again and you smiled at him, relieved it had finally happened.

You thought he’d have a similar reaction, but he suddenly looked panicked. Realization hit him like a truck. He liked you. Far too much. And even if the kiss and these past weeks told him you might like him back, it scared him. He’d unlocked his heart for you but couldn’t let you keep the key. Otherwise, he’d let you open it more and more and more until there he was completely bare in front of you, and you decided you didn’t like what you’d found and left him. Just like his mom did. Just like everyone eventually does. Just like his dad never even tried.

He took a step back. His panic was rubbing off on you. You called out his name, but he quickly got his bag and said, “Sorry, Y/N, I have to go. I’ll um- I’ll see you.” He took a few steps, turned around, and said, “I think you should take the bus tomorrow morning. Sorry.”

He started walking away. A few steps before he’d be out of your view, he turned back around. He hated the look on your face, how sad, confused and helpless it was all at once. Above all, he hated that he was the reason behind it. But he told himself it was better to leave you now than be left in a few months when you got bored of him, and started walking again without another word.

—

You walked home alone. It was a dark November night, and you were shivering from the cold and from sadness. Try as hard as you might, you couldn’t figure out why Sunghoon had reacted like that. The past month had gone so well, you were only getting closer and more comfortable with each other. The only logical conclusion you could come to was that kissing you had made him realize he didn’t like you. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far from the ice rink and you got home in five minutes. Lost in your thoughts, you couldn’t even be bothered to be quiet closing the front door and walking to your room, and you woke Sunoo up.

At first, he looked like he was about to scold you for making so much noise; but upon seeing your disheveled state, he started worrying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, why are you only coming home now? Where were you?”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You fell in your brother’s arms and started crying your heart out.

He held you for a little while, but not wanting to wake the others up by staying in the hallway, he said, “Come on, let’s get you in your room. You’re freezing.”

He left for a few minutes and came back with two cups of tea in his hands. He joined you on your bed. You had calmed down a bit and took a sip of the tea, already feeling warmer.

“So, tell me everything.”

And you did. Not just about what had happened at the ice rink, but everything before that: how yours and Sunghoon’s relationship was fake, which you hadn’t even told your siblings, but that it hadn’t kept you from falling for him, and how you really thought he felt the same way. When you got to the part where you told each other about your stories, Sunoo grabbed your arm in surprise, and said, “I can’t believe you told someone about that. Good for you, big sis.”

You sat in silence after a few minutes when you’d finished telling him everything, you, still reflecting on your evening, and him, trying to think of something good to say. He took a deep breath, and started: “You know, this might be completely useless, but I feel like there’s no point trying to figure out why he did that. We’re not mind readers, and assuming things will just go wrong. I think the best thing to do is just ask him tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready to face him, really.”

You looked at your brother fondly. “How can you be so stupid sometimes, yet so wise right now?”

Sunoo and you talked for another minute, but when you yawned for a good seven straight seconds, you both agreed it was time for bed. Before you fell asleep, you told yourself that tomorrow morning, you’d find Sunghoon and make him be clear with you. You at least deserved that.

—

Heeseung and Sumin were clearly surprised to see you the next morning in the bus, but you told them you didn’t want to talk about it and they didn’t push, although it very obviously had something to do with Sunghoon. As you rode the bus and psyched yourself for your conversation with him, you had no idea he was currently in the midst of a heated argument with Jay. The latter pushed him with force, making Sunghoon’s back hit the classroom wall behind him.

“What the fuck did you just say about Y/N?” Jay asked, venom in his voice and fury in his eyes.

Despite the pain, Sunghoon smirked, wanting to rile up his friend even more. “I said, Y/N’s just as stupid as all the other girls. She probably thinks she’s so much better than everybody, but in the end it was so easy making her fall for me. It was almost boring, really, how easy she was.”

Jay pushed him again. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“Aw, little Jay is getting upset over his little Y/N? You sad that the girl you like actually likes an asshole like me?”

Jay hadn’t had many reasons to get angry in his life. This was making him discover another side of himself; he didn’t know he could get this angry. He didn’t know rage could fill up his veins like that and make him want to destroy absolutely everything around him, but above all, the person in front of him who’d he considered a friend all these years. On the verge of losing control, he reared up his fist, before Sunghoon said:

“You know what’s even sadder? She used to like you, too.”

His arm dropped. “What?”

“Yeah, in primary school. Didn’t you think it was weird how different she was before and after you left? Her little heartbreak made her change everything about herself just so that people would like her. And now all she can do is lie to everyone. I pity her, really. And to think that she thought I liked her. What an idiot.”

That was the last straw. Jay punched Sunghoon square in the nose, making him stumble back a few steps until he hit the wall again. He held onto his bloody, and possibly broken, nose and looked Jay straight in the eyes, still smirking. Thinking his job was done (but not sure what the job was in the first place), he walked away, heading to the nurses’ station. The scene had gathered quite an audience outside. It was less than ten minutes to the first bell, so already quite a few students were there, but no one had dared to venture inside. Jake, arriving too late to prevent any damage, looked wide-eyed back and forth between Sunghoon walking out and Jay standing inside, fists clenched by his side and panting from anger.

Sunghoon barely spared him or anyone a glance as he left the room. What he did notice though, were a crumpled tuna-mayo sandwich and a banana milk on the floor, looking as though someone had dropped them.

What had he done?

—

You had already run back to your friends and were currently crying for the second time in twelve hours in Sumin’s arms. It was the first time ever you cried at school, and probably also in front of your friends, spare Sumin, so it was a curious sight to most; she took you to another room for privacy.

There, you practically told her everything you had told Sunoo the night before, including the fake dating.

“Wait… so, you and Sunghoon weren’t actually dating?”

You nodded, embarrassed by your lie.

“I- Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? How could you fool everyone like that?”

You looked up in surprise at your friend’s harsh words. You probably deserved them, but you weren’t used to hearing her speak in such a way, nor to the cold stare she was peering down at you with.

“I don’t know… I’m really sorry…” you mumbled, ashamed.

She scoffed. “You should be. I just- I just don’t understand how you can already be living such a lie, and still add onto it. It makes me wonder how I’m still friends with you.” The bell rang right at that moment, and she got up, saying, “Let’s go to class. You wouldn’t wanna be late.”

You followed her, but you felt sick to your stomach. Usually, you could always hide your discomfort or sadness, no matter how bad your period cramps were or how serious an argument with your parents had gotten. But this time, it was too much, and fifteen minutes into the class, you asked the teacher to go to the nurse. Not used to you needing to leave class and trusting that it was for a legitimate reason, your teacher let you off and you quickly packed your bag and left.

When you got to the nurse, you sat down in front of her and said you weren’t feeling well and wanted to go home. For the same reasons as your teacher, she said she’d let you but needed to ask you a few questions before about your general well-being. You answered them quickly, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible and just go home.

When you finally were able to leave, you only took a few steps out of the nurse’s office before someone grabbed your wrist, making you turn around. Sunghoon, who was resting in the room next door, had heard your voice and gotten up as soon as he’d heard you leave. His nose was covered in bandages and his eye had started swelling and turning blue, and you mentally thanked Jay. You ripped your arm out of his grip and continued to walk away without a word. You were too tired to argue.

“Y/N, please, hear me out.”

This made you stop in your tracks, but you didn’t turn around. “Hear you out? I’ve already heard enough, Sunghoon. No need to explain, you made it very clear what you think of me.”

You started walking again but he doubled you and blocked your path in the narrow hallway.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, if you’d just give me a minute-”

“I don’t care that you’re sorry, Sunghoon! Sorry doesn’t cut it. I trusted you. Actually trusted you. You out of all people should know how hard it is to do that. Or was that a lie too?” Seeing him in front of you, your sadness retreated to the back of your heart and you were left with only anger.

“It wasn’t, I prom-”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” You pushed past him and walked on. And this time, he let you go, even though the only thing you wanted him to do was make you stay. You so desperately wanted to hear him out and forgive him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. You had too much dignity, and it would only end up hurting you even further.

So you didn’t shed a tear the whole way home. When you finally got to your bed, you didn’t have the energy to start crying. You fell asleep, tears quietly rolling down your face.

—

You slept the whole day, waking up to a soft knock on your bedroom door. It was your mom, telling you Jay was here to see you. Everyone had been surprised to see you already at home when they came back from work or school, but they knew better than to wake you up.

“I’m surprised, you know. He’s gotten so handsome.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Just tell him that I’m not feeling well and he should go home, please.”

“Oh, I’ve already tried to, honey. The boy is adamant on seeing you.”

You sighed. “Fine. Can you bring him here, then?”

A few seconds later, you heard another knock, and Jay opened the door just enough to peek his head through, asking if he could come in.

“Well, you’re already here, so might as well.”

You sat up and gestured for him to sit down on your bed.

He looked around, taking in the messiness of his surroundings. “You know, I thought your room would be much more… organized.”

“Didn’t Sunghoon tell you? I’m a big, fat liar who hides the truth from everyone,” you said sarcastically.

“About that… did you hear everything he said?” You hummed in response. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Y/N. I don’t know what happened to him. He’d never said anything like that about you, and then, all of a sudden… What an asshole. I can’t believe he was my friend.”

“Was? You shouldn’t end your friendship over me, Jay.”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t be friends with a guy who talks about anyone like that, let alone you.” After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “Did um- did anything happen, for him to say those things?”

You sighed deeply. “I’ve already told this story twice in the past few days, so I’ll give you the short version, but basically, we were fake dating, and I started really liking him, and I thought he did too, until we kissed, and he left me completely stranded, and then the next day I hear him say all those things.”

Silence again. You suddenly remembered something Sunghoon had said that you had completely put to the side: Jay likes you. At least, according to Sunghoon. You didn’t know if it was true, but judging by his disappointed face, it looked like it. Seemed like all of your friendships were going to hell.

“Oh,” he simply said.

“Yeah…” you murmured back.

“Well,” he turned to you, “that just confirms to me that he’s an asshole. Cause no guy in his right mind would turn you down, Y/N. I know I wouldn’t.”

He looked straight at you as he said that. Yep. Jay liked you. It was a nice feeling, but it was also about ten years too late.

“Do you- do you know what I’m trying to say, Y/N?” he asked, gulping.

You hesitated for a second before saying, ”I think I do, Jay. I have to say, your timing isn’t great.”

He chuckled a bit lifelessly. “Yeah, I guess right now isn’t the best time to say this.”

“I also meant, you know what Sunghoon said, earlier? That I liked you before you left for the US? That was true.”

He looked at you, mouth agape. “Oh, was it…” His head hung down in defeat. “I can’t believe I’ve been such an idiot. I feel like it’s my fault that Sunghoon hurt you like this. If only I’d been just a bit earlier…”

“None of this is your fault, Jay. Please don’t think that. It’s mine for thinking Sunghoon could actually like me back.”

Jay took a deep breath. “God, as much as it hurts me to say, Y/N, I think he did. Or does, actually.” You furrowed your brows at him. “Sunghoon, he has this thing where he goes into retreat mode as soon as he gets too close, too personal. It’s a stupid defense mechanism, and when he realizes he’s let you in a bit too far, he snaps everything closed and hurts you before you can hurt him. At least, that’s how he sees it, I guess. He’s done it to Jake and me a couple times, and it takes some getting used to, but he stops after a while. When he knows for sure that you won’t hurt him.”

You didn’t know what to do with this information, so you just stayed quiet, which Jay took as a sign to go on.

“I’m not saying forgive him. Believe me, if I could smack him into space and never let him see you again, I would. But I think maybe, just maybe, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, hear him out.”

You smiled at him. “You’re a good friend, Jay. And I don’t mean just to me but to Sunghoon as well. I hope you know that.”

Jay tried to ignore the pinch in his heart at the word ‘friend’ and smiled back.

“Oh, there’s another thing I needed to show you.” His tone was suddenly much more apprehensive, and he looked both sorry and scared to say whatever he was about to say.

He pulled out his phone and searched the thing in question. Before showing you anything, he warned, “Nobody knows who did this. It was sent out to the whole school on a library computer-”

Expecting the worst, you snatched Jay’s phone from his hands. And there they were. Pictures of you from your primary school years, recent pictures of you in your comfortable clothes, at home or in close proximity to your house. Sent out to the whole school, as Jay had said. You were horror-struck. You could feel all the years you had spent perfecting your image and maintaining it crumbling around you as though they were paper. Charismatic smiles and trendy accessories had been your brick and mortar, but a sledgehammer had hit them, destroying your foundations further with each swing.

And that sledgehammer had a name: Bae Sumin. You’d figured it out in an instant. You’d been friends your whole life, she was the only one apart from your family to know about your true face; only she would have access to such photos. You knew it wasn’t Sunghoon because the pictures he had taken that day weren’t there.

If what had happened with Sunghoon had made a crack in your heart, then this had shattered it into a million pieces. The person who you’d trusted the most, who you’d thought would never do anything to hurt you, had done the worst thing anybody could do to you.

“Y/N- are you okay?” Jay asked tentatively. You had forgotten he was there.

“Um, yeah, yeah- I think I just need to be alone for now, if that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying a while.”

“Sorry, Jay, but I’m sure.”

He looked at you for a few seconds. He’d never felt more distance between you two, not even when you had been oceans apart. “Alright. Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

You smiled a tiny, tiny smile in response and he left your room. On his way out, your mom hugged him, saying it was nice to see him again and that he was welcome anytime, and he thanked her.

As he walked home, he couldn’t help but bitterly laugh to himself. Even when he confessed, he hadn’t been able to say the words he’d wanted to tell you this whole time: I love you.

—

You didn’t go to school for the rest of the week, the only stain on your perfect attendance record. All of your friends had tried to reach you, asking if you were okay, and you replied in a few small messages, telling them you’d be back when you could. Other people had contacted you, asking if those pictures were real. You obsessed over your school’s gossip Instagram account: the past few days, all the posts had been dedicated to your pictures and Sunghoon’s and Jay’s fight. You had ten missed calls from Sunghoon and seventeen from Sumin. You ignored each and everyone of them, only giving Jay, Heeseung, Sieun and Jiung the time of day.

On Sunday morning you woke up, already dreading going to school the next day. You could already picture the nasty stares and whispers you’d get in the hallways. You thought about facing Sumin and Sunghoon again, and you thought the worst thing possible would be to have to do it at school. So you decided to wait until they called you again, as you knew they would, and finally picked up their call.

Sumin contacted you first, at eleven in the morning. You agreed to have her come over to your house to talk. When she appeared at your front door, you realized you weren’t sad, angry, or disappointed; you were just confused. You didn’t understand why she’d done it. Looking at her face, you couldn’t imagine her sitting down at that computer and sending out those pictures, writing the comment This is what Kim Y/N is like in real life.

You let her in and walked to your room, your siblings’ eyes burning holes into her soul the whole time. You sat down on your bed, sighed, and said, “Go ahead.”

“Thank you for letting me come here and explain myself. I don’t know what took over me, Y/N. Well actually, I guess I do. Jealousy, as stupid as it sounds.” She chuckled at herself. “I’ve always tried to hide it, but I’ve always been a bit jealous of you, Y/N. You’re the prettiest girl, the smartest, the nicest, and I’m just the best friend. That’s all anyone knows me as. Everybody loves you, yet I know it’s all a facade. And I’m not saying that to be mean, because I know you’re an amazing person even without all the glamor. And when I saw you with Sunghoon, I mean, you saw how I was. I didn't fight with my parents. I was so, so jealous. You hadn’t shown interest in any guy since Choi Soobin and all of a sudden you were dating Park freaking Sunghoon, and he knew about your quote-on-quote ‘real’ face, so I couldn’t even comfort myself that he didn’t know who you really were.”

“Wait- why would you be jealous of Sunghoon and me?”

She took a deep breath. “You remember, freshman year, when I confessed to him and he turned me down?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was in the past.”

“Do you also remember that guy I told you about later on, who I’d gotten really close with but completely shut me off when I thought we were about to start dating?”

Something clicked, but you didn’t want to face it. “Yeah…”

“Well, surprise surprise, they were the same person. Ha. I got mad at you for lying to me, but I did the same thing.”

“Sumin… Why did you never tell me?”

“I’m not sure. When we were in that talking stage, I could’ve bragged about it to anyone, you know, that Park Sunghoon was actually being nice to me, but I didn’t. I wanted to keep him my little secret. And then I confessed, and we all know how that ended.” A beat passes as she takes a deep breath, shaking the bad memory away. “I am over it, it was more than three years ago. Maybe there was a nice part of me that thought he had changed, because you seemed happy with him, and I didn’t want to ruin that. But maybe there was another part that hoped he might hurt you like he did me. And that’s such a shitty thing to do, I know. I should’ve told you when I saw you get involved with him. I can’t believe after all these years, he did the exact same thing to you that he did to me. What an asshole.”

You were staring at the wall in front of you, feeling empty. Why did everything have to happen at the same time? You were just drained of any willpower.

“This doesn’t explain the pictures,” you said plainly.

“Right. When you told me you were fake dating, I guess something snapped in me. I couldn’t believe it was another lie, I thought we had gone past the stage where you hid things from me. So that, plus jealousy, I just went a bit crazy, I think. I really wasn’t thinking, Y/N, and I promise you with all my heart that if I could go back and undo everything, I would. I’m so, so, so sorry. I regretted it as soon as I hit post.”

You looked at your friend and knew she was telling the truth. You believed her, and yet you couldn’t quite look past it.

“I know you are, Minie. It’s just… what am I gonna do now at school? Everybody must hate me.”

“I won’t lie, some people haven’t been saying the nicest things, especially Park’s fangirls. But God, Y/N, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but who cares? They’ll talk about it for a week, two at most. Your life at school won’t be the same, but you’ll still have all of us. I’ve talked to Heeseung, Sieun and Jiung, and they’re not the tiniest bit mad at you. They’re just worried to death. A bit confused too, but mostly worried. And you know what? Even Yujin, Wonyoung and Gaeul, who I’ve literally never talked to before, came to ask me how you were. Jay and Sunghoon are barely on talking terms but they always team up when it comes to practically verbally assaulting anyone they overhear talking behind your back. Jake has to hold them back sometimes but he always glares at those people too. You don’t wanna see Jake Sim glare, I promise you. It’s so scary,” she says in a confessional tone, visibly shuddering just at the thought of angel-faced Jake looking angry, and you can’t help the small chuckle that escapes your lips.

Her face softens as she places a warm palm over your hand. “We all love you and care for you so much, so screw literally every single other person in that school. They don’t matter.”

There was something refreshing about Sumin’s words. The idea that you could live your life without worrying about other people had always been in the back of your head, but you always told yourself you were in too deep to go back. Now that you had been forced to, you understood why you felt so empty: the immense weight of having to keep up a persona, had been lifted off your shoulders. You would only have to carry yourself, and not a second person, which made you feel weightless. You’d just have to get used to it and come to enjoy that feeling.

You took your friend’s hands in yours. “I want to forgive you, I promise I do. And I will. I just don’t know if I can do that right away. I’ll need some getting used to this new life.”

“I completely understand, Y/N.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around anymore. And you know what, I’m sure one day I’ll look back at this moment and thank you.”

—

Sumin left a few hours later and you were now waiting for Sunghoon to call you. You waited and waited, until your phone rang with a small ding: he wasn’t calling you, but had sent you a message. A very, very long message. You were very tempted to reply with a I ain’t reading all that. I’m happy for u tho. Or sorry that happened, but you thought it might not be the appropriate moment.

You opened the message, which had come after thirty unread texts, and started reading, slightly appalled by the lack of paragraphing.

Dear Y/N,

Is this how you start a long text? I would much rather be telling you this than writing it, but someone hasn’t been picking up my calls. Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be giving you much attitude right now. Where do I even start? The ice rink, I guess. Asshole move #1, obviously. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you like that. That kiss was really really good and I really really liked it. Because I really really like you. And I think I’ve known that for a while now, but the kiss confirmed it. And I was happy for a second, but then I panicked. There’s no other word for it, I panicked. I’ve never liked someone this much before and I was so scared. I still am. I’m terrified shitless. But I know that my fear is completely irrational, and that you’re literally the best person on Earth, which is why I’m writing this. I know it’s cliché to say my mom left me and now I think everybody will. And my first reaction to that is to hurt someone before they can hurt me, which is what I did. But as much as I wanna fight it, it’s always there at the back of my mind. You can even ask Sumin about it. Should I be saying that? I feel like I might as well. I was an asshole to her, and I’m so angry at myself that I did it again with you. I didn’t mean a single word of what I said about you to Jay. Not a single one. You’re not stupid, you’re the smartest and most amazing girl I know, and I never pretended I liked you, because I never had to. I think I just wanted Jay to punch me, really. I wanted him to run to you and make sure you were okay, because I was too scared to do that myself. But I regret doing that so much. I hope you know that. And bless Jay, he’s a real one. He told me to get my shit together and talk to you. I can tell he’s still mad at me but still wants to make things good between us. I was already trying to call you before he said that, but I probably would’ve said something stupid that would’ve made things worse. And I can’t afford that, Y/N, I really, really can’t. You get me like no one does and being with you is the most liberating thing ever, I’m never myself more than when I’m around you. You just bring out the best in me. Well, except for that thing I did. Which I promise I’ll never do again. I am so extremely sorry, and if you wanna hate me for the rest of your life, I completely get it. But I would also be very happy if you didn’t. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow at school. I really miss you.

Your Hoon

You wiped away the tears that had formed in your eyes and typed back:

You’re such an idiot, Park.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

—

The next day, as you imagined, was mostly hell. You’d decided not to dress up as usual: there was no point trying to look good after this, it would only make you seem more ridiculous. You put less makeup on, not bothering to hide your eye bags, and didn’t bling your outfit up with accessories or fancy shoes, opting for your worn-out Converse you’d had since your feet stopped growing. On the bus, where people usually ignored each other, you could already feel the gossip being told about you. You avoided people’s gaze like the plague and sat down next to Sumin. You laid your head on her shoulder and sighed.

“I already wanna go home.”

She laughed, “I know. We’ll be with you the whole day, so don’t worry.”

You spent the bus ride catching up on what had happened when you were gone (nothing much), and although there was some awkwardness there, it was nice being with your best friend. When Heeseung got on, he practically screamed your name and suffocated you by means of greeting.

“I’m so glad you’re back. You know, I think you look really cute in those pictures. All these people are just jealous they don’t look as good as you even when you don’t dress up.”

Sumin shot daggers with her eyes at him and he cringed, saying, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

You reassured him, saying that it was fine since it was all you were going to be hearing the next few days. “Might as well get used to it.”

It was somewhat easy to ignore the stares coming your way when you walked into school with Heeseung and Sumin flanked at your sides like bodyguards. When you reached your classroom, Jiung engulfed you in a hug and Sieun was almost crying. How the hell had you gotten such sweet friends?

In the hallways, some people tried to get reactions out of you by calling you out, yelling liar! or you can’t fool us anymore. You couldn’t ignore them as they were very much in your face. When at lunch, a table of girls next to you was very clearly talking about you in the nastiest way possible, you took your tray and were ready to get up and leave, but a very familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You think it’s funny talking about someone like that?” Sunghoon was practically screaming at the girls. “You think you’re any better than her? I bet you do the exact same thing but are just glad someone else got called out for it.” You weren’t sure if that made you feel much better, but you appreciated the effort.

“As a matter of fact,” he continued as he pulled out a chair and got up on it, his voice getting louder, “I’ve got something I wanna say to everyone.”

Somebody whooped (probably Jake) and you tried to get Sunghoon to come down from the chair, but he just smiled his radiant smile at you and turned to look at the students in the cafeteria.

“All of you who judge Y/N are hypocrites. You wanna tell me you’re all as perfect at home as you are at school? That you never relax a little bit? Sure, she pushed it a bit far- (hey! you grunted in protest), but nobody shows who they truly are to everyone. We all judge each other in this stupid high school, so Y/N did what she had to do and protected herself. If anything, this should make you respect her even more. And it’s not like she did anything wrong to you. She didn’t use her popularity against anyone, so you better not use this against her.”

From the crowded tables in the cafeteria, somebody yelled “Nobody cares!”

Somebody, whose voice you thought you recognized as Jungwon’s, joined in: “Yeah, what is it about you seniors and thinking the whole school revolves around you? We still like Y/N!”

Sunghoon, taken aback, simply said, “Oh. Alright. Well, you better keep it that way then!” and got off his chair.

He turned to you, already a pleading look on his face and said “Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

But you cut him off right away. “I know, Sunghoon, I know. I think this proved it.”

“I really wanna make it up to you. So just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Buy you a house, move to another country, you name it. I’ll do it.”

You chuckled at him. “You don’t need to go that far.” You looked down, then back at him. “I think I just want to pretend like nothing happened. Like it was all a huge, awful fever dream. Even if I can’t forgive and forget right away, I don’t think I want you out of my life while I figure it out.”

He let out the biggest sigh you’d ever heard. “My God, you don’t know how happy to hear that, Y/N. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for defending me just now. That was… definitely something.”

He smiled down at you. "I did my best. Too bad those sophomores ruined everything.”

You could feel eyes burning into your sides, so you turned your head a bit and noticed that your friends and the table of girls that had just been gossiping were staring at you, some of them teary-eyed. When they saw you notice them, they all turned back to each other and pretended that they were having some other conversation. You and Sunghoon chuckled, and you realized how much you had missed him.

Yes, Sunghoon and Sumin had hurt you, but you were a strong believer of second chances. Even if it was hard at first to stop thinking about Sunghoon’s voice when he had said those things or Sumin’s intentions when she posted the pictures, they’d made it up to you in any way they could and you’d reciprocated that by being completely honest. No more trying to look perfect all the time; you were human and were allowed to have low moments. Your grades even dropped by two points, because you’d started spending more time with your friends than with your textbooks. You’d spent whole Saturdays at the ice rink with your now real-boyfriend Sunghoon, and had invited the whole crew. Heeseung was surprisingly good at it. You had even caught your little sister Yeeun on a date with the cute Japanese boy she’d talked about.

As promised, Jay came once a week or every two weeks to have dinner with your family; Sunghoon always insisted on being present. The tension between them had turned into friendly competition, and you could tell the two friends were glad to have each other back.

You’d never felt so free. Your relationship with Sunghoon felt like uncharted territory and home at the same time; so daunting and exciting yet so comfortable and relaxing. You kept the PDA at a minimum at school, but when it was just the two of you, your whole body never failed to heat up, even in the cold of the ice rink. He had been nicknamed the ice prince, but he was so, so warm.

In the end, everybody found out. But you had Park Sunghoon by your side, so it was alright.

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios

2K notes · View notes