#<- though less 'rants' and more 'rambles'

[cacklefrendly]

yknow now that i've actually drawn Vermouth i remember that her behavior concerns me SO much. like. Gurl Do You Need Help Slash Gen.

yeah the movies aren't canon but it seems like personalities are, so the fact that in m26 the grand act it takes for Vermouth to fly all over the world to take the heat off of Haibara "PREVIOUS ENEMY WHO SHE KINDA STILL WANTS TO KILL VERY MUCH" Ai is─

─ a small, random act of kindness with no ulterior motive???????

on one hand that tracks with the Ran = Angel thing but also W O W OKAY. ALRIGHT. that's DEFINITELY a person who has a healthy relationship with the concept of kindness. actually now that im talking about the 'Angel' thing Vermouth has put Ran on S U C H a pedestal holy shit. she's Angel, she can do no wrong, she should be protected from the horrors of the world. ignoring the fact that Ran sees brutal murders all the time. ignoring that she ripped open a metal door. she should be legally classified as a deadly weapon bUT NOOOO SHE'S AN ANGEL THESE BLOOD-STAINED STAGES ARE NO PLACE FOR HER

ok yeah she saved Vermouth's life. that is not enough of an explanation for this. this isn't repaying a debt. this is one hell of an unhealthy attachment. it's also, like, immature?? i don't mean 'childish' i mean it's very black-and-white with her. it's not just "Ran is Angel so she's really kind," it's "Ran is Angel so she's perfect," with no regard for the natural complexity of People. like Vermouth doesn't really understand how someone can be kind without it being the core of their being??

to briefly play Armchair Psychologist im like 300% percent certain that she's either the Boss's child or wife and he is Not a healthy figure in her life. goddamn

[shimmer-wolf-arts]

I can blame/thank Pansy for why I'm gonna ramble a bit, LOL 🤣 /pos

like, we don't see Varian making a ton of friends his age. Like, all the people he hangs out with are either older or younger than him, and it's mostly adults. Poor kid is only 14-16 and he's friends with ppl who are mostly over 18. The only ones who aren't are Keira and Catalina, and they're, what, like 12 at the oldest, in season 3? Maybe?

I mean, don't get me started on Varian's neurodivergence/obvious ADHD. But that's probably one major reason why his friends are mostly older than him. I know my AuDHD is why I connect more with people older or younger than me.

And yeah. Varian literally befriended the raccoon that was intruding on his lab. And crushed on Cass like, 2 seconds after she saved him and 100% failed at flirting with her.

But you see how socially awkward this kid is when he's talking to other people, especially in season 3. Talking to Feldspar? Awkward as hell. He's stuttering, not making eye contact, and let's not forget the nervous laughs he makes. And if he's trying to argue a point, and someone very much calls him out on it (coughLANCEcough), he gets stuttery and trips over his words then too.

This poor kid just does not know how to socialize. And when he gets overwhelmed, he starts shutting down. "Be Very Afraid" was a perfect example of that, outside of the fact that his shutdown was also trauma induced.

So yeah, sending him out on the 7k journey, I can imagine he's in way over his head. And I imagine Hugo takes full advantage of that, a lot of the time.

But in my story, Grace is also very much isolated when it comes to kids her age. It's kind of why she and Varian bond is because they 1. Both have trauma, and 2. Both struggle to make friends their age. The only other person Grace knows that's her age is the person she considers her cousin bc their dads grew up together and consider each other brothers. So she's kinda lucky that she at least had one person her age to hang around. Varian didn't. So he meets Grace when they're both 17, and he's just thinking "Oh shit this is a pretty girl who is actually my age wtf do i do?!"

Poor kid does stumble over his words (and just in general) with her a lot until he becomes more comfortable around her. And especially after they start dating, he gets a bit more confident since they both help each other out with trauma and whatnot. He's still socially awkward with ppl his age, and just in general, but it's not nearly as bad as it was when he was 14-16.

And Hugo, being street smart, as well as putting on the facade that he knows everything (and that making him look like an asshole lol), it very much throws Varian for a loop, lol. He doesn't know what to do with it at first, and he's very thrown off and unsure of how to handle it.

[atinyladybug-daydreams]

Advice from experience: Be VERY careful on spending money on games, especially if what you're spending money on is like, limited events and shit.

Once you're in, you're IN and it's very, very hard to get out of mostly because of guilt and not wanting to put down stuff you've spent hours grinding for.

[no1ryomafan]

New getter brain worms have been so bad and I haven’t even finished a rewatch with my friend or the damn au fic I’m working on but I’m still baffled people said “It LoOkS bAd” and so tempted to do compilation of some of its best chronographic animation even if I’ll be stirring a pot- which I don’t want but man I’m so sick of the art style slander when it has one of the most unique styles I’ve seen in a show. Just because it’s stiff most of the time or can’t be in a higher resolution doesn’t mean it can’t look good or have some great animation every so often because it sure as hell does and I’m sick of pretending it doesn’t!

[kitteyteeth]

if I was a more dedicated person shadowsight and bristlefrost would be the most important characters to me. I don't have the patience to deal with them. they're too frustrating for me.

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[lullxby]

THEODORE NOTT LISTENING TO RAVENCLAW READER WARM UP TO HIM AND LETTING HER RANT ABOUT HER BOOK TO HIM PLEASE IM BEGGING🙏🙏

—🏍️ (if thats taken? idk lmao)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHIPPED (t.n.)

summary : in which a boy is willing to do anything to convince a smart girl to go out with him.

w.c. : .8k

a/n : i loved writing this request and no 🏍️ isnt taken!! enjoy! 🤍

should i do a part 2 of the actual date??

wattpad : poeticmystery

warning(s) : none!

| harry potter masterlist | navigation |

theodore nott couldn’t deny how ultimately whipped he was for you. he was in love with everything about you. the way you’d ramble about your books, the certain face you’d make to him after you see somebody doing something less than smart.

he even respected how log. it had taken for you to let him in. he had quite a reputation with women, and he knew it’d make it more difficult to convince you to be in a real relationship with him.

so, he waited. he was patient, he was kind, and he defended you.

he seemed like the perfect guy on paper, but whenever you got close to letting him in, letting him finally take you out, you’d hear another story about a girl he hooked up with then left right after.

the thought disgusted you, and you didn’t want to just turn out to be another one of those girls with a horror story of hoe you were treated by the slytherin boy. you were smarter than that.

that was another thing he liked about you. how smart you were. he loved how you could explain extensive theories and spells to him in a simple enough way to make it easy to understand. it was like a breath of fresh air.

lately, he had been in an even better mood, something his friends even noticed about him. you were starting to finally let him in. you were letting him walk you to class, letting him take you to his favorite hidden spots in the castle.

most importantly, though, you were starting to talk to him. not just some insignificant conversation about homework, or the weather. real conversations.

you were telling him about books you liked, about something funny one of your friends had told you. you were rambling on and on to him, and he loved hearing it.

he loved seeing the way your eyes lit up when you were speaking about someone you were close with, or a new book.

the expression he held when you rambled to him like this could only be explained as pure love. he had waited months to even get you to open up to him, and it was finally happening.

he always made sure you knew he was listening, whether that was by asking you questions as you went, keeping his eyes trained on you, or even buying you the second book in a series you had mentioned liking.

even despite the way you’d protest your rants, saying you didn’t want to annoy him, or something of the sort, he loved hearing tour voice. he’d listen to anything if it was coming from you.

he noticed everything about you.

none of his friends, or even himself, could think off another time where he was this head over heels for someone. it was like his former self went out the window as soon as you walked in. he couldn’t even imagine himself with a girl that wasn’t you, and he didn’t want to anyways.

you were all he need- all he wanted.

“theodore, are these flowers from you?” you called out when he stepped into your dorm.

you gestured to a beautiful array of red lillies, the scent they put off filling the room with a pleasant, light aroma.

“yeah. saw ‘em and thought of you,” he admitted casually, as though he hadn’t specifically looked for flowers of that kind, knowing you paid attention to the meanings of flowers and whatnot.

aside from that, he just thought they were pretty. naturally, you had popped into his mind.

you flashed him a genuine smile, a sight that looked straight out of his dreams.

“thank you,” you grinned, the sentiment behind the flowers being one of the sweetest things you could think of.

“finally gonna let me take you out?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

despite his confident demeanor, he was one step away from straight up begging. he had waited months, all he wanted was for you to say yes.

you thought over it. you had heard girls in the hallway talking about how he hadn’t given them the time of day recently… and he had been so sweet lately. he had been trying repeatedly, not being deterred at all by your rejections. plus, what was the harm in just one date? one date didn’t mean anything was set in stone.

it was just… one date.

“yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, noticing the way his smirk turned into a large grin.

he felt like a child with how smiley he got around you, especially now that you had given him a chance to take you on a real date.

theodore nott taglist: lmk if you’d like to be added!

dividers made by h-aewo!

[teddybeartoji]

film professor!toji, who always wears dark colored slacks and a button-up shirt, alongside with a tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of glasses that keep sliding down his nose. the watch on his wrist is always the same one, a relatively chunky silver one that surely can only look normal on a man his size. 

sometimes he rolls up his sleeves, sometimes he unbuttons a few buttons of his shirt; sometimes he ditches the tie entirely and goes for a less sophisticated look. the material wrapped around his biceps looks like it’s about to tear open whenever he folds his arms over his chest and his pants aren’t doing any better, his thick thighs are just bulging out whenever he decides to lean his ass against his desk. and he’s confident, he’s cocky. he looks tired as fuck and his hair is more often than not a complete mess, but needless to say, he always looks very, very good. 

film professor!toji, who’s got a habit of fidgeting with his pens. he’s either simply toying with them in his hands as he introduces the next film you’ll be watching or he’s got one between his teeth as he watches you guys do your presentations. and he usually tucks the thing behind his ear when he’s done playing with it. 

film professor!toji, who’s constantly throwing his legs on top of his desk when he’s listening to the class or when he’s showing you something from the projector. with his hands behind his head, he leans so far back in his chair that it has all of you placing bets on how long he’ll manage to hold that pose before he falls. he never does. 

film professor!toji, who’s an absolute sucker for films from the 80’s. indiana jones, alien, blade runner, scarface, evil dead etc etc – you name it, he’s seen it. has multiple big posters of said films in his classroom too btw. he’s not actually picky though, he’ll watch just about anything because well, why not. he’s not really pretentious either, though he will tease you if you claim a ‘silly’ film as your favourite but he won’t put you down for it. he’ll push you a bit, asking questions to test how sure you are of your answer and then just proceeds to watch you defend yourself with a long ramble with a sly little grin on his lips. that’s what he wants to see after all – that his students love films, no matter what kind. 

film professor!toji, who knows a lot of random facts about the most random films and is not afraid to very casually blurt them out during his classes. some of them are very informative and then some of them are rather questionable, leaning more towards a piece of gossip if anything else. but it’s not like anybody’s complaining.

film professor!toji, who asks what you guys have watched since your last class with him at the beginning of every single class. doesn’t spend an entire hour on this topic but it’s always a certified fifteen minute break from the actual studying because he thinks it’s important for his students to talk about films. to talk about what you saw – if you noticed any peculiarities or mistakes, whether you liked the thing or not. and he always listens; he sips his coffee with his pencil stuck behind his ear, and then proceeds to ask very specific questions. he seems to have seen, or at least to know, every single film ever made and it’s kind of ridiculous(ly hot).

film professor!toji, who's still somehow not entirely used to people calling him 'sir'. mr. fushiguro is what he usually prefers but the 'sir' still pops up every so often and it always catches him so off-guard that it takes him a second to realize that he's the sir.

film professor!toji, who rants in front of the whole class about how much it sucks to watch movies from your teeny tiny laptops. he’s a cinema guy, through and through. and of course, he understands if it’s like a money thing because well, it’s not the least expensive thing to do on a weekly basis but he just tries to emphasize how much better it is to watch things on the big screen. he urges all of you to always take the opportunity when it comes along. 

film professor!toji, who fucking hates grading any sort of papers. he just despises it. he huffs and puffs behind his desk with his head in his hands, contemplating whether this is the right job for him or not (he will never quit). 

film professor!toji, who mostly hangs out with his buddy down the hall, the loud-mouthed history teacher with pink hair. they go on smoke breaks together, laughing together over some stupid answer they saw on a test. 

film professor!toji, who throws his head back with an exasperated sigh every time he spots the white-haired physics professor staring into the hall from the small window on the door with a stupidly big grin on his face.

film professor!toji, who’s schedule falls just in line with the sly literature professor and his brother, the freaky philosophy professor. toji refuses to sit next to the latter, he finds him too off-putting. but with mr. geto – they like to drink their morning coffees together in silence in their own little corner, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. sometimes they talk about films as well, but they almost always end up bickering like some old people because their tastes do not align at all.

film professor!toji, who doesn’t miss the way some of the students seem to swoon over him – he finds it very amusing. he doesn’t really see the appeal, he thinks he’s way too old anyway.

film professor!toji, who’s eyes do seem to linger on you just a little longer than they do on others though. who does a very subtle double-take whenever you enter the room and who steals glances at you when he sees you in the halls. it’s not like he’d ever try anything, of course – that’d be incredibly inappropriate. you’ but he sure does think you’re pretty, there’s no denying of that… 

[logictoinsanity]

Everyone is always baffled when they find out Logan (Serious, Brooding, Angry) is with Wade (literally has never shut up once in his life) and they assume Logan spends all his time in agony, suffering through Wade's incessant ranting, or that he's an absolute master at tuning the man out

Every single one of them is so wrong

Oh Wade can be annoying, for sure, there's times where the ramblings seem excessively obnoxious, or Logan just doesn't have the energy to keep listening, and there's times where Logan wants nothing more than for him to shut the fuck up, days where it feels like his senses are just a little more enhanced than usual, or the ghosts in his mind are especially loud

But 97% of the time, Logan is listening, and even if its annoying, stupid, or something he simply could not care less about if he tried, listening to Wade talk is one of his favorite things in his life.

Logan's never been a crazy talkative guy, he often doesn't know what to say, and when he does say something it feels like it's almost always the wrong thing, he doesn't have to worry about that as much with Wade. He can be quiet, and know that Wade will fill the silence with something ridiculous and perverted and hilarious.

He remembers things, too, and that's baffling to Wade, who is very much used to people tuning him out, or simply not being able to commit most things he says to memory because there's so much so fast in so many different directions

Logan gets him, though, he's gotten very familiar with the way Wade talks, the way his brain works, he can keep up, and he cares, he doesn't dismiss Wade like so many other people.

Anyway, everyone is baffled by Logan and Wades relationship when they first find out, but anyone with half a brain who's watched then together for a while figures it out after the sixth time they watch Wade go on some crazy tirade, while Logan stares at him with the most love struck yet exasperated look on his face theyve ever seen, chiming in every now and then with small comments that leave Wade grinning or bent over laughing, the happiest anyone's seen him in a long time

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 · 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

ׂ╰┈➤ ◖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 ◗

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

cw : MDNI - S2 Arcane Act III [spoilers], parallel universe, alternate male reader, alternate Silco, slightly suggestive, top male reader, old man yaoi, mentions of nudity, chem-baron male reader, crime boss male reader, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of suicidal tendencies & thoughts, mentions of injuries, bitter sweet ending, open ended, fluff, angst, proofread. wc : 1.6k

__________________

now playing : What Have They Done To Us (from the series Arcane League of Legends) - Mako, Grey

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

prologue · epilogue ←

overview · With Silco dead and gone, it seemed as if all your strength, your will to fight, will to live — it all disappeared with him. It was as if your entire world had fallen apart all at once, that you'd been forsaken or damned by some higher power to simply live a life of constant cruelty. Just as it always has been, just as it always will be — toiling in misery as the place you once called home seemed to be burning before your eyes.

Or maybe, just maybe...it was all nothing but a bad dream.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You woke with an abrupt gasp, a cold sweat clinging onto your body after waking from a less than pleasant dream. Your breath stuttered as you fisted against the sheets to ground yourself to reality. As your vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, it was only then that you realized you were in bed within your allotted room. As the sheets stirred beside you, a slender hand moved to run itself against your bare, scar riddled body — starting at your stomach and slowly making its way up your chest — before finally settling against where your heart resided.

“You alright?” Silcos' voice cut through the quiet air of the room, now able to hear your sudden laboured breathing. He was just barely awake at the time, but the moment he not only heard, but felt you wake in such a panic, he didn't hesitate to come to your aid. The way your heart seemed to race under his touch only worried him that much more about your current state.

“Yeah, no, I just…I just had a weird dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about, just wasn't too fond of it since, well, it seemed so real. Call me crazy, but everyone we knew was there.” You wiped a hand against your own face, still half awake yourself. One hand went up to overlap the others while another went through your hair, combing it back with your fingers balling up towards the end. After a moment or so and being able to catch your breath, you laid yourself back down, resting against the pillow propped under your head.

Silco huffed out, doing his best to sit up, maneuvering a pillow behind his back as he moved positions. “Is that so?” He knew that you were prone to having vivid dreams every now and then, and when it was something intriguing or something that kept you up, he didn't mind letting you ramble on when recalling said events.

“I was some sort of…crime boss and so were you. But you were much scarier than me,” you started, only to snicker at the thought, practically hearing the other playfully roll his eyes at your active imagination. “Though, I will say it got really depressing rather…rather fast. Lots of people got hurt, people I cared about dearly. You, you were there, and suddenly…you weren't.”

“Darling,” he called out for you, though in the moment of recalling what felt like years worth of memories shoved into one dream, you couldn't help but to continue your rant before the thoughts completely disappeared from the forefront of your mind.

“You and Vander, god,” you sighed out, brows furrowing and eyes glancing about the ceiling, as if you were trying to find the image. “You two were up in arms against each other, and I…and I just sat and watched as everything burned. Like I was helpless to it all. The kids, they — Silco, bad things happened, left and right and it was as if the world was against you, us…me? And Powder, damn it, she was so…lost, so broken, and there…there was nothing I could do to—”

Your head snapped down to your arm as you felt a hand slip into your own, squeezing it reassuringly. Your head then tilted up, looking back to your companion with a slight pout on your lips.

“I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I'll always be beside you, understand?” Silco croaked out.

You gently smiled in turn, twisting to where you were laying on your side before reaching out to cup and caress against their face. “Just as I’ll be here next to you, unmoving. My love, unwavering,” you say onto him. Your thumb gently rubbed against the scarred skin of his face, tender touches under the discolored eye you'd come to adore, all before leaning in and tenderly pressing your lips against his own.

Silco reciprocated immediately, tilting his head as his own free hand came up to the nape of your neck, slowly threading his fingers through your hair before giving it a gentle tug, humming as he felt you groan into his mouth.

Regretfully pulling away, you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your heart throbbed within the confines of your ribcage as he looked at you with the same look he always gave you, the look that makes you fall harder for him everyday.

The look of absolute love, devotion, and admiration — the type of love you couldn't find anywhere else, the type you thought you never deserved.

But Silco knew you deserved more. You deserved the world and he'd give it to you the moment you asked, no hesitation.

Before long, the sheets were moved and your bodies were entangled. Your lips were quick to spoil and praise his skin, pressing hot, heavy kisses against his neck, slipping down to his collar, nipping away while he called your name in such a sultry tone. You practically melted. Your hands drifted to his sides, playing against his bare skin while his hands dipped and diverged, one against your back — brushing against the many scars you'd earned throughout the years — the other threading through your graying hair.

You were once again breathless, but for all the right reasons. A warmth surged through your body, swirling around your core as Silco egged you on.

Leaning up, you found yourself stealing a kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip before slowly pulling away, his teeth catching your bottom and tugging it shortly after. As you two parted, you couldn't help but to stare. Oh how you adored this man, would break the world for him if he asked or demanded it. What wouldn't you do for the man you loved. “I love you…”

Peering into his heterochromic eyes, he looked back into your own, just as he looked at you across the bar all those years ago. “I love you too darling, more than you'll ever know.” He pressed his lips against your once again.

“And nothing will ever change that.”

₊˚⊹ ₊

Your eyes shot open and your body lunged forward, gasping for air as if you'd been choking on fumes. You hacked and coughed before slamming yourself back against the brick wall you laid again, groaning as pain surged throughout the entirety of your body and a harsh banging against your temples. You could barely think in the moment, but you were awake enough to notice that you were somewhere shoved in an alley, slumped against one of its many grime covered walls.

Before you could even attempt to move again, there was a searing pain that seemed to occupy the entire left side of your body. Slowly turning your head, you gazed upon the rather harsh and horrific burns that were in your skin. A pained yell let loose from your lungs as you tried to sit up straight, the pain making your vision flash white.

The Lanes had gone to hell, devastation around every corner, and what was left for you?

Despair, destruction, it all came down and brought back nothing but misery. Something you'd been all too accustomed to.

“What a fucked up dream,” you sneered, wincing with every breath you took.” Maybe…Maybe just one good thought of him before it's lights out.” In the corner of your eye there seemed to be an eerie green glow that lit up the darkness of the Lanes. It caused you to weakly turn your head towards the product of such a glaring light. Only then, could you remember where you truly were, what you'd done.

You could do nothing but sit and watch as The Last Drop was engulfed in flames, the fire lapping at every entrance, window, and wall. You could still feel the flames that nipped at your flesh, eating away as you slumped yourself at the bar in those final moments. Everything started to make sense to you, watching Jinx as she lit the place a blaze, watching her shadow, foreign without her long hair.

The memory was too painful for her, and you didn't blame her.

You could never blame her.

You could never hate her. After all, she was your forsakened daughter, whether you acknowledged it or not. The last thing you could have imagined was her harming Silco, but in the end, you knew she couldn't have done such a thing on purpose, not when she missed him so dearly. Just as you did.

You wanted your suffering to end there, as sad as it seemed, you saw it as a means to an end. One last drink before a final goodbye.

The three people you held dearly, all three of them, gone. Only you remained, to suffer in their silence.

You couldn't remember if you dragged yourself out, or if someone else did, but as you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice encircling your mind.

“You aren't just a mutt fighting for scraps anymore. You're a hound willing to fight for what's yours. You aren't pathetic enough to put yourself down, nor has anyone had the strength or audacity to kill you. So do what you do best…and fight.”

It was as if he was right in front of you.

“Keep fighting, or I swear I'll take everything you care about and watch it burn. Keep fighting. For me…”

As the blaze that once was the Last Drop continued the burn, you couldn't help but to think rather fondly of the dream you had. “Maybe in another life, yeah?” You muttered to yourself. Staring off into the flames, you could feel the darkness seeping in, ready to take you down into the depths of unconsciousness once again.

“Maybe…what could have been.”

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

a/n : thank you for suffering with me, arcane gripped my heart and I'M STILL HURTING— anywho, don't forget to like, comment, or repost! Arcane requests are open! <3

[carlsangel]

FREE TO FUCK

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have a hideout.)

tags: oral sex (f!receiving)

masterlist here!

There were a good couple times where you and Carl had gotten caught. There was an occasion where you were having your weekly morning sex and Rick walked in, also one time Eugene sort of interrupted Carl eating you out in a truck. It was like you guys couldn’t win. There was almost never a time where there wasn’t a risk of you guys getting caught or interrupted.

You guys thought it was fun for a while and then it got irritating, it felt like everyone was constantly in your business. So, you were on a hunt to find a solution. You thought maybe just reducing your time together to nights but that wasn’t really an option after learning that Rick never cared to knock. During the day wouldn’t be a huge issue, but for some reason it didn’t feel safe in Alexandria. To have sex there, that is.

It’s not like it felt safer in the woods, in fact that’s the opposite but you just wished you had a nice hideaway. Somewhere where you were free to fuck. But anyway that wasn’t your top priority.

One day, while walking to your date spot with Carl in the woods, you decided to take a longer walk and return back to the tree later when you were less energetic. So you walk further along the trail with you almost never do. You come across a small cabin that Carl doesn’t quite pay any mind to. “Woah…” You slow down your steps and turn towards it, causing him to stop as well. “Oh yeah I found that a while ago. Cleared it, nothing really useful.”

You look over at him and nod, looking between him and the cabin but an idea. You practically dragged him over and bursted through the door. He did clear it, but it was still a mess. There was random papers and books all over the floor, the bedding for the bed was halfway across the room and the couch was missing some cushions.

“You know if we fixed this up a bit more and brought stuff from home we could make this such a nice place to hang out.” You ramble as you look around each part of the cabin as to what you could bring or how you could fix some parts. Carl wasn’t really following. “But why?” He’d ask, standing in the middle of the cabin looking around it just thinking it’s a total dump.

“Carl imagine coming here when everyone’s home. All we have to say is that we’re going on a date in the woods and we can come here. Mess around, hang out with the possibility of no one bothering us.” It all started to click in his brain and he began to imagine every little thing you both could get up to while alone here. It also didn’t have to be so sexual, though. He imagined just sitting in the cabin quietly, reading comics or listening to music together on the bed just enjoying eachother’s company. The only thing that was missing was a bath you two could sit in.

Regardless, you both got to work. You got a car and loaded some stuff inside that you knew some people in Alexandria wouldn’t miss. Before you knew it, the cabin was ready. The bed was ten times nicer (you stole a comforter and such) there were bean bags and books around that you’d enjoy and it was a lot less cluttered. Very quiet with warm lighting (you also stole lanterns and candles) so it was quite cozy.

─── ⋆⋅ 𐚁 ⋅⋆ ───

One particular day, a day before a large trade fair would take place in Alexandria, it was insanely chaotic. You were yelled at multiple times by seven different authoritative figures and there was a bit of pressure when in all reality it wasn’t that serious. Afterwards you really needed to wind down, so you dragged Carl somewhere far away.

To your cabin.

There, you’d settle into your guys’ bed into the comfy blankets which you’d take the opportunity to rant about your shitty day. “Also Tammy had such an attitude with me for placing the fucking crate of apples on the floor instead of the wobbly ass table Eugene was trying to level. What was I supposed to do, let them topple all over him? It’s complete bullshit.”

He rubbed your shoulder while you talked. He loved hearing you speak, hell he loved hearing you make noise. Which gave him an idea. He slowly pulled away while you continued to speak, silently propping himself between your legs so he can tug down your shorts. You were aware but you just let it him because it was sort of like a routine. It was either him fingering you while you ranted or he ate you out. Today was an oral type of day.

He’d start with just plain kisses on your thighs, looking up at you from between your legs. You were still complaining. “Also when I went back to the moving truck to get a box out, my jacket snagged on the hook that holds the plastic thingies and- Carl that feels so good- and it fucking ripped the pocket off.” You explained, still quite irritated. Carl however was still focused on you. He’d gently run his tongue over the fabric of your underwear and once he felt your hips jerk slightly as he grazed over your clit, he pressed a kiss at the direct spot. Your sentences were interrupted by your soft moans which just made him smile a little.

“I dunno. Mmh-I felt like everyone was out to get me today.” You end your rant there and Carl slides your underwear to the side to press a kiss to your actual skin before starting it gently lap at it. One after another, you got more and more wet which allowed him to suck your clit quite easily. “Oh fuck.” He moaned at your words as he found a nice steady pace to rock his head at, the vibration of his voice doing wonders against your heat. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you weren’t quiet for a second. “This is a really good way to shut me up by the way.” You tell him between moans, he smiles against you and lifts his head up so he can talk to you.

Just the sight of him was absolutely beautiful. His lips were red, like always. Your slick was just all over his chin but he looked at you so perfectly. Like you were the only being to exist. “I’m just trying to relieve your stress.” You look down at him quite happily and wait for him to continue. “Also you taste good.” He tilts his head and he just looks so sweet. At least sweet enough for you to sort of giggle at before your laughter was interrupted by Carl prodding his tongue straight into your hole.

You respond fairly loud, you’re very grateful for the cabin otherwise it’d be very awkward if you were in the house. Anyway, he slid his tongue up and down your folds, his eyes shut as he moves his head in circular motions with his tongue flat against you. He practically nuzzled into your pussy, flicking his tongue in and out fairly rapidly.

“Tha-that’s perfect.” Literally every word and every moan that came out of your mouth made him feel absolutely amazing. He loved knowing he was doing good for you, that he was pleasing you. He strived to make you feel loved. He continued the movements with his tongue, but his hands moved up your body and under your shirt to pull your bra down, giving him access to massage your breasts while he worked on you with his mouth. You’d smile at the amount of pleasure he was giving you, sort of giggling at how great it was.

You couldn’t keep quiet, everything he was doing was absolutely perfect. As you got closer he just flicked his tongue quicker, sucking harder; he could tell you were close because you started to squirm a little bit. He slid his hands down from your chest to your thighs to hold you down. “Please don’t stop-” You’d clutch his hair in your hands, gently tugging it every time he hit a spot just right. Everything was just turning him on as well but he was so focused on you, he didn’t even think about himself. He just wanted you to cum.

He knew you were getting close but you were speechless, he’s just depending on your noises and how your body feels to determine when you’ve finished. Between harsh flicking of his tongue and the sloppy noises coming from your heat and his mouth, you were right on the edge. You prop yourself up on your hands to watch him. He was intensely focused. His eyes were shut and he was licking long stripes up your cunt. It all began to be too much.

It didn’t take much longer before you came all in his mouth.

You fell back on your elbows and Carl pulled away, looking at you shyly. “You’re so pretty.” He blushes a bit before fixing your underwear back, then your bra. “You are.” You reply, watching him get closer and settling in on top of you. Once you’re all back to normal he gently holds the sides of your face to press a kiss to your forehead in satisfaction. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck.

“Feel better?”

“Way better.”

a/n: i feel like im so bad at writing smut LMFAO like this physically pained me to write bc >_< it’s so shit BUT ANYWAY i loved this little idea of having a little cabin with him i think it’s sweet. I HOPE U LOVE IT

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[enwoso]

I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY || alessia russo

based loosely off the song by gracie abram’s. i rewrote this three times and i’ve got it to where i’m happy with it. wouldn’t say it’s my best but hey ho. if there’s part that don’t make sense i do apologise i wrote some of this while being half asleep🙃

ANYWAYS hope you all enjoy! it’s a long one<33

masterlist

"i miss you" her raspy voice echoed down your phone, as she slurred over and over how she missed you. the sound of the music blaring in the background told you that she was out in a club.

whilst you were sat on your couch at home, in some old joggers and a hoodie which most definitely had toothpaste stains on it. love island playing as you were catching up on the last few episodes you'd missed, which was playing just as white noise at the moment.

"alessia, you need to go and find the rest of the girls." you said bluntly, the blonde having told you moments before her i miss you rant that she was out with the arsenal girls, which you probably could have guessed anyways after there win in the league early in the day.

but you also wanted to get back to your series, wishing you weren't having this conversation with your ex but you also couldn't find it in yourself to just hang up on her as you didn't want her to be in any harm — especially while she was drunk.

why did you still care?

"i miss you, y/n" she slurred out again, you could imagine the stupid dopey smile on her face as she said the words, her drunken ramble continuing, "i wish you were here, i miss your cute smile and, and those lips. i miss everything about you."

"alessia can you please just go and find the girls" you begged not wanting to carry on hearing her pleads but you also couldn't bring yourself to press the red button which your finger had loomed over for the past ten minutes.

"i'm sorry for everything y/n, i know you hate me but i still love you, i promise" the blonde slowly slurred out again as you could hear the pout in her voice as she spoke.

you didn't hate her, well maybe you didn’t, you hadn't quite figured that out yet where the blonde stood in your mind.

more just trying to space yourself away from everything that happened with alessia however that proved pretty difficult when you both played football, maybe not for the same team anymore but you'd still see her at england camp.

"alessia, please can you just tell me who i can call to make sure your gonna be safe?" you hated that you still cared, that you had stayed on the phone listening to her ramble drunkenly on about you for the past twenty minutes.

knowing that by the morning she wouldn't even remember it or anything she had said so why were you sat listening?

"can you stop callin' me alessia. i'm baby, less, darling, pretty girl, gorgeous—" she began to rattle out all the names you used to call her, opening up another wound you had spent months healing as with each words she spoke you could feel her opening more and more.

"alessia! will you just answer the damn question!" you yelled down the phone, cutting her off as the frustration growing in your voice was obvious, your patience was wearing thin. you didn't want to hear her voice anymore.

hearing the blonde mumble something about your bluntness, as she hummed on probably trying to figure out herself who would be the best option.

"lotte."

after the drunken call you'd gotten from your ex, you hadn't heard anything from her. not that you expected her too. she wasn't yours to be worried about, but it had left you confused especially over her words. they lingered in the back of your mind. what if she meant it. drunk words are sober thoughts as they say after all.

you knew now though you were just strangers who show up but don't matter enough to each other to be friends. however deep down you knew you had too much history to be just strangers.

weeks had gone since that night and you were arriving at england camp for the set of friendlies which were happening in sunny spain, arriving with the rest of the manchester united girls, you knew she was here. you'd seen it on instagram.

so once you arrived you could feel the tension rising in your shoulders and your chest. grabbing your key for your room and heading straight up there wanting to avoid any chance of running into her.

you hadn't seen her since december, in the home game against arsenal. you both didn't say a word to each other, you wouldn't even look in her direction. so the thought of seeing her again was sending you into hard drive, you weren't sure how you'd react, if you'd react at all.

getting yourself changed and flopping onto the bed you'd call your own for the next ten days. your body realxing into the soft sheets, as you began to flick through the channels on the tv hoping that something would take your interest.

however, you only got two clicks in when there was knocks echoeing through your room. a loud groan coming from you as you pulled yourself up from the comfort of your bed, dragging your socked feet towards the door and opening it.

"mary-"

"come on, everyone's waiting for you to come down" mary interrupted you as you looked on with a confused look, "what for?"

"cause we're watching a film as a team and if your not there then we aren't a team!" mary stated as if it was obvious reaching out to grab your arm as you nodded.

"wait! let me get my keycard!" you said quickly, stopping the door from closing as you heard a tusk of the teeth from the goalkeeper as she mumbled out her complaints. grabbing your keycard off the side table and slipping the card into your pocket, praying you wouldn't forget where you'd put it.

walking down the corridors of the hotel complex the FA had situated the team in, side by side with mary it felt a little eerie. something felt off but you couldn't quite put a finger to it.

coming out the elevator as mary continued to chat your ears off, about anything and everything. from telling you what she did last weekend to what she had for breakfast this morning. but you didn't mind, you would class mary as one of your closest friends in football.

she'd been there for you from the very first day you started at united, helping you settle in to helping you navigate your feelings after she happened.

although you didn't say it very often, you were very thankful for her and you honestly dreaded to think where you'd be without mary, even more so in the past few months.

which is why- you were brought out your thoughts as you felt yourself walk into something or rather someone.

"i wasn't looking- sorry" the blonde mumbled stumbling over her words a little as she looked up from her phone, a slight look of shock on her face when she realised who she'd actually walked into.

"s'fine" you said simply, taking in the blonde’s appearance a little. her hair scraped back in a low bun,

the shorter strands sticking out of the bun. she'd cut her hair again, you could tell. dressed in a grey hoodie and some blue england shorts, her legs bare as her socks covered her feet.

her blue eyes which you'd spent many of your nights getting lost staring into— why were you still stood there?

forcing your body to move, not before catching her disappointed look on her face at the few words you'd spoke to her. the blonde looking as if she was going to say something but her lips pressed back together as she carried on walking the way she was going originally.

"well.. that was a tiny bit awkward!" mary murmured as an awkward laugh came from her, you totally forgetting that mary was stood next to you as you tried to steady your breathing to go back to normal.

"well you could have warned me!"

after the awkward interaction with the blonde in the hallway, you’d noticed her small looks towards you before she would quickly look away. probably in fear of you catching her staring at you.

it was now down time and you were sat on one of the sun lounges, hoping to catch a few of the sun rays. with your book in hand and a fresh bottle of ice cold water you had your afternoon sorted.

glancing every few minutes or whenever a loud cheer came from the girls who were playing a game in the pool. your eyes immediately looking for the blonde before you would switch your eyes to someone else.

"why don't you just talk to her?" mary had noticed you looking towards the blonde, especially in the past few days. the goalkeeper being sat on the lounger just next to you.

she'd known since the day you joined united and no matter how many times you would say you were over the blonde or that you didn't care. mary knew that couldn't be further from the truth, she could tell. she's didn't need you to admit it out loud to know.

but mary had been put in a little bit of a hard position when the break up happened. as she was close with both you and alessia. hearing both sides of the story and giving you both advice which from the older girl you both valued deeply. however mary always claimed herself to be switzerland when asked who side to take.

the only side mary was taking was the side where both her close friends were happy whether that was the two of you happy together again, or if that was you happy with someone else. although deep down she was hoping for the first option!

"talk to who?" you tried the oblivious act, as you turned the page of your book. your eyes trying to follow the words on the page.

pretending you didn't know who she was talking about in hopes you would avoid the topic all together as well as hoping the conversation would change. but you also knew how stubborn mary could be.

"y/n don't play thick with me, you know who i mean" mary gave you the pointed look that told you she wasn't going to give up until you gave her an answer.

"maz i- i can't." you stutters over your words as you saw the sympathetic nod and smile that the goalkeeper sent your way. mary understood why, but she was also close with a certain blonde and knew exactly how she felt.

"but what's stopping you? i know that brain of yours has been whizzing with questions since you know, it ended on a sour note" mary began as you placed your book on your chest, turning over to face mary listening to her as she spoke.

"you don't have to magically become best friends or even be friends for that matter, just what have you got to loose by talking to her?" mary shrugged, as you hummed looking up from the ground. you knew mary was right you didn't have anything else to loose.

"mhm i'll think about it"

you were in london, not by personal choice. united had been playing chelsea in the fa cup. after a full 90' minutes on the pitch you had been longing for your bed since the final whistle blew.

but you'd gone out and had a few drinks with the girls to celebrate before returning to the hotel as the some of the other girls where going off into the next club along the street.

you'd just gotten changed and was about to begin brushing your teeth when there was a quiet knock ringing around your hotel room. at first you thought you'd imagined it but the knocks continued this time a little louder and more continuous.

huffing and placing your toothbrush on the side of the sink, "mary! i haven't got-" you opened the door thinking it would be mary asking if you had a spare key card for her room except it wasn't.

"oh" you whispered as you stared at the last person you thought would be standing at your door just past midnight.

"alessia what are you doing here?" you asked dismissively, wondering how she even knew where you were staying.

"um i was hoping to talk.. to you" you could tell she was nervous, her quiet tone which had replaced her usual confident tone not only gave it away but the fact she was swaying slightly from side to side. a thing she did when she was overthinking something.

"at quarter past twelve in the morning?" you pointed out tiredly looking at her as she timidly nodded before opening her mouth again.

"it's just- i've been wanting to talk to you for ages but it never seemed like the right time- and mary she said where you were saying-" she explained as you still held the same confused look still not quite grasping the fact she was stood at your hotel door at stupid o'clock in the morning but maybe that was also the alcohol in your system slowing your thought process down.

the blonde noticed the hesitated look on your face. "i'm sorry, this is stupid- i'll go. forget i was ever here. i'm sorry" alessia spoke fast, beginning to spin on her heel, not giving you a chance to respond.

but you quickly before she got to far away grabbed her arm pulling her back towards you. why? you didn't know yourself but something inside you was telling you to hear her out.

"no, i'm just a little shocked, you can come in" you said shallowly, moving out the way as the blonde wondered into your hotel room. taking a deep breath in as you shut the door behind you reminding yourself mental to have a chat with mary tomorrow.

"so?" you asked, hoping she would get to why she was actually here watching from behind as the blonde took a seat on your bed, you sitting on the one opposite her.

"i just wanted to see where we stand with each other-" the blonde started as you scoffed a small smile appearing on your face it dropped just a quick as you realised she was serious, "really?"

"yes y/n, look i know you hate me and you have every right to but i just want us to be civil or friends or something. i don't know" the blonde huffed as you nodded slightly with what she was saying.

a silence filling up the room, and an awkward silence at that.

"i miss you and i'm sorry for the way things ended" alessia admitted as your head snapped up. memories of the words she said to you when she was drunk flooding back within a second.

you paused, your head spinning giving you a slight headache, but that could also be from the shots you had taken mere hours ago. “i don’t hate you..” you whispered. this time the blonde looking at you her head tilted slightly sensing the fact you weren’t finished with what you needed to say.

“you don’t?” alessia asked, a slight bit of relief coming over her as you shook your head.

“i don’t but you really fucking hurt me alessia, i know you moved to arsenal for your career. and i’m not trying to take anything away from you for that cause i’ll admit your shining there. but i was your girlfriend. i thought you loved me and you just threw me to the side as if i meant nothing as if our relationship meant nothing!” you paused, taking a deep breathe as you continued.

“i had to ask your fucking teammates how you were doing just to know if you were okay cause you couldn’t seem to find the time answer my messages or calls..” you trailed off, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

“do you know what that felt like, to feel so un-important to someone that i cared and loved so much and someone who was supposed to love me.” you breathed out rubbing over your eyes to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.

alessia looked at you were pure sorrow in her eyes, a sad smile on her face as she looked down at her hands playing with the gold ring that sat on her middle finger on her left hand.

“i didn’t know..” alessia whispered, still sliding her ring on and off her hand unable to look at you as guilt filled her body from your confession.

“of course you didn’t! you never made an effort once you moved to london!” you spat back, instantly regretting the out-lash as you pinched the bridge of your nose. before moving from sitting opposite the blonde to sit next to her on your bed.

“all i want is a second chance, just as friends nothing more. i meant it when i said i miss you” alessia confessed as you hummed. “i could say it a thousand times that i’m sorry for what i put you through but that won’t do it justice, i just want for our past to be put behind us.. and i would like to get to know you, the new you. if that’s okay with you.” alessia smiled as you nodded.

“so friends then?” you asked, alessia moving her eye line to meet yours her smile still on her face. “friends!” she moved slightly forward to hug you but stopped half way thinking she misread the situation spluttering an apology out as you shook your head wrapping your arms around the blonde in a friendly hug, pulling away after a few seconds.

“so do you still like ketchup with everything?”

part of you should have known you could never just be friends with the blonde. after the night where you spent with her in your hotel room talking the entire night, getting to know each other. rediscovering old habits and discovering new ones.

you found yourself wanting her attention. needing it.

after getting only a few hours sleep that night, you having a hard time saying goodbye to her after only just gotten her back in your life after so long. you didn’t want to say bye, again.

“i don’t want to go” you whined like a child as you slowly did your hair as a giggle came from alessia who was sprawled out on the bed.

“you have to though! we can see each other soon” alessia promised as you still sat tying a hair tie in your hair a huff coming from you. “but that’s too long!”

“it won’t be, either i’ll come up to you or you can come down to me”

and much to both of your promises only a week later after constant messages and facetimes, you found yourself at the blondes apartment in london. finding your first next free day and getting the first train down.

as you spent the evening watching a film, both cuddled up on her couch eating dinner which she had prepared and made before the night coming to a close and as you were going to the guest bedroom, her hand capturing yours and pulling you into her room.

you weren’t gonna lie it did feel weird to be this close to her after so long trying to distance yourself from her, but everything you knew lead you back to her.

you were lying on her bed face to face, as her hand gently came up to move the strand of hair from your face.

a small sigh coming from you, you felt at peace again. as alessia looked at you with nothing but love in those blue eyes of her, looking at you as if you were the only person in the world.

her hand dropping from your face, but before it could drop to its original place you grabbed it. lacing your hand between her, you noticing how your hands fitted perfectly together. together like a puzzle piece.

"i love you so much." she said quietly, a slight smile appearing on your face. but just as quickly as your hand laced with hers, she kissed you.

you responded with such enthusiasm that alessia was a little taken aback at first, but regained her thoughts and reminded herself of what was happening.

alessia was really kissing you.

you were really kissing her.

a feeling you'd been craving for just under a year, since the last time she set foot in your apartment in manchester. when she kissed you goodbye on the cheek, as you stood there shoulders sunken in and lifeless.

nothing could have meant more than her, nothing could have have more beauty than this moment. the way her hands pressed into your chest, the way her blue eyes fluttered closed. you fit into her like a glove, her kiss was like the beating of a butterfly's wings. so soft and wholesome until it became addictive.

and in those few moments you were reminded of why you fell for alessia in the first place. her scent was what you craved. you wanted to have her close to you, unsure where she ended and you began. you’d rather walk through hell again and again then lose her again.

her entrancing eyes, her captivating smile against your lips, her laugh when you did something silly, her hair which now hung just at her shoulder height as she looked at you, her raspy morning voice, her love was everything to you.

but your stupid, stupid lungs had to find air again, as you pulled away from her still lingering in close proximity to her. somehow alessia had moved position as she was now hovering over you, as she straddled you.

she was looking down at you with such an inviting warmth that you wanted to kiss her again, the silence still lingered as she pulled away you adjusting yourself to sit a little upright. a heat rising to your face.

"sorry, i-i shouldn't have..." you trailed of quietly looking at your fingers playing with the rings that you wore.

"what do you mean?" she said softly, watching the your worry struck face. "that wa- it's okay love"

"o-okay?" your voice was hoarse. you cleared your throat, laughing a little before she made the move to kiss you again.

"we'll take it slow, i promise. but i know what i want and that for you to be in my future and if i have to wait then that's what i'll do." alessia spoke with such reassurance and pureness, that made your heart beat just that little faster as you nodded.

a small smile coming onto the blondes face as she leaned forwards to place a gentle kiss onto your cheek.

"i love you, so much."

[ankababy]

A Home (part 6)

Part 1 Part 5 Part 7

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Y/N, the lovebug, the sweetheart ever—oh, and those two ig…

“…And over there,” you pointed to a faded storefront with a half-shattered window. “was where I used to go shopping with my friends. God, we spent so much money on the dumbest things. It was never even about what we bought, really. It was about the excuse to just… be out. Y’know? Just walking around, talking, looking at boys, giggling.”

You laughed to yourself. “There was this one time, right outside that door—” you gestured vaguely at the entrance. “my friend almost got hit by a car because she was too busy ranting about how much she hated a boy. She just stepped into the street like a complete idiot. We had to grab her by the back of her hoodie and yank her back before she got flattened.”

Niragi, walking to your right, let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Dumbass.”

“Right?” you beamed at him. “She was so mad at us after, too, like we had embarrassed her, but it was fun. We had fun. I miss them.”

You didn’t say it with sadness. Just a simple truth. You missed them, but you weren’t dwelling on it. There was no point in that.

On your left, Chishiya still wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was listening. He always listened.

Niragi, though, was half-distracted, glancing into broken windows and abandoned stores, searching. “We better find a damn gun shop soon.” he muttered. “Or at least some assholes carrying the right bullets.”

“Mm.” you hummed thoughtfully. “What do you even do with that many bullets?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What the fuck do you think? Shoot people.”

You gave him an unimpressed glance. “Obviously, but like, how do you not run out all the time? You shoot at everything.”

“Yeah.” he said. “So I need more.”

Chishiya finally spoke. “You’re acting like he has any self-restraint.”

“Hey, fuck you.” Niragi shot back.

You smiled to yourself. Even their bickering had settled into something more natural, something less venomous.

You adjusted the bag on your shoulder, glancing around at the empty streets. It was eerie, walking through what once was a lively city, now nothing but quiet. But you kept talking. Filling the silence, filling the space between you and the two broken boys at your sides.

And they let you.

You stepped up onto a broken concrete barrier, testing its stability before deciding it was safe enough to balance on. The edge was uneven, cracked, and worn down by time and nature, but you didn’t care. It gave you something to do while you talked—something other than just walking.

Niragi barely spared you a glance, too busy peering into the ruins of an old electronics store, while Chishiya didn’t even react.

Still, you kept going, balancing carefully as you continued to ramble. “This place was so much better before everything went to shit.” you said, arms stretched out slightly for balance. “There was always something to do. Always somewhere to be. I could be out all day and still feel like I hadn’t done enough.”

You took another careful step forward, teetering for just a second before catching yourself. “Now it’s just… empty. I mean, I get it, obviously. Death games and all that. But it’s weird, right? The silence?”

No answer.

Of course, no answer.

You glanced down at them, unimpressed. “You two are so fun to talk to.”

Chishiya didn’t even bother looking up. “You talk enough for all three of us.”

“Wow.” you said, dryly. “That almost hurt my feelings.”

Niragi snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over your chest. “I am a delight, actually.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes, looking back toward the stores. “Sure.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, taking another step forward—but the concrete under your foot crumbled slightly, throwing you off balance.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto the closest thing to you.

Which just so happened to be Chishiya’s head.

He let out a soft hnn of irritation, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t push you off. He just let you use him for balance, barely sparing you a glance.

“…Alright.” Niragi smirked, watching. “That was fucking funny.”

You finally steadied yourself, fingers still in Chishiya’s hair for a second longer than necessary before you pulled away. “That almost felt like you helping me, Chishiya.”

“I did nothing.” he muttered, brushing his hair back into place.

“Exactly.” You grinned. “And that’s exactly what I needed. You’re so stable.”

He shot you a look, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes.” you said, completely serious. “I’m going to start using you for support more often.”

“Don’t.”

“No promises.”

Niragi snorted, kicking at a stray piece of rubble on the ground. “I swear, the shit you get away with…”

“What can I say?” You hopped off the barrier, landing lightly on the ground next to him. “I have a certain charm.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes again, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Chishiya, as expected, said nothing. But he didn’t complain when you kept walking next to him, a little too close, just to bother him.

“How many days do you guys have left?”

Chishiya didn’t even hesitate. “Four.”

Niragi, on the other hand, just blinked at you, clearly not having an answer.

“…Niragi?”

He shrugged, kicking a piece of debris out of his way. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

You frowned. “What do you mean, doesn’t matter?”

“I’ll go play today.” he said, completely unbothered. “I’ll be fine.”

Wow. Okay.

You stared at him for a second longer, something unsettled twisting in your stomach.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal—to him, at least. But it was to you.

Still, you didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just sighed, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you kept moving.

“Alright.” you said eventually “Just don’t die, okay?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What, you’d miss me?”

“Yes.” you said immediately, no hesitation. “Obviously.”

That caught him off guard for a split second. Just a second. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he didn’t believe you.

You let it go. For now.

Instead, you found other things to focus on—like the fact that there were plenty of climbable structures around you.

“Hold on.” you said, pausing near a rusted-out car. “I wanna try something.”

Neither of them reacted, which meant neither of them told you not to do it. Which, in your mind, meant you had full permission.

So, naturally, you stepped onto the hood, testing its stability.

Nothing happened.

Good enough.

You took another step, then another, making your way up until you were balanced on the roof of the car.

Niragi didn’t even look at you. He was busy rummaging through the ruins of an old sporting goods store, checking shelves for anything useful. Probably bullets.

Chishiya, unsurprisingly, didn’t care either.

Still, you kept going, stepping up onto the ledge of the store’s broken window frame.

And then, for the fuck of it, you jumped—landing lightly on the edge of an old streetlight pole that had fallen at an angle, one foot in front of the other as you balanced your way down.

Still, no reaction.

You huffed, shaking your head as you hopped back down onto solid ground. “Tough crowd.”

Chishiya gave you a glance, completely disinterested. “You say that like it’s new information.”

“I keep hoping it’ll change.”

“Your mistake.”

You groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down your face before turning to Niragi, who was still focused on his little bullet hunt.

“And you.” you said, hands on your hips. “Nothing? Not even a little bit impressed?”

He snorted. “I’ve seen better.”

You gasped. “Excuse me?”

He just smirked, shaking a box of bullets in your direction before shoving it into his pocket.

You narrowed your eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, you just kept moving, hopping over debris, balancing on curbs, talking way too much.

And the whole time, they stayed beside you. Not because they were entertained—not because they cared about what you were saying—but just because.

And that was enough.

You walked ahead of them, hopping onto the curb and balancing your way across it like you were walking a tightrope, talking and talking, the way you always did.

They let you.

They always let you.

But they didn’t really listen.

Not really.

Chishiya walked with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes half-lidded, letting the noise of your voice filter in and out without attaching much importance to any of it. He was perceptive, sharp as ever—he always knew where you were, what you were doing, if you were about to do something reckless—but that wasn’t the same as caring.

And Niragi? He walked beside you like you weren’t even there, flicking through boxes of bullets, stuffing them into his pockets, only responding when you directly addressed him.

And even then, he was a dick about it.

But why wouldn’t he be?

Neither of them had a reason to be nice to you.

The three of you were together out of convenience. That was all.

They weren’t your friends.

They weren’t fond of you.

They weren’t bonding with you.

They were using you.

Maybe not in some grand, intentional way—but you were useful.

You cooked for them. Cleaned up after them. Brought them things. Did the kind of things a normal, kind person would do.

And they took it.

They let you give and give and give, and they didn’t think twice about taking from you.

Because why would they?

Chishiya wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t the type to form emotional attachments, didn’t care about things like warmth and kindness. He watched the way you doted on them, and he let you, but he didn’t feel anything about it.

And Niragi? Niragi was a sadist. If he liked you, it was for the wrong reasons.

He liked watching you react to him. Liked how easily he could get a rise out of you. Liked how you let him push and push and push without ever pushing back.

And maybe, in some deep, twisted, rotted part of him, he liked the attention. The way you always seemed to orbit him, always checking in, always caring.

Not that it mattered.

Because at the end of the day, if you were gone, if you disappeared, if you never came back—they’d survive.

They’d move on.

And that was something you hadn’t realized yet.

Or maybe you had. Maybe, on some level, you knew what this was.

Maybe you were just ignoring it. Maybe you thought if you were good enough—sweet enough—they’d learn to care.

Maybe you thought you could fix them.

But you couldn’t.

Because Chishiya was a sociopath.

And Niragi was a psychopath.

And you?

You were just a stupid, sweet thing with a bleeding heart.

And Niragi knew the way your hands always found their way to him—little touches, little grazes, a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, in his hair.

You touched him like he was something soft. Something fragile. Something human.

Like you actually cared.

And that was the problem.

Because he liked it.

More than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t just that it felt good—though, fuck, it did. It was the way you did it. The way you offered it, like you wanted to touch him. Like it was just natural for you to do it.

Niragi didn’t get that kind of touch.

Not before the Borderlands. Not ever.

People didn’t touch him. Not like that.

They hit him. Dragged him. Held him down.

But this? This was something else.

And the longer he had it, the deeper he got into it.

Like a drug. Like a sickness.

Like something he didn’t want to need, but did.

And it pissed him off.

Because you were too fucking good at it. Too sweet. Too easy. You weren’t even trying to pull him in. You were just doing it. Just being you.

And he knew, deep down, that was what made it worse.

Because it wasn’t fake. He was used to fake. Could deal with fake. Could sniff it out and spit it back in their faces.

But you meant it.

And it was fucking him up.

Because no one ever had.

And then there was Chishiya. Chishiya, who saw it all.

And he knew.

Knew that Niragi was getting hooked.

That Niragi was drowning in something too deep, something he couldn’t control, couldn’t claw his way out of.

And Chishiya? He found it interesting.

Because you weren’t doing anything on purpose.

You weren’t trying to manipulate, to twist, to trap.

You just loved.

Freely. Easily. Without thinking.

Like an idiot.

Like someone who had never been hurt the way they had.

And that was the most fascinating part.

Because why the fuck would you love Niragi?

Why the fuck would you love either of them?

What the fuck was wrong with you?

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical.

And Chishiya hated things that didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop wondering. Couldn’t stop waiting to see what you’d do next.

How far your bleeding heart would go.

How deep you’d let yourself fall.

~

You sat curled up on the couch, staring at the door.

It was late.

Too late.

You were tired, your limbs heavy, eyes burning, but you waited.

Because Niragi hadn’t come back yet.

And you weren’t going to bed until he did.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside—empty streets, broken streetlights, a dead world that never really slept.

Neither did you.

Not when he was still out there.

And then—finally—the door swung open.

Your body jolted with relief before your mind could even catch up.

“Niragi.” you breathed, pushing up from the couch.

He was fine.

He looked fine, at least. A little scuffed up, maybe, but no blood, no injuries that you could see.

Still, you moved to him fast, your hands already reaching, already checking, already touching.

And fuck, he loved it.

Not that he’d ever fucking say it.

But he ate it up.

The way your hands skimmed over his arms, over his chest, down his sides, pressing gently, making sure nothing was wrong, nothing was broken.

Your fingers traced over his wrist, his knuckles—checking for cuts, for bruises.

Your hands were so soft.

So careful.

Like you actually gave a shit.

And Niragi just stood there, letting you do it.

Letting himself have this.

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t shove you away. Didn’t sneer at you or say some cruel thing to make you flinch.

Because he didn’t want you to flinch.

Didn’t want you to stop.

He wanted to stay in this moment, feeling your hands on him, feeling you worry for him, care for him.

It was fucking disgusting.

He should hate this. Should push you off, tell you to fuck off, to quit acting like you mattered.

But he couldn’t. He just stood there, soaking it in, letting you be sweet to him.

Letting you be you.

And knowing, deep down, that he’d never let anyone else touch him like this.

Though Niragi stiffened under your touch the second his eyes flicked up—and there Chishiya was. Standing at the entrance of the living room, leaned against the doorway, watching.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Niragi snapped, voice sharp, defensive.

Like a cornered animal baring its teeth.

But you barely even reacted. Didn’t even flinch. Just turned your head, eyes widening slightly, just noticing Chishiya standing there.

“Oh, hi.” you said simply. So soft. So sweet. Like always.

Then you turned right back to Niragi, resuming your gentle little check-up like Chishiya wasn’t even there.

And that—that made him take a real look at you.

At the way you touched Niragi like he was something fragile. At the way you worried for him, cared for him, without expecting anything back. At the way you gave him everything—your patience, your attention, your affection—so freely.

Chishiya didn’t like people.

Didn’t care for them.

Didn’t want them.

But he liked you.

Not in a deep way, not in some grand, meaningful sense.

Just in the simplest way.

He didn’t hate you.

Didn’t find you annoying.

Didn’t want to twist you apart just to see how you worked.

He just… liked you.

But what he found interesting—what he found worth noticing—was that this thing you had with Niragi…it had changed.

At first, you were just too good to Niragi.

Soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold, patient where he was volatile.

But now?

Now, you were too good for Niragi.

Chishiya saw it clear as day.

You were light. Niragi was rot. You were soft. Niragi was jagged edges and broken glass.

And yet—you still loved him.

Still touched him like he deserved it. Still waited for him to come home. Still gave and gave and gave, without ever asking for anything in return.

Chishiya wondered how long that would last.

Because Niragi would take.

Oh, he’d take everything from you.

Until there was nothing left.

At first, Chishiya assumed you were just like every other fool in this world—naïve, weak, desperate for companionship in a place that had long since burned away any need for softness.

But you weren’t weak. You weren’t desperate. You chose to be this way. Chose to care, chose to wait, chose to be the kind of person who would sit here, hours past a reasonable time, waiting for someone like Niragi.

And the worst part?

You were too good for him, too.

Chishiya wasn’t like Niragi. He wasn’t violent, wasn’t cruel just to be cruel, didn’t thrive off of making people squirm.

But he wasn’t kind either.

He wasn’t warm.

Didn’t care about anyone but himself.

That was the truth. That was the foundation of his survival.

So why was he still here? Why did he still let you talk to him, let you touch him, let you pull him in with that unbearable gentleness?

He had no reason to.

He didn’t need you.

And yet—here he was. Standing in the doorway. Watching you with Niragi. And it wasn’t Niragi he was paying attention to.

It was you.

Because you had changed something in him, too.

Not in a dramatic way, not in the way you probably hoped you changed Niragi, but something small, something subtle.

He wanted to stay.

And Chishiya didn’t stay for anyone.

But for some reason, he stayed for you. Just like he did when you sat in the tub.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was the way you never seemed afraid of him.

Maybe it was the way you made him feel like he didn’t have to be anything other than what he was—cold, distant, detached—and you’d still talk to him the same way, still look at him like he was worth talking to.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t even real care.

But it was something.

Something he wasn’t used to.

Something he found himself unwilling to let go of.

So he stayed.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Even though he knew you were too good for him.

He stayed anyway.

You exhaled slowly, still looking Niragi over, though he was clearly fine. He was covered in sweat, the scent of gunpowder still faint on his clothes, but he wasn’t hurt. No limp, no blood, no signs of any real struggle—he had made it through whatever game he played just fine. That didn’t stop you from fussing over him, brushing over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, making sure there weren’t any hidden wounds.

“You should shower.” you told him softly. “Then go to bed.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Not really. “I don’t fucking need you to tell me that.”

“I know.” you hummed, your voice still gentle. “Do you want me to make you something before you sleep?”

He stretched his arms behind his head, acting like he was thinking about it, but then shrugged. “Nah. I’m not hungry.”

You nodded, letting him go without a fight, watching as he stalked off toward his room. You heard the door close.

Finally, silence settled over the apartment again.

You sighed and sank onto the couch. It was only then that you noticed Chishiya was still there.

And not just standing.

He sat down next to you.

You blinked, a little surprised. He usually wasn’t the type to linger when he didn’t need to.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around.” you admitted, turning to him with a small, tired smile.

“You seem exhausted.” he commented, tilting his head slightly.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back. “I am exhausted.”

“You don’t have to wait up for him, you know.” Chishiya said simply. “He’s not a child. If he dies, he dies.”

You gave him a look. “You don’t actually care if Niragi lives or dies?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

Chishiya hummed, nonchalant. “I care about you.”

Your breath caught for a second.

It was a small thing. A tiny admittance.

But from Chishiya? That was practically a confession.

Still, he didn’t let you dwell on it for too long.

“I just think it’s a waste of your energy.” he continued, shifting his attention toward the ceiling, like this conversation was barely worth his focus. “You’re always giving.”

“I like giving.” you murmured.

“I know.” he said, glancing at you again.

Like he wanted to understand.

Like he couldn’t.

“Why?” he finally asked.

You frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why do you love so much?”

Your lips parted, taken aback by the wording.

Love?

You didn’t really think of it like that.

But Chishiya saw things most people didn’t.

And maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was love. Even if it was reckless. Even if it was stupid.

You sighed, stretching your legs out. “Because I know what it’s like to not get any in return.”

Chishiya was quiet. Not his usual, detached quiet. It was something heavier. Something thoughtful. Like, just for a second, he was looking at you and seeing something he recognized.

But instead of saying anything about it, he only hummed.

And the two of you sat there, in the dim light of the apartment, neither one of you moving.

It was comfortable.

It was simple.

It was good.

“You’re running yourself ragged.”

You tilted your head toward him, blinking slowly. “Hm?”

“You wait up for Niragi. You cook for us. You take care of everything without asking for anything back.” He glanced at you, unreadable as ever. “Why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“You told me why you love.” he said. “Not why you let yourself burn out over it.”

You exhaled through your nose, letting your hands drop to your lap. “I dunno. It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You let out a tired laugh. “It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything to that. He just looked at you. Like he could pick apart your brain if he wanted to, lay you bare—and you’d let him do that without him picking your brain apart, wink wink nudge nudge—and analyze all the little pieces. And maybe he could.

But instead, he only let out a quiet hum, leaning back into the couch, as if he had decided to leave it at that.

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head, exhausted. You had been running yourself into the ground, and now that Niragi was home safe and you were sitting down for more than five minutes, it was all starting to catch up with you.

Chishiya noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“You should sleep.”

You hummed in agreement, but you didn’t move. You were comfortable like this, the couch just soft enough, the apartment just warm enough.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be alone just yet.

You curled up slightly, resting your head against the back of the couch, letting your eyes slip shut. “Just a minute.”

Chishiya didn’t respond.

But he watched.

You were falling asleep.

Next to him.

You were comfortable next to him.

And that meant something.

Trust.

Something so small, so simple—so natural to you.

But to Chishiya? To Chishiya, trust wasn’t something that came easily. It wasn’t something that should be handed out without second thought.

And yet, you had given it to him so freely.

He stared at you, at the way your lashes fluttered slightly, at the way your breathing slowed, at the way your body settled like you belonged there.

Like he was safe.

And maybe he was.

Maybe, for once in his life, he actually was.

Even though Chishiya had never cared much for safety. Not in the way normal people did, at least. Self-preservation was a basic instinct, sure, but that wasn’t the same as wanting to live. Wanting to be safe. Wanting to keep going because life itself had meaning.

He didn’t see the world like that.

He played these games with the ease of someone who had nothing to lose. There was no desperation in him, no deepseated will to fight for his survival. He observed, he analyzed, he calculated. If he lived, he lived. If he died, he died. The only thing that interested him in this world was the people in it. Their psychology, their choices, the way they cracked under pressure or thrived in chaos. He didn’t want to find someone that fascinated him, but if he did, then maybe this whole thing would be worth watching for a little while longer.

You were interesting.

Not in the way most people were. Not in the way Aguni was, not in the way Mira was, not even in the way Niragi was, violent and cruel and unpredictable.

You were interesting because you weren’t like them.

You were the opposite.

Soft where the world had hardened. Gentle where life had been cruel. Giving where most had nothing left to offer.

It didn’t make sense.

You were too good for this place. Too good for Niragi, too good for him, too good for the entire twisted system of the Borderlands. And yet, here you were, offering yourself up like it wouldn’t get you killed.

Like it wouldn’t get you used.

Because that’s what he and Niragi were doing, wasn’t it?

Using you.

Chishiya was well aware of it. Niragi might not have been as conscious about it, but he was. You were valuable. You cooked, you cleaned, you took care of them. You were something warm and bright in the middle of a world that was nothing but death and brutality. You offered safety and comfort like it was nothing, like you didn’t even consider the weight of it, like you didn’t even care if people deserved it or not.

But Chishiya? Chishiya knew better than to believe in things like unconditional love.

He knew better than to believe in things like you.

And yet, here he was. Sitting next to you, watching the way you slept so easily beside him.

Because you trusted him.

Because you were comfortable with him.

That meant something, didn’t it?

It should have meant nothing to him. He should have written it off as just another one of your foolish little choices, another thing that made you weak. Trusting people was a liability in a place like this.

But there was a part of him, deep in the pit of his hollowed-out chest, that didn’t want to break it.

Didn’t want to lose it.

Which was ridiculous.

He didn’t like himself.

Didn’t want to like himself.

He was empty. Utterly empty. He had nothing to live for, nothing to die for. He played these games not because he wanted to survive, but because he wanted to watch, to see, to understand the twisted depths of humanity. And yet, somehow, he had ended up here.

With you.

You, with your too-soft voice and your too-gentle hands. You, who made Niragi lean into your touch instead of flinch away from it. You, who smiled so easily, like this world hadn’t already taken everything from you.

He didn’t understand you.

But he wanted to.

He hadn’t wanted anything in a long time.

And that was a problem. Because if he wanted something, that meant it could be taken away.

And if there was one thing Chishiya had learned in this world, it was that nothing lasted forever.

~

Waking up on the couch was an experience.

Not one you were used to, but not necessarily a bad one, either.

The cushion beneath you was slightly stiff, the air in the apartment cool against your skin. You blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft morning light that bled in through the windows, and slowly sat up.

You were alone.

At least, in this room.

That was okay.

You ran a hand through your hair, sighing softly as the memories of last night settled in your brain. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep out here, but you had. Right next to Chishiya, too.

That was… unexpected.

You didn’t remember him moving, didn’t remember him telling you to get up, didn’t remember anything past the slow lull of your conversation.

Had he stayed? Had he left the moment he realized you had drifted off? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were alone now, so you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way toward the kitchen. Your body felt slow, still heavy with sleep, but you ignored it. You pulled out a chair at the counter and sat down, elbows resting on the surface, mind already wandering.

Thinking.

Thinking a lot.

You had that problem sometimes.

Your thoughts never really stopped.

Even in the quiet of the morninng, they rattled around in your skull, picking apart the things you said, the things you did, the things they did.

Chishiya.

Niragi.

They were so different, yet somehow they were the same. They weren’t gentle, they weren’t kind, and yet… you stayed.

Why did you stay?

You had options.

Not many, but they existed.

You could have taken a room somewhere else in the Beach, you heard about that place. You could have joined another group. You could have attached yourself to someone softer, someone easier, someone who would give you something back instead of taking and taking and taking.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you were here.

With them.

Maybe it was because you saw something in them. Something fragile beneath all that cruelty.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that Niragi was a psychopath. You knew Chishiya was a sociopath. They weren’t good people. But maybe that was exactly why you wanted to be here.

Because someone had to love them.

Someone had to look at them and say, You deserve kindness.

Maybe it wasn’t true.

Maybe they didn’t deserve it.

But that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to give it.

Because you had spent your whole life giving.

And you never really got much back.

You sighed, rubbing at your face, trying to shake the weight of your thoughts. It was too early for this. Too early to sit here and psychoanalyze yourself. Too early to pick apart why you were so drawn to people who were incapable of loving you back.

You needed to move. Needed to do something.

So, you stood up. And you started making tea. The soft clink of the kettle settling onto the stove filled the quiet apartment.

But even that peace didn’t last long.

You heard the heavy drag of footsteps down the hall, sluggish. Then a loud, exaggerated yawn.

“Fucking hell.” Niragi grumbled as he entered the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his mess of hair, which wasn’t tied back now. “You’re loud.”

You hummed, unbothered. “Didn’t know making tea was a crime.”

He scoffed, walking past you to the fridge, digging around with barely opened eyes. “If it wakes me up, it is.”

You poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil, glancing at him. He looked like shit. Not in a particularly bad way—just in a Niragi in the morning way. His shirt was lopsided, one shoulder exposed, and his pants hung loose at his hips like he had barely bothered putting them on right.

“Want some?” you asked, tilting your head toward the tea.

He side-eyed you, face still slack with sleep. “Tea?”

“Mhm.”

“No.”

Didn’t expect any other answer. You nodded, turning back to the stove.

He pulled out a carton of something from the fridge, staring at it like it personally offended him. Then, he sighed. “What’s for breakfast?”

“You tell me.” you said simply, already knowing where this was going.

He shot you a glare. “You’re making it.”

“I’m making tea.”

He clicked his tongue. “You always make breakfast.”

“Then it’s your turn.” You turned to him, arching a brow. “Unless you can’t cook?”

He rolled his eyes so hard you thought he might see the back of his skull. “I can fucking cook.”

“Then there’s your answer.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Go wild.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like he was considering making a scene, picking a fight, shoving the responsibility back onto you. But then something in his brain seemed to shift.

Because if he did argue, that would make it seem like he couldn’t cook. That he needed you to do it. And his pride was too big for that.

So, without another word, he turned, grabbed a pan, and started making breakfast himself.

You smiled to yourself.

As much as Niragi loved to be a menace, there were ways to handle him. Push him in the right places, challenge him the right way, and he’d do whatever you wanted just to prove you wrong.

You went back to your tea, listening to the faint sounds of him moving around the kitchen. The clatter of a pan on the stove, the rustle of a bag, the soft sizzle of oil heating up. He wasn’t slamming things around, wasn’t throwing a fit about it.

Because Niragi could cook.

And he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.

You leaned against the counter, watching him move around the kitchen. He didn’t look like he particularly enjoyed cooking, but he knew what he was doing. The oil sizzled as he cracked an egg into the pan, not a single wasted motion, no hesitation.

“So,” you started, voice light.“what’re you making?”

“Food.”

You smiled. “No way. I thought you were making explosives.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but he didn’t look at you, too focused on flipping the egg.

You tilted your head. “I mean, you do know how to make those, right?”

Niragi grinned. “What, you want me to teach you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Could be fun.”

He turned to look at you then, eyebrow raised, like he was checking to see if you were joking. You weren’t. He snorted. “You’d fucking blow your hands off.”

“Wow. No faith in me at all?”

“Not when it comes to handling shit that explodes.” He went back to his cooking. “You can barely handle me.”

“Oh, but I do handle you.”

His hand hesitated over the pan for just a second before he picked up the spatula again. His grin didn’t falter, but you saw the way his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

Interesting.

“You’re getting bold.” he muttered.

You just smiled, pouring the hot water into your cup, letting the tea steep. “Maybe I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

Niragi scoffed, scraping at the pan a little harder than necessary. “Keep dreaming.”

But the thing was, you kind of were.

The fact that he wasn’t throwing a fit about cooking. The fact that he was talking to you this easily. The fact that—despite his bad attitude—he was still here, still listening, still responding.

He wasn’t used to someone like you. Someone who didn’t cower or get annoyed, who didn’t push him away or try to control him. Someone who just let him be—let him be an asshole, let him be himself, and still treated him like he was worth something.

You watched him for a moment, the way he moved, the way he functioned.

“How’d you learn to cook?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, “What, you think I was born knowing how to do this shit?”

“No.” you said patiently. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He made a low noise, like he was debating whether to answer at all. But then, after another moment, he muttered, “Had to.”

That was it. No elaboration, no explanation. Just had to.

Your fingers curled around your cup, warmth pressing into your palms.

People like Niragi—people who grew up like him—didn’t learn things like cooking because they wanted to. They learned because no one else would do it for them. Because there was no one else to care.

You just nodded, taking a slow sip of your tea. “Well, you’re good at it.”

He side-eyed you, as if suspicious of the compliment. “No shit.”

You just laughed. You took another slow sip of your tea, watching Niragi as he flipped the eggs onto a plate. Even in the smallest, most mundane actions, he was rough. Like he didn’t know how to be gentle, like he didn’t care if the eggs broke or if the pan got scratched. It was all just muscle memory, getting things done in the most efficient, thoughtless way possible.

But then again, why would he care?

You tilted your head slightly, chin resting in your palm as you looked up at him. And you really did have to look up at him. You were shorter, and with the way he stood—like he was always trying to take up as much space as possible, standing tall, broad, arms loose but ready—it made the height difference feel even bigger.

“Yesterday was a two, I’m playing again today.” he said, like that explained everything.

It didn’t.

“And?”

“And that’s not worth shit.” he scoffed, finally glancing at you. His expression was almost annoyed, like you were asking something painfully obvious. “I need something bigger.”

You frowned slightly, stirring your tea.

You didn’t understand. Not really. His visa wasn’t in danger yet, so why? Why throw himself into a game the very next day? What was the rush?

Before you could ask, a familiar voice came from the doorway.

“I’ll come.”

Both you and Niragi turned.

And there, standing just at the entrance of the hall, was Chishiya.

Again.

Niragi’s face immediately twisted into something incredulous. “Why the fuck are you always in doorways?”

Chishiya blinked at him, unimpressed as always. “They’re good vantage points.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Niragi stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if he was being fucked with. Then he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a little freak.”

Chishiya didn’t react.

You smiled a little, sipping your tea. “You’re going together?”

“I guess.” Niragi muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Chishiya hummed, stepping fully into the kitchen, leaning slightly against the counter. “Might be interesting.”

You knew what that meant.

Chishiya didn’t need to go. He wasn’t playing because of necessity, because of his visa. He was playing because he wanted to. Because he was looking for something to entertain him, something to stimulate that cold brain of his.

Just like Niragi.

You watched them both carefully, but neither of them looked at you. They weren’t friends, they weren’t allies. But they worked together when it suited them.

And somehow, despite their differences, it did suit them.

You set your cup down gently. “Be careful.”

Niragi smirked at you, grabbing a fork and stabbing into his food. “You worry too much.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything. But his gaze flickered to you, just for a second. If he really was going to a game today, he’d need to eat something. You already knew Niragi wouldn’t give a shit about that, so—

“Do you want something?” you asked, voice light, warm, just as naturally sweet as ever.

Chishiya glanced at you, then at Niragi, who was stabbing at his eggs with zero grace, chewing aggressively.

“I’m not making his fucking food.” Niragi stated, loud and clear, as if the mere thought of it was offensive.

You almost smiled, unsurprised. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“You would, though.” Niragi muttered through a mouthful of food, jabbing his fork toward you.

“I’ll take tea.” Chishiya said simply.

Niragi turned his head, brows raising. “That’s it?”

Chishiya just blinked at him. “I don’t need anything heavy before a game.”

You hummed, already moving to make it. “You say that, but you could still eat something small.”

“I could.” Chishiya said, not committing.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Do you want to?”

Chishiya just tilted his head slightly, considering.

And Niragi? Niragi scoffed, pushing his plate away slightly. “If you make him food, I’m not eating next to him.”

That made you sigh. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I don’t fucking like him.” Niragi shot back.

Chishiya, of course, was entirely unaffected.

You, however, just smiled, grabbing another cup to pour the tea. “You two live together, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to eat with him.” Niragi muttered, crossing his arms.

You didn’t argue further, setting Chishiya’s tea down in front of him, and looking at him expectantly. “So? Small bite of something, yes or no?”

Chishiya exhaled lightly, as if the entire conversation had exhausted him. Then, after a pause— “Fine.”

You beamed.

Niragi groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“You’ll live.” you told him sweetly.

Niragi grumbled under his breath, picking his fork back up and stabbing into his food like it had wronged him.

And Chishiya? Chishiya just watched you.

~

The day had passed in silence, for the most part. You had spent it in your room, away from them, letting them exist without you hovering, without your warmth pressing in on them when you knew—despite how much Niragi pulled for your touch and how much Chishiya lingered in your presence—they needed space. They weren’t used to people like you, weren’t used to someone always being there, always giving a fuck, and even though they tolerated it, you knew when to let them be.

So, you left them to it. Whatever they did, wherever they were, you didn’t ask. You didn’t go searching. You just curled up in your room, lying on your stomach, flipping through a book that you weren’t really reading. Your mind drifted to things you’d never say out loud, things you weren’t even sure why you thought about. You wondered if Niragi was still as angry as he always was when you weren’t in the room. If Chishiya, left to his own devices, ever let his mind wander to you the way yours wandered to him.

You wondered if either of them even needed you, or if you were just something warm and entertaining.

Still, you didn’t regret being you. You never did.

It was sometime in the late evening when you finally emerged, stretching out your stiff muscles as you walked into the living room. Niragi was there, sprawled out lazily in one of the chairs, flipping his knife over and over between his fingers. The one you gave him. His eyes flickered to you the second you stepped in, a habit of his now, like he had to acknowledge you every time you were near.

You didn’t think much of it.

“…Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” you asked, tilting your head.

Niragi huffed. “Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t move.

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you still here?”

He spun his knife a little faster, then caught it, flicking his eyes up at you. “I don’t wanna walk with him.”

Oh.

You blinked, then exhaled a soft laugh. “Really?”

Niragi scoffed, stretching his long legs out, slouching further into the chair. “He’s annoying.”

“You’re going to miss your game just because you don’t want to walk next to him?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, nudging his leg with your foot. “Come on.” you coaxed, voice gentle, light. “Don’t be a baby. Go.”

He gave you a look, like he found it funny when you pushed at him.

Then, before he could get another word out, you lifted your hand, pulling the black hair tie off your wrist and stepping behind him.

You gathered his hair, fingers threading through the strands, tying it up into that half-up style he always wore. It was second nature to you, the way you handled him, the way you touched him so easily, as if you weren’t touching someone who had probably never been handled like this in his life.

Niragi stiffened for a second, his usual instinct, but then—he let you.

You felt his shoulders relax under your hands, felt the way his head tilted slightly into your touch as you secured the tie, keeping his hair out of his face.

It wasn’t even a thought in your mind that this was something he should have done. It wasn’t something you even considered he might not want. Because Niragi wasn’t the type to say no to you when it came to touch, not anymore. And you? You weren’t the type to stop giving it.

“There.” you murmured, stepping back slightly, admiring your work.

Niragi tilted his head slightly, rolling his shoulders. “Mm. Not bad.”

You smiled, patting his shoulder lightly. “Now, go before you miss your game.”

He scoffed, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

Still, he didn’t move right away. And you caught it, the way he lingered, the way he let his fingers twitch against his thigh like he was debating something, like he wanted something.

You thought about it, then, about how easy it was for him to take when he wanted something, and yet, when it came to you, he waited. He didn’t demand it. Didn’t just grab at you.

He waited.

And that was all you needed to know.

So, with a little smile, you leaned down, pressing a warm hand against the side of his face, your fingers just barely brushing his ear. A simple touch, but a grounding one. A comfort, soft and unspoken.

“That should last you a while.” you hummed.

Niragi’s tongue flicked over his teeth, his eyes half-lidded as he rolled his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly into your touch.

You didn’t comment on it. Didn’t say a word.

And neither did he.

Then, just as easily, you pulled away, stepping back, gesturing toward the door. “Go. Win your game.”

Niragi exhaled, standing up with a stretch. “Fine, fine. I’m fucking going.”

You grinned. “Good.”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flashing through his eyes before he clicked his tongue and made his way toward the door.

You watched him go, your head tilting slightly.

~

The night was quiet, the streets even more so. The only sound was the distant faint echo of something far off in the city—maybe another game, maybe just the wind. The air smelled like blood and sweat, the remnants of the game they had just won, but neither of them seemed to care.

Niragi sat on the pavement, one knee propped up, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He took a slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling it through his nose. The embers burned red in the dark.

Next to him, Chishiya sat with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight ahead. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look affected—just there, as if he hadn’t just walked out of a game where death had been a very real possibility.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“…Didn’t think you’d actually come.” Niragi muttered, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

Chishiya hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I’m here.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah. Here you fucking are.” He took another drag, exhaled, then turned his head slightly toward Chishiya. “What, you wanted a front-row seat to me dying or something?”

Chishiya barely glanced at him. “I would’ve left if that was the case. Boring way to go.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh, bitter. “You really are a fucking asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t deny it.

Silence stretched again, the only movement coming from Niragi bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Then, after a moment, Chishiya shifted, resting his chin on his hand.

“You know,” he said, voice as flat as ever. “for someone who acts like he has nothing to lose, you sure do have something keeping you around now.”

Niragi’s eyes flickered to him, narrowing slightly. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Chishiya smirked, barely. “You know what it means.”

Niragi clicked his tongue, tapping his cigarette against the pavement. “Tch. You think just because she babies me, I give a fuck?”

Chishiya gave him a look, one of those slow, unimpressed ones, the kind that made it clear he didn’t buy a word coming out of Niragi’s mouth.

Niragi held his gaze for a moment, then scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t need her.” he muttered.

“No.” Chishiya agreed easily, shifting his gaze back toward the street. “But you want her.”

Niragi’s jaw twitched.

Chishiya wasn’t wrong, but fuck, did it piss him off to hear it out loud.

Another silence stretched, Niragi finishing his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the pavement. He pressed it out with the toe of his boot, watching the embers die out before exhaling a slow breath.

“…And what about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower, more serious.

Chishiya didn’t answer right away. He sat there, still, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was thinking. Then, finally, he said, “She’s interesting.”

Niragi scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Believe what you want.”

Niragi wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to it than that.

He also knew Chishiya well enough to know he wouldn’t say it.

Still, he had a feeling they were on the same page about one thing.

That girl—their girl—was different.

And no matter how much they tried to ignore it, she was changing things for both of them.

Niragi pushed himself up with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head. His joints cracked, his muscles ached, but he felt alive. Winning felt good, even if the game itself had been bullshit. The adrenaline had long since settled, replaced with exhaustion that he refused to acknowledge.

Chishiya stood up too, though with far less effort, far less noise. That was the thing about him—always so fucking quiet, like a ghost slipping through the cracks. He brushed some dust off his pants, then shoved his hands into his pockets, looking about as unbothered as ever.

Niragi rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head toward Chishiya with a smirk. “Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t even glance at him. “It was predictable.”

That pissed Niragi off, just a little. “Predictable?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t have lasted a fucking second if you had to play without me.”

Chishiya finally turned to face him, that same infuriating smirk on his lips. “And yet, I did.”

Niragi sneered, stepping even closer, looming. “Yeah? You wanna test that theory, little man?”

Chishiya didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He just let the words hang between them, let Niragi stand there with all his anger, all his frustration, and met it with nothing. That was the worst part about him—he didn’t fight back, not in the way Niragi wanted. He just existed, untouchable, always one step ahead, and fuck, was that irritating.

Finally, Niragi exhaled sharply through his nose, clicking his tongue. “Tch. Whatever.” He turned on his heel, shoving his hands in his pockets, starting down the street. “Let’s go.”

Chishiya followed, not because Niragi told him to, but because he was going back to the same place.

Back to you.

Neither of them said it, but both of them were thinking it.

It was late, their bodies ached, their minds were running on fumes, but they both wanted to go back to that apartment. It wasn’t home. It never would be. But you were there, and for some fucked-up reason, that was enough to keep them walking.

Niragi was the first to break the silence. “If she fucking cries or some shit when she sees me, I’m gonna kill her.”

Chishiya hummed. “No, you won’t.”

Niragi shot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

Chishiya just smirked. “She’s probably still awake.”

Niragi scoffed, but yeah. You probably were. Waiting, worrying, being the soft thing that you always were.

It annoyed him.

It also made him walk a little faster.

~

The moment the door cracked open, you were already moving.

It was late—too late. You had been sitting in the living room, hands curled around a cup of tea that had gone cold hours ago, waiting for them. When you heard the click of the lock, you shot up from your seat, setting the cup down with barely a thought.

And there they were. Niragi first, stepping inside with that cocky grin, and Chishiya just behind him, calm.

They were fine. At least, that’s what it looked like.

But that wasn’t enough for you.

You hurried over, your hands already reaching for Niragi before he could say a word. You grabbed his arm, checking for cuts, bruises, anything. His shirt was open, a little disheveled, and your hands smoothed over the fabric, searching.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice soft, full of worry.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” But he didn’t push you away.

You ignored him, moving to check his hands next, turning them over in yours. His knuckles were a little red—maybe from gripping his gun too hard, maybe from something else—but no real damage. That was good.

Then, you looked up at his face. His eyes were dark, tired. He smelled like gunpowder and sweat, and there was a hint of something metallic—blood, but not his.

You sighed. “You scared me.”

“Tch.” He pulled his hands away, stuffing them into his pockets. “I didn’t ask you to wait up.”

“I know.” You looked at him, really looked at him. And there it was—the smallest flicker of something, something beneath the sharp words and the smug expression. He liked that you waited. He liked that you worried. He just didn’t know how to deal with it.

You smiled at him anyway. Then, you turned to Chishiya.

He was watching you. Of course he was.

He always watched.

You stepped closer, and unlike Niragi, he didn’t move away. You reached for his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist. “You?”

“I’m fine.” Chishiya said simply, but he didn’t pull away.

You checked anyway. Your hands ghosted over his arms, his shoulders, even though he showed no signs of injury. He let you, let you fuss over him, let you touch him, and the fact that he didn’t stop you told you more than words ever could.

“You’re both okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything. You finally exhaled, some of the tension melting from your body.

There was silence for a moment.

Then Niragi scoffed, shifting his weight. “Are you done playing nurse or whatever?”

You looked back at him. “I could make something for you before you sleep.”

Niragi snorted. “I’m going to bed.” But the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long told you he liked the offer.

You didn’t push. You just nodded, watching as he walked off toward his room, muttering under his breath.

That left you and Chishiya in the quiet.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “And you?”

“Not hungry.”

You smiled anyway. “Alright.”

And just like that, it was over. They were home, they were safe, and you could breathe again.

For now.

You reached out, fingers just barely brushing against his sleeve again, a soft touch. Chishiya looked down at it, then back at you. His expression didn’t change—still unreadable, still detached—but he didn’t move away.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.” you murmured. Your voice was warm, affectionate, like honey poured over an open wound. It didn’t ask. It didn’t demand. It simply was.

Chishiya should have scoffed at that. Should have rolled his eyes. Should have thrown something back at you, maybe something condescending, maybe something cruel, the way he did with everyone else.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just stared at you, silent, weighing something in that brilliant, calculated mind of his. He was trying to figure you out again, picking apart your words, your tone, your kindness. Because people like you—soft, good, endlessly patient—were people he was supposed to hate.

And yet.

He shifted, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his posture as lazy as ever. “Hm.” he hummed, something noncommittal. And then, he turned and walked off, heading toward his room without another word.

You watched him go, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Chishiya should hate you. He really, really should. You were everything he despised—overly trusting, endlessly warm, a person who believed in people even when they had given you every reason not to. He hated people like that.

Because they were stupid. Because they were naive.

Because they got hurt.

Because he couldn’t be that.

But you weren’t stupid. You weren’t naive. You knew the kind of people you had let into your home. You knew what Niragi was, what he was. You knew, and yet you still loved them.

That should have disgusted him.

Instead, he found himself listening to the quiet sound of your breathing as he walked away. Instead, he found himself thinking about how you didn’t even flinch when Niragi got mean, how you didn’t snap at Chishiya for his words, how you just existed between them—sweet, steady, unshaken.

Instead, he found himself doing exactly what you said.

Going to bed, sweetheart.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mochii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[gay-dorito-dust]

I don’t know if you have this but please can i request headcandons of the spiderverse Boys with their lover reader wearing their (spider boys) clothing like a hoodie or a t shirt?

Miles thought he had stopped breathing when he saw you wear the jacket he has been searching high and low for the past fifteen minutes.

He had been wanting to see you in his clothes but the poor boy didn’t know how to say it without tripping and stumbling awkwardly over his words like a new born baby deer.

‘Hey, have you seen my jacket-‘ his words faltered and then later died on his lips when he raised his eyes as he entered his room, only to see you wearing the very jacket he had been searching high and low for. ‘You’re wearing it.’ His voice cracked and out of embarrassment Miles cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You’re- You’re wearing it.’

You smiled at him, finding his attempts in keeping his cool amusing, especially when it was doing something small like wearing his clothes but you couldn’t help yourself! The jacket was still somewhat warm from previous use and smelt like him, which brought you comfort for the days where he couldn’t always be with you as it felt as though you had a part of him always with you. Though it doesn’t compare to actually having Miles with you, it still brought you a sense of relief and security that you always get when with the young lad.

‘Did you want it back?’ You asked, about to take it off when Miles exclaimed ‘no!’ Making you both jump with how loud it came out but made you both laugh none the less. ‘I mean, no, keep it on as long as you want. You look great in it.’ Miles admits, running the back of his neck, highly aware of the heat radiating within of every part of his body, from the tips of his ears to his chest and even to his feet, as though it was going to burn him from the inside out.

‘Just great?’ You teased, brows raised.

‘Did I say great? I meant you look beautiful, handsome, pretty, beautiful, cosy, comfy.’ Miles rambled and you knew you had to intervene before he hurts himself, which lead you to walk towards him and hold his face in your hands, internally melting when his beautiful doe brown eyes looked into yours as though they’re the only thing grounding him right now. ‘Relax, I’m only teasing babe.’ You reassured him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as means of calming him down. ‘Now are you comfortable with me wearing your stuff because I can stop if you want.’

Just when you were about to pulls your hands away from his face so you could remove and hand back his jacket, Miles placed his hands over yours, keeping them glued to his face as he looked at you adoringly. ‘It doesn’t bother me at all.’ He tells you. ‘In fact it makes me really happy just seeing you in my stuff,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘I swear it feels as though I’m still dreaming sometimes.’ He finishes.

Miles loves it when you wear his clothes as it means that even when you were apart, you’re thinking about him, always and wishing for his safe return. He feels loved, extremely loved.

Pavitr’s day is immediately made a thousand times better when he notices that you’ve been wearing his clothes. He fucking adores it so much to the point that he’s already making plans on just letting you use his wardrobe at your disposal.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad day because seeing you in his clothes even on days where he’s mentally, emotionally and physically okay, he’s automatically made even more chipper and happy to the point he will not shut up about his rant on how cute and adorable you look in his shirt.

He’s talking about a mile a minute that you were starting to get concerned when you saw he wasn’t stopping for breath. When he does remember to breath, you were able to realise the breath that you didn’t know that you had been withholding yourself.

Probably has a multitude of pictures of you wearing his clothes and might’ve made one his lock/Home Screen or maybe both, so that when he was doing his spider-man stuff, he’d be reminded that you were waiting for you Pav to come back safe and sound.

He will shamelessly scream it from the rooftops that you were wearing his clothes and say loud enough for all those within the radius to hear. He’s not ashamed in the slightest and will brag about it until he can’t no more. His friends, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Margo were often subjected to these bragging sessions more so then anyone else.

To the point where Hobie and Miles dog pile him in getting him to shut up about you wearing his clothes for a second. Yes they get it, it’s really cut that your wearing his clothes and how when you return them to him they smell like you’ve never left.

They get it, Pavitr is an absolute sucker for you in his shirts and whilst they found it cute themselves, pav didn’t need to get all dramatic with his long winded speech about how his clothes on you looked as though they were tailored to fit you like the did him, nor how he believes that was a sign for him that you two were meant to be together forever.

Overall Pavitr gets overwhelmingly affectionate when you wear his stuff to the point where your being smothered alive by his constrictive hugs and flurries of kisses raining down on your face. He loves, loves, loves seeing you in his clothes. It makes him happier then he’s ever been.

Hobie is the definition of ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.’

So let’s say you find his vest with the pins spanning across the lapels and the spikes that traversed across the shoulders, draped over the door and decided to wear it for a while until Hobie notices it’s absence.

Jokes on you though because Hobie never left anything of his without it being purely intentional and Hobie left his vest over at yours with the intention that you’d pick it up and wear it out of your own fruition, rather then having him telling you to wear it.

Outwardly his reaction upon seeing you wearing his vest is relatively neutral but that’s only to those on the outside but you could see the smile etching it’s way across his face along with the mischievous, all knowing glint within his eyes that told you all that you had willingly fallen right into his trap, just as he expected.

You’ve been had but you couldn’t be mad because it meant that Hobie had this in mind for a while and played the waiting game to execute his little plan. He wanted to see you in his clothes that he was willing to leave his beloved vest in your hands.

Hobie isn’t territorial but just seeing you in his clothes makes him feel all sorts of things but he just chalks it down to being a spider attribute he got from the bite and nothing else.

All this cheeky fuck would say to seeing you in his vest is; ‘guess I was right, it suits you.’ Which might as well have been his way of telling you that you were more then welcome to steal his clothes but just don’t be surprised when you start seeing some of your own stuff disappearing now and then.

Can’t find your crop top?

Hobie’s wearing it the next time you see him.

Needless to say Hobie loves it when you wear his stuff, so he’s going to do the exact same but with your clothes because he loves the expressions he gets when you ultimately realises who had been stealing your clothes for the past few days.

Miguel may act cool, calm and collected with a smidge of feral his heart isn’t immune from melting at the sight of you wearing his clothing.

It doesn’t even matter how long you’ve been doing it as it always made this secret softy feel as though it was the first time all over again.

Miguel is so occupied with his work to unhealthy extent that he doesn’t realise your wearing one of his shirts, and even when he does; it takes him a minute due to the lack of sleep affecting his ability to comprehend his reality before he’s doing a double take upon realising that yes, that was his shirt your wearing.

It’s cute watching his eyes nearly pop out of his head upon realisation.

‘Is that my shirt?’ He’d ask, although already knowing the answer. He’s not against it, he’s just surprised that you’d even want to wear anything of his. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such a gesture but it touches his heart nonetheless.

‘I missed you.’ You replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. ‘You’re so busy with work that I don’t often get alone time with you anymore. So whenever your away and I’m missing you, I go through your closet and pick a shirt out, and wear it for the rest of the day because it makes me feel as though your here with me.’ You finished with a shrug.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel his heart hurt upon your admittance of missing him. He knows how often he prioritises his work that he was completely blindsided by how it affect you, so much so to the extent that you sought out comfort from his clothes because he was nowhere to be found.

‘You look at home in my clothes.’ He tells you as he decided then and there to cut out some time of his day just for you and be there for you like a lover should be. ‘And I’m sorry that I haven’t been here as much as I should but I promise that’ll change.’ Miguel practically pleads to you as he holds you against his muscular chest, his hands rubbing your back, secretly loving how his shirt looked on you more so then anything.

Seeing you wear his clothes became Miguel’s favourite sight to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He takes pride out of it but the reasoning behind it will always make him upset at himself at his failings of being a partner.

It’s something he’s improved on ever since and you couldn’t help but get giddy when you felt him walk up behind you in the mornings, burying his head into your neck, greeting it with kisses, as his arms enclose on your waist, speaking to you in his low raspy morning voice about how beautiful/ handsome/cute/pretty/stunning you looked to the point where you wanted nothing then to bury yourself into his chest so he couldn’t see the dopey, lovesick smile beaming across your face.

Miguel isn’t immune to seeing you wearing his clothes and he never will be because it’s a declaration of love in its own unique way.

Peter B would find you wearing his clothes unbearably adorable.

He just wanted to squeeze you tightly but knew that probably wasn’t the smartest idea considering with his strength but that never stopped him from taking photos of you doing mundane things in his shirt or sweatpants that you had to tie up by the drawstrings.

Peter has taken too many pictures that he might as well have dedicated an entire album to you wearing his sweats, shirts or even his pink bathrobe and doing mundane things such as making breakfast, watching your favourite shows on tv, playing with Mayday and the like.

So don’t be surprised when he starts showing anyone that would listen over at the spider society pictures of his lover looking absolutely gorgeous/handsome/pretty/beautiful/adorable in his clothes 24/7. Miguel especially but Jess, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie and Margo were also some that got pestered by Peter.

Peter B is also very vocal and would smother you praise of how good you look in his clothes because what he says is 100% genuine.

For example;

‘Look at you! You look amazing!’

‘You’re so cute in my clothes, please don’t stop wearing them.’

‘How could my lover look even better when they’re wearing my clothes. It shouldn’t be possible but here you are, proving me wrong.’

This corny bastard would teasingly call you a mini version of him since you want to wear his stuff so badly.

You’ve defiantly caught him admiring you from afar when you wear his clothes. His eyes are soft and half lidded as he rests his face against his hand, he wasn’t aware that he was leaning so much to the point that before long he was on the floor. It’s so cartoonish and goofy but it’s just so Peter that you can’t help but let out a little chuckle before going over to help your lover off of the floor.

[rubra-wav]

Hii! Can I get lil sceanarios/oneshots of Vox, Husk, and Lucifer (if you write for him) where they are ranting about something thats bothering them to their crush, so they kiss him to shut them up?

I just love the thought of them being completely caught off guard and all blushy 😚😚

Thanks!

Vox, Husk and Lucifer x crush!reader shutting them up with a kiss

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, fluff

Vox

- After another public spat with Alastor (albeit, a lot less explosive then last time) Vox sits next to you bitching his head off about it, occasionally glitching and sparking as he emphasises words.

- "I can't believe that old asshole has the audacity to come after my design choices. Mine. I mean, can you believe that! They look great- right (name)?" He doesn't wait for you to respond to his question, just cuts you off as you nod and open your mouth to speak going on with his rant.

- "Exactly! My shit is perfect. It's top of the line. I wish he'd just fuck off to whatever crevice he crawled out of!"

- You inwardly sigh watching him carry on. As much as you loved to just stare at him as he animatedly talked loudly both with his voice and also his hands, it was beginning to get somewhat annoying listening to him repeat the same things over and over again while occasionally seeking reassurance from you.

- You smile slightly, looking at his lips moving as he spoke.

- You'd seen him drink and eat stuff, but how exactly did they work? If you kissed him, would it just be screen? Would he be able to feel it?

- He continued to ramble on, not noticing you had peaced out mentally about 3 minutes ago.

- Not noticing you moving your face closer to him from the corner of his eye.

- "When I get my hands on him, I'm going to beat the shit out of him! Right (name), I'd totally win, wouldn't I-" he turns to you as he asks, and suddenly he's feeling warm lips pressed against his screen over where his mouth is displayed.

- A loud binging sound is heard as Vox momentarily errors at the sudden gesture.

- You pull your lips off of him, and look at him with raised brows. "Could you feel that? All I felt was warm glass." You asked as you watched his monitor glitch and then switch back to his usual face dumbly blinking, blue flush covering his cheeks.

- As Vox gained his bearings, he glared at you. "H-hey!" He cringed at his stutter before clearing his throat. "You can't just do that out of nowhere, Doll! The fuck?"

- Vox would be pissed off and flustered you'd tried to quiet him by kissing him out of nowhere. Who the hell do you think you are essentially telling him to shut up??

- The smaller voice being squashed was yelling about how it liked the feeling of your lips on him and wanted more, though.

Husk

- The Bartender rarely got to be the one to rant about his issues, so when you showed up as someone he trusted and loved, he took the chance to complain to his heart's content.

- "And that idiotic daddy issue having child has been forcing me to play along with her delusions. I can't just say fuck off as usual because Alastor is ordering me to partake in it for his own sick fucking enjoyment!" Husk growled before taking a long sip of his drink.

- "The sooner I can get out of that shithole, the better. I can't wait for Alastor to get bored of it, I am going crazy having to participate in 'trust exercises' and 'bonding activities'" Husk emphasised each example with mock sweetness, clearly disgusted by it.

- You snorted. "What, has she been making you make arts and crafts or something?" You joked, but then grew silent when he sourly nodded.

- "Yes. She made us do hand painting like some fucking kindergarten class. There's still yellow paint stuck in my fur from where Niffty rolled in it and jumped onto me!" He turned around to show you his back, and sure enough, yellow paint clung to his fur.

- Husk went on complaining about 3 in 1 and how it wouldn't do shit for it, and that's when an impulse took over you suddenly as you watched his fuzzy cheeks move.

- Husk abruptly stopped as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek, instead catching his mouth by accident as he unconsciously turned towards you.

- It only lasts a second as you realise your error, apologising profusely. "Sorry! I meant to get your cheek!"

- Husk stutters in surprise, unable to get out any words for a long while, before coughing and turning away, unable to meet your eyes.

- He brings a hand to touch his lips, flushing darkly under his fur at the memory of your lips on his, the scent of the sweet cocktail he'd made you on your breath as it happened had him feeling dizzy.

- Christ.

- He interrupts you from where you were apologising profusely, kissing you again.

- Liquid courage tells him not to let this opportunity pass, so he doesn't.

Lucifer

- He was very down on himself about a rather failed day out with his daughter.

- The impression that he was happy and okay had fallen to bits the second he discussed how he'd tried to take Charlie to Loo Loo World only for paparazzi to storm him and lead to a series of unfortunate events ending with Charlie covered in an overly sweet drink and popcorn and having to leave.

- "And then she looked so awkward and uncomfortable when she said goodbye! My daughter hates me!" He exclaimed, burying his face in his hands.

- You shook your head, patting his shoulder and trying to tell him that wasn't true.

- "I'm the world's worst father. I caused all of hell to exist, and for someone like you to get condemned to this horrible place, and after all these mistakes, I still can't do anything right." He looked up at you, dejected, tears in his eyes.

- Your heart hurts seeing it. You just want him to stop talking about himself in such a way.

- So you do the only thing you can properly think of on the spot.

- "I'm just a failur-hff!" he hums loudly in surprise as his face is gripped, and suddenly your lips are on his.

- As he comprehends what's happening, tears well up in his eyes alongside his now pounding heart as years of him not being touched like this weigh on him all at once. It felt wonderful to be held and kissed by someone - let alone you.

- You pull away after a short time, hands gently brushing across his now even more overly warm cheeks.

- "Don't say that about yourself. You aren't a failure, Luci." You softly say. "Tell Charlie you're sorry and arrange a more private activity with her. She's your daughter, she will forgive you." Lucifer slowly nods against your hands.

- He doesn't say anything, mouth slightly parted as he looks at you with wide, lovesick eyes as his mind races alongside his heart. You're so warm.

- His hands come to rest atop your's, keeping them against his cheeks as his eyes flutter shut, basking in your touch.

- "Please just let us stay like this for a little longer." He breathily whispers. His face crumples as you nod and invite him to come closer into your arms.

- The king of hell slumps against you, craving but still hesitant to further request your touch.

Masterlist

[cindersnows]

the problem with mitsi (or as i like to call it. mitsogyny)

(context: this was written under a youtube video, which i'm sure most of us have at least seen pop up in our recommendeds, in response to many people taking criticism against the new episode. it has been edited a little to be more cohesive as a somewhat-essay)

ok, i wanted to write out a rant/essay/ramble/whatever sort of summarising the criticism against mitsi's plotline because a lot of the people here seem to be misunderstanding the fundamental issue that people have with it, including some of those people themselves.

first off, an analysis that i think tell both sides of the argument very well which i feel should be read before reading the essay: Mitsi: What Makes A Fridged Character (and why y'all are wrong about it) | an AvA essay by InksandPensblog. i will note: i don't care to discuss whether mitsi was fridged or not and that won't be of much importance in this post. the above link gives some insight into some of the fandom's criticism of mitsi and how she was "fridged", defining common tropes for examples. that's what's relevant to this post.

the main issue with mitsi, in my opinion, is less with the fact that mitsi's a girl and moreso the fact that she's one of the only female-coded character in the series, and that her character's main purpose was to further victim's own development. the other arguably female-coded character in the series is pink, who (like navy) only really exists to explain purple's motivations. i don't have much of an issue with that since they're not meant to be important or sympathised with at all. that's not their job in the story.

with mitsi, i've seen people point out that she has more character to her than just victim's love interest and supporter: she invents rocketcorp, she's smart, she's kind, innocent and helpful. narratively speaking, she shows other creations' relationships with their animators, parallels her innocence with victim's trauma, and introduces victim to the outernet (as most fans call the stick realm).

but most of this things imo are either stretches or invalid arguments. she's not really a 2/3-dimensional character in any way; her main character traits boil down to the fact that she likes to be in service of others with no nuance behind why she likes helping people. she hypes up victim for the villagers, she starts a company with him to share his talents with the world, and she helps him overcome his trauma from alan's torture. all of her main plot beats center around victim: and while technically the sticks are genderless and free to be interpreted however the viewer wants, alan and most of his team see all the main characters as male, and that subconciously affects how they're written. mitsi, the first major female-coded character, spends most of her storyline in service of victim, a character not written as female.

there's also the issue of her being victim's canonical love interest. i feel like this statement from alan is important to keep in mind (don't mind the sound effects and edits, this is the only isolated clip i can find at the moment). in particular:

"i just assume that [the ava/m characters] are just a bunch of bros]. i haven't thought of adding any female stick figures but i think it'd be good. i don't want to introduce any romance though, i don't want that to be a theme."

he seems to have changed his mind on that last part, which is fine, but the notable part for me is that he seems to associate female characters with romance from the getgo. before anyone misinterprets this, i'm not trying to call alan sexist or anything. but there's a common issue with women in stories being reduced to just a romantic partner for the male lead, and mitsi falls under this, with her entire character existing to serve victim. (not to mention people will make things about romance whether you like it or not. that's just basic fandom. search up grapeduo or chodark.) even her death is to put victim on the path of vengeance--- it doesn't need to happen to show the extent of tco and tdl's destruction, because that's already made pretty clear in ava s2 the flashback and the earlier scenes showing various characters escaping burning buildings. when you write a female-coded character whose only purpose is to serve a male character, you're contributing to sexist narratives.

a counter i see many people point out with the idea that she has no character is that she does have character traits, it's just that they're generic ones like "kind" and "innocent". the issue is that she has no flaws to counterpoint this; it's not that she didn't have enough screentime. in ava4 for example, we see tsc's flaws pretty clearly; they can be very mean when they want to, they're petty (albeit for a fair reason), they're a little impulsive. this is shown in 11 minutes (from the moment they come alive to the end of the video).

with mitsi meanwhile… she doesn't seem to have any flaws? she helps victim whenever she can. she's nice to all the villagers. her customers all like her and she's a great leader at rocket corp (to note, specifically as part of a pair with victim. they're a power couple, she's barely given credit for her work alone). she has 13 minutes of screentime, or 10 if you count from her waking up in the outernet. there's plenty of opportunities to show her having flaws; maybe she acts a little selfish during tdl and tco's attack, only wanting to help herself and agent smith, or maybe she overworks herself, or feels awkward at having too much attention (and that could also be why she redirects so much attention to victim, she's shy). you could argue that the episode needs to develop victim and agent smith too, but ava4 shows that's easy to do too: just a few seconds dedicated to showing rgyb fighting over who leaves first shows that they can be selfish and childish. it's very easy to insert a moment like that for mitsi.

it's a little disappointing when the first major female-coded character in ava is completely flawless, with no personality outside of being nice and helpful for others.

also, slightly unrelated, check out this quote from mitsi's plushie website: "her white featureless face seems to ooze mystery and feminine power all at the same time." her main character trait, as a woman, is being feminine. it's irritating as someone who's been raised a woman to see her reduced to just her gender. she feels more plastic than a person, like the concept of what a woman should be (perfect, kind, useful) and not an actual character/person.

i would expect more from the writing in the series seeing as it's not just an independent passion project anymore, and has multiple writers that all could've worked to flesh out mitsi, or at least get a sensitivity reader of sorts to point these issues out. it's extremely disappointing and i can understand why people were upset.

tldr: the problem isn't just that mitsi's a girl, or that she's nice or dating victim, it's that she's written in a misogynistic way.