#*taps forehead* i can be annoying about anything

[hypogryffin]

shoutout to that one day i got actually genuinely angry that p5's seven sisters costumes dont change the ribbon colour by year

[meeraonpole]

You Should’ve Told Me

Summery:Reader as not been feeling well for a week and Lando now finds out.

The low hum of the car engine filled the quiet space between you and Lando as he drove down the winding road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting absentmindedly on your thigh. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of orange and pink as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over everything in sight.

You had spent the afternoon together—just the two of you—driving around, grabbing snacks, and listening to music. It was the kind of simple, peaceful day you both cherished when he wasn’t off racing around the world.

Lando had his sunglasses perched on his nose, one elbow resting on the open window as the wind tousled his curls. He looked effortlessly good, like he always did, completely at ease in the driver’s seat. His fingers tapped against your leg in time with the song playing on the radio.

Then, you decided to ask.

“Hey, Lando?”

He hummed in response, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Can you take me to the doctor tomorrow?”

The second the words left your mouth, you felt his hand tense slightly against your thigh. His fingers stilled, no longer drumming to the beat. His expression shifted—subtle, but you caught it.

Lando never liked when something was wrong and he didn’t know about it.

He straightened up in his seat a little. “Wait, what? Why?”

You shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “I’ve just been feeling kinda dizzy lately. Thought I should get it checked out.”

His jaw tightened as he processed what you’d just said. “Dizzy?” He repeated, his voice a little sharper now. “Since when?”

You hesitated. ���Uh… like a week?”

His foot lifted off the gas pedal slightly, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “A week?” he echoed, glancing at you in disbelief before looking back at the road. “Y/N, why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You sighed, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s not like I’m passing out or anything. Just… you know, lightheaded sometimes.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. “Not a big deal?” His voice was softer now, but there was frustration laced within his words. “You’ve been feeling like this for a week, and I’m only hearing about it now?”

You reached over and squeezed his arm gently. “Lan, I’m fine. I just wanna be sure, that’s all.”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly still annoyed, but he covered your hand with his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, well, we’re going first thing in the morning,” he muttered, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You smiled at his protectiveness, leaning your head back against the seat. “Thank you.”

Lando sighed again, running a hand through his curls as he pulled into your driveway. Once he parked, he turned toward you, his blue-green eyes scanning your face as if searching for any sign that you were worse off than you were letting on.

“You’re really okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I promise.”

He studied you for another moment before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You’re so annoying,” he murmured, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You laughed. “How?”

“Because you make me worry,” he muttered against your skin. “And I don’t like worrying about you even though i always do but now you make me worry even more.”

Your heart melted as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes.

“Well, now you know how I feel every race weekend,” you teased.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at his lips. “Touché.”

He reached for you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. You sighed contentedly, letting yourself melt into his embrace.

“I’ll take care of you, okay?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You just have to tell me when you’re not feeling good.”

You nodded against his chest. “Okay.”

He kissed your hair again before pulling back with a cheeky grin. “And if the doctor says you just need to eat more snacks, I’m never letting you live it down.”

You groaned, swatting at his chest. “Shut up.”

Lando just laughed, pulling you closer once more. And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you knew that no matter what, he would always be there for you.

[bunni-v1]

Eating up your Harumasa content about him and cockwarming, May I request more of that pls🙏🏻Maybe some (consensual) somno as well👉🏻👈🏻

🍓I kept this in the drafts until baby girl came out! Happy Haru release day my loves <3 I hope you all enjoy him as much as I do!!! I fleshed out the original post into a full piece, so I hope you don't mind too much my love. Didn't do the somno unfortunately, just couldn't fit it in naturally.

Minors DNI!!

TW: NSFW; Grammar errors; Written pre-story quest so inaccuracies are bound to appear <3

Info: Harumasa x Reader; Fem bodied reader; They/them pronouns/ you/yours

Harumasa had a long day. You can hear it from the kitchen, the way his feet drag against the floor and the grunts he lets out as he fights off his shoes. You hear him cuss them out after they thump against the hardwood of your shared entrance. Then his feet drag their way all the way to you, finally slumping over your shoulder with the most relieved sigh.

The way he acts, it seems like he just came back from an unending war. That wasn't the case, of course, it was more likely that Yanagi asked him to do his portion of paperwork and he just didn't want to do it. (Then he would proceed to do not only his but also finish Yanagi's and Miyabi's if he saw fit.) His arms wrap around your waist, and he hums happily. It's cute enough that you set down the knife you were using to run your fingers through his pretty silky black hair, turning and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Hello, my love," you coo, "How was work."

It takes him a moment to respond as if he was soaking in the words fully before yellow eyes peered up at you, "Mmm, long... and hard."

You're too late to catch the innuendo, and his hands have already slid up from your stomach to give your chest a squeeze. Simultaneously, he pulls you back into him, and you feel that he is in fact long and hard. It draws a gasp from your lips, which satisfies him into sighing against your skin.

"Harumasa," you deadpan, pulling at his hands which won't budge for anything, as always.

He doesn't humor you with a response, pressing heated kisses up and down your neck. It's a tactic he loves to use, buttering you up just so he can get what he wants. It was infuriatingly effective. Still, you were in the middle of making dinner for him. Certainly, he could let you finish doing that.

You manage to push his head away from your neck, which has him whining like a child, but you don't relent and he finally pulls back enough so you can look at him. "We need to eat, Haru."

"I was getting to it," he quips back, smirking that annoyingly cute smirk.

"We need to eat food," You insist, gesturing to the half-made meal on the countertop.

He pouts at it like it was personally offending him just by existing. Then you see him go over the ingredients, and his face lights up just a little. You were making his favorite, figuring it would be a nice treat after a long week at work. Spoiling him was one of your favorite pastimes, after all.

Conflict arises in his pretty yellow eyes, and you watch him debate whether he'd prefer eating you out or eating your homemade cooking more. He comes to his decision by pulling away from you, a deceptively innocent smile on his face.

"Alright, I'll let you finish up," he hums, leaning against the countertop next to you.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him, "But...?"

"Mmm," he taps his chin, feigning consideration and you already know what he's going to ask, "You have to cockwarm me while we watch a movie!"

Of course. It was his favorite thing in the world, especially after a long workday and a good meal. Most weeks ended like this, but it didn't bother you too much. It wasn't a bad deal for you, as annoying as he was about it.

You don't give him a direct answer, simply sighing and turning back to working on the food, "What movie did you have in mind...?"

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Dinner isn't as relaxed as you wanted, not with Harumasa practically squirming in excitement across from you. You do your best to pretend it's not happening, eating the food you prepared and mentally preparing yourself for the night you have ahead of you. He practically bounds to the living room when you finish, and you know once you finish cleaning up he won't have the patience to wait any longer.

It was childish, but you couldn't help but find it cute. He rarely allowed himself to be this carefree, so indulging him was the least you could do. So you set the last of the dishes in the sink and make your way to the living room, sighing at the sight of him already palming his hard-on through his work pants.

When he notices you there he gives you a lopsided grin, patting his thigh with his free hand. He works his belt and pants open, and it gives you the idea that maybe you should mess around with him too. It was supposed to be fun for both of you after all, right?

He pouts at you when you don't immediately swing your legs over his lap like an obedient dog, jerking his neglected member in his hands a few times for emphasis. You snort at the sight, patting his thigh reassuringly before turning around to face the TV. You hear him let out an annoyed grunt that catches in his throat when you slowly slide your pants over your hips, around the fat of your ass, and finally down the meat of your thighs until it hits the floor.

He grabs at one of the cheeks, humming appreciatively to himself as the digits sink into the fat, "Maybe we should cut the movie altogether..."

You tut at him, swatting his hands away to give him the same show with your underwear. He inhales deeply at the sight of your glistening pussy, exactly the reaction you wanted. With a playful smirk, you turn and slide your legs on either side of him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"You're being a brat~" He sings in your ear, lining himself up with your entrance.

You pout innocently, "You didn't like the show?"

He doesn't humor you with an answer, instead guiding your hips down until you are fully seated on his dick. It stung a little not being properly prepped, but you had all the time in the world to adjust. Harumasa loved taking his time with things like these, after all.

He leans over to grab the remote to the DVD player and starts the movie. It's some stupid family film from over a decade ago about mutant rodents saving the world or something like that. You were never too interested in stuff like that, but Harumasa always brought those kinds of films home for cockwarming. Why, you had no clue, but they were delightful distractions.

The beginning is always the easiest for you. It's all nice and pleasant as you adjust to the stretch. You're able to rest your head on his chest and peer over your shoulder at the movie. He's surprisingly cold, which soothes the raging heat that builds in your core. His hands rest against your sides patiently, lying in wait for whenever he decides he's grown bored of the movie.

Perhaps that's why it's so easy because the start is mostly skinship. Harumasa may be a tease, but he does love having you close like this. It's almost innocent if only his cock wasn't buried inside you as deep as it would go.

It starts getting hard when his hands start moving around, which is where you're at right now. They slide from their place on your waist down to your ass, rubbing and squeezing the skin like a stress ball. Then they'll find their way to your thighs, dancing along the meat of them and running his thumbs over the tops before falling back to your ass and repeating the process.

You shiver, stiffening up in his lap as he repeats the motion for the millionth time. An unexpected sharp pain erupts from your ass, and it takes your brain a second to process that he has smacked you. You pull back to glare at him, and he returns the look with an innocent smile, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"I can't pay attention to the movie with you squirming like that," he scolds lightly, pressing you back into his shoulder.

You fight the urge to grumble back a 'neither can I', and instead try not to focus on the ever-increasing heat in your groin. It's much easier said than done, as each little twitch from either of you gives you a painful reminder that he's balls deep inside you and you can't do anything about it. He laughs at something in the movie and it travels from his chest right through his dick and into your weeping cunt.

You give up on paying attention to the movie at that point, deciding trembling into his shoulder was a better alternative than pretending you were fine. You nose the column of his throat with shaky breaths, burrowing yourself into his shoulder with a pathetic sigh.

He coos at you, running his fingers through your hair in what's meant to be comfort. You know he's just doing it to annoy you, though. Your spine tingles as his fingers tug a little at the hair, your pussy clenching around him in favor. He groans, pulling a little harder to get you to look at him.

Again, you see something like contemplation behind his eyes, then he smiles at you. His hand comes down from your hair to press your neck forward, and he locks lips with you. You sigh happily into the kiss, not realizing how desperately you'd wanted the attention until now. It seems he knows that, with the way he smirks into the kiss before gliding his tongue across your lip.

You happily give him the access he craves, humming as his tongue slips in and pressing against yours. He tastes bitter, like the medicine he takes every day, but the taste is welcome from your neglected body. You graze your fingers against his collarbone and he finally reacts, pressing his hips up into yours before correcting himself.

As if knowing you'd try it, his hands firmly pressed you to him, not allowing you to move. You whine into his mouth, and he pulls away to smile at you, head leaning against the back of the couch. His face is red, but he looks so satisfied which almost makes the torture worth it.

Deciding you can't handle how pretty he is, you lean down to litter warm kisses against his neck. He sighs, lulling his head to the side to give you better access. You suck at the pretty skin, nibbling on whatever your lips can find. You feel the effect it has on him, dick twitching inside you with each new mark you leave. He continues to run his fingers through your hair, humming contentedly as you service him.

It's when you get to his collarbones that he pauses you, pulling your face up to his. He presses a sweet little kiss to your nose, causing you to giggle. He tilts his head to the side, running a finger along your cheek, "How was your day, baby?"

You respond softly to his musing, answering all his questions about your day. Then, in the middle of telling him about what your boss made you do that day, you feel it. His hands very slowly ease your hips into a short, circular movement. You choke on the words, shuddering at the sensation. It felt... so good, you forgot how to think for a moment as your neglected pussy throbs at the attention.

Harumasa tilts his head at you, though he's smirking, "What was that?"

You stutter out the rest of your response, hardly coherent, but it satisfies him nonetheless. He continues to work you against him at the same slow and easy pace, a master of making things long and drawn out.

Those fingers that had been steadily controlling the pace, slide under your shirt to rake against your ribs. Bunching the fabric up along with your bra and tugging it off your body. Your skin pebbles in the cold air of your apartment, and his hands are quick to glide over it to heat it up. He lets out a low whistle at the sight of your tits, hands immediately cupping them like they belonged there.

Your hips stutter at the new sensation, earning you a look from him that makes you return to the previously set rhythm. Without breaking eye contact, he leans forward to kiss over your chest. Even at the awkward angle, he manages to rub every sensitive spot deep inside you, all while sucking pretty red marks into your hot flesh.

He keeps that up for a long while, ensuring that neither of you can cum until he wants you to. It's sweet sweet torture. The pleasure curls up in your gut, unable to release but somehow forever building up.

All at once his head lulls back and his oh-so-steady rhythm suddenly becomes unreliable. His hips stutter against his beat, but he keeps up that slow pace as best as he can. His hand comes down to roll your clit under his thumb, and you finally feel yourself building to your orgasm. He's close too.

"Baby," he whines, gripping your hip tightly, "lemme stuff you, please? I'll getcha plan b in the morning, jus' lemme this once."

He always says that. Not that you're coherent enough to remind him of that fact. All you can think of is how badly you wanna cum, and how you'll say yes to anything to reach that high. So you awkwardly bob your head in a 'yes' motion.

His eyes roll back and he groans, picking up his pace finally. Your hips rut into his with a fervor you didn't know you were capable of. You slump forward, moaning into his shoulder unabashedly. The coil in your stomach twists and twists until it finally snaps.

At the same time, you feel his warm hot cum flood your insides. His cock twitches with each release, and your walls tighten around it almost encouraging the action. His chest rises and falls in succession with yours, fingers curling in your hair soothing both of you.

Your eyes slowly drift closed at the gentle sensation, sighing happily into his shoulder. He presses kisses to your temple, but you know he's just as spent as you are. Neither of you would be leaving the couch, not that it was a problem when he tugged one of your throw blankets across your back, pulling you down into a much more comfortable sideways position.

You drift off with his dick still inside you, the warm sensation of his cum inside you calling you to rest. You always sleep well on nights like these, wrapped up in one another.

[the-winter-spider]

All lights turned off, Can be turned on | Steve Harrington

Word Count: 17.3k,

Warnings: Angst, depression, su!cide mentioned

A/N: Found this in my docs as well, Not edited or proof read.

----

You and Steve used to tell each other everything.

You don’t remember when that stopped.

It wasn’t all at once, not like a car crash, not like the kind of thing that left broken glass and skid marks and screaming in its wake. No, it was slower than that. Something you barely noticed at first. Like a leak under the sink, dripping water into the dark, rotting the foundation of everything before you ever thought to check.

And now, here you are. Sitting in the passenger seat of Steve Harrington’s car, pretending everything is fine.

The heater is on, but you’re still shivering. The leather seat sticks to the back of your legs, and the silence between you sticks even worse.

You’re not sure why you said yes when he called you. Maybe it was easier than ignoring him again. Maybe it was the way he said your name, soft and careful, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough. Like you hadn’t already been disappearing for months.

Maybe you just missed him.

The worst part is, Steve hasn’t changed. Not really. He still drives too fast but somehow never gets caught. He still chews on the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking too hard. He still glances at you out of the corner of his eye like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

And you still don’t.

You don’t know how to explain what’s wrong. Not in a way that doesn’t sound pathetic, not in a way that doesn’t make you feel like an open wound with no skin to protect you.

How do you say, I feel like a ghost in my own body?

How do you say, Everything is heavy, even breathing?

How do you say, I miss you so much it makes me sick…when he’s right there?

Steve taps his fingers against the steering wheel. You recognize the rhythm some song he used to blast on summer nights, windows down, both of you singing at the top of your lungs. But now, he doesn’t turn on the radio. He just keeps driving, waiting.

“Robin said your voicemail is full.” His voice is soft, careful.

You don’t look at him. “That’s nice.”

“She’s worried about you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until it hurts. You want to say she doesn’t need to be, but that would be a lie, and Steve always knows when you’re lying.

He exhales through his nose, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’m worried about you..”

You say nothing.

Steve makes a sound, half a scoff, half a sigh. “Jesus, will you just…say something?”

You swallow. Your throat feels tight. “What do you want me to say, Steve?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “That you’re okay? That you’re not—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to get the thought out before it can settle. “I don’t know. Something. Anything.” He pleaded

There’s something in his voice that cracks you open a little. It’s not frustration, not really. It’s fear. You hate that. You hate that he’s scared for you, hate that you’ve done this to him.

You press your forehead against the window, watching the streetlights blur past. “I’m fine.”

Steve laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “Right. Fine.” He shakes his head. “You really expect me to believe that?”

You don’t answer.

Because no, of course you don’t. Steve might be a lot of things, annoying, stubborn, entirely too attractive for his own good but he’s not stupid no matter how much he thinks he is.

The car slows to a stop at an intersection, red light bleeding into the windshield. Steve turns his head, looking at you. You can feel his gaze like a weight on your skin.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Look at me.”

You don’t.

He doesn’t let up. “C’mon. Just..look at me, please.”

You do and the moment your eyes meet his, your throat feels even tighter.

Because Steve is looking at you like you’re breaking. Like you’re something fragile, something precious. Like he doesn’t know how to fix you, but he wants to. Desperately.

It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to scream. It makes you want to grab his stupid, perfect face and kiss him because maybe if he knew how much you love him, maybe if he really knew, it would explain all of this. Maybe then he’d understand why it’s been so hard to breathe without him.

But you don’t.

Because Steve has a life, a future, a heart big enough to love the whole damn world, and he deserves better than someone who can barely get out of bed in the morning.

Instead, you force a smile. “I’m fine, Steve.”

He stares at you. Then his jaw tightens, and he turns back to the road. The light turns green.

He doesn’t say another word and neither do you.

You and Steve used to tell each other everything.

That’s what makes this worse.

Because if this were anyone else, you could pretend. You could fake a smile, change the subject, tell them you’ve just been busy, sorry I haven’t called, work’s been crazy, you know how it is. But Steve knows better. Steve remembers.

He remembers what your voice sounds like at 2 AM when you can’t sleep.

He remembers the way you bite your lip when you’re about to cry but don’t want anyone to notice.

He remembers the day your mom packed up and left, shoved a stack of cash in your hand like that would make up for anything, kissed you on the forehead, and walked out the door.

He remembers that you didn’t cry then, either.

Maybe that’s why he looks at you like this now, like he’s waiting for the dam to break, like he wants you to break, just a little, just enough to let him help.

But you don’t.

Because if you let one thing slip, it’s all going to come pouring out, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to shove it back inside again.

So instead, you sit there in his car, staring out the windshield like you can will yourself invisible. The heater hums, blowing warm air against your cold fingers, but you still feel frozen.

Steve’s gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles have gone white.

“She called me,” he says, voice low, tight.

You blink. “…Who?”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “Your mom.”

Your stomach drops.

Of course she did.

Not because she cares. Not because she suddenly woke up in her new life and thought, God, I miss my kid, I should check in. No, she called because the bank probably told her your rent was due soon, and she needed to make sure you hadn’t run off and died somewhere before she sent the next check.

You don’t say that out loud. You don’t say anything at all.

Steve exhales sharply through his nose. “She said you’re not picking up.”

“So?”

“So, she’s worried about you.”

You let out a laugh, sharp and bitter. “No, she’s not.”

Steve flinches. Just a little. Just enough for you to catch it.

You shake your head, turning away, pressing your fingers against the cold glass of the window. Your breath fogs up the surface, blurring the outside world into a smear of streetlights and passing cars.

“She doesn’t care, Steve,” you say, voice quieter now. “She just wants to make sure I’m still alive so she doesn’t have to feel guilty when she pays my rent.”

Silence.

“That’s bullshit.”

You glance at him. “What?”

Steve turns in his seat to face you fully. “That’s bullshit,” he repeats, firmer now. His eyes are dark, shining with something you don’t quite understand. “You think she doesn’t care? Fine. But I do.”

Your throat tightens.

Steve swallows, running a hand through his hair. “I care. Robin cares. Dustin cares. Hell, Eddie would probably kick your ass if he knew you were pulling this disappearing act.”

A weak attempt at a joke, but his voice cracks at the end, and that’s what makes your chest ache. Not the words. The way he sounds.

Like he’s scared.

Like he’s losing you.

You should say something. You should tell him he’s not. But your ribs feel like they’re caving in, pressing against your lungs until you can barely breathe, and the words won’t come.

Steve shakes his head. “Look, I get it, okay? I get it.” His voice softens, his fingers flexing against his knee. “Some days, it’s easier to just… not. Not answer the phone, not get out of bed, not deal with anything.”

You don’t ask how he knows that.

You don’t ask what his bad days look like, or how often they happen, or if he ever sits alone in his car after work, gripping the steering wheel and trying to find a reason to go home.

You don’t ask, because if you do, then this whole conversation is going to turn into something real, and you don’t know if you’re ready for that.

So you do what you always do. You deflect. “I didn’t ask you to come here,” you murmur.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah. You never do.”

It’s the same thing he said last time. The same bitter truth, thrown in your face like a reminder that you have done nothing but push him away for months and he’s still here, and you have no idea why.

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because what are you supposed to say to that? Sorry? It wouldn’t mean anything. Thank you? That would just make it worse.

Steve studies your face, eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s memorizing it, like he’s trying to understand something you’re not giving him.

Then, he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You should get inside.”

It’s not a command. Not a demand. Just… a suggestion. A tired, quiet plea.

You hesitate.

Because stepping out of this car means going back to the same four walls, the same shitty apartment that isn’t really yours, the same bed where you lie awake at night staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re ever going to feel like a real person again.

But if you stay, you’ll have to deal with Steve looking at you like this and that might be worse.

So you reach for the door handle, pressing your fingers against the cold metal. “Yeah. Okay.”

Steve doesn’t say anything as you step out.

He doesn’t say anything as you shut the door behind you, as you walk up the steps to your building, as you fumble for your keys with shaking hands and you don’t look back.

Because if you do, you might see him still sitting there, waiting for something you’ll never give him.

---

Steve Harrington isn’t a fixer.

Not really. Not in the way Robin is, where she tries to talk things through, tries to logic her way into making things better. Not in the way Dustin is, where he gets all loud and determined, like if he just explains enough, the universe will bend to his will.

Steve’s not like that. Never has been. But when someone he loves is hurting? He wants to fix it and he can’t.

Which is how he ends up here, slumped in the break room at Family Video, head in his hands, while Robin leans against the table with her arms crossed, looking at him like she’s not sure whether to shake him or hug him.

“She won’t talk to me,” Steve mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “I mean, I knew something was wrong, obviously. But last night—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know, man. It was like she wasn’t even there.”

Robin doesn’t say anything right away. Just drums her fingers against her elbow, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to figure out the right words.

Finally, she sighs. “Yeah.”

Steve blinks. “Yeah?”

Robin shrugs, looking away. “She won’t talk to me either.”

That makes his stomach drop.

Because Robin is…Robin. She’s the one people go to when they don’t want to talk to him. She’s the one who sees all the things he misses, the one who knows how to poke and prod until someone has to say something and if even she isn’t getting through?

Steve leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Shit.”

Robin makes a noise in agreement, grabbing an old receipt off the table and crumpling it in her hands. “I tried stopping by the other day,” she admits. “Knocked on the door for, like, five minutes. Nothing. I thought about climbing through the window, but, y’know, didn’t want to get arrested for breaking and entering.”

Steve snorts. “Pretty sure they wouldn’t arrest you. You’d just get yelled at for falling and breaking your arm.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. My point is, she’s not just ignoring you. She’s—” She hesitates, waving her hand in the air. “Avoiding.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

It shouldn’t make him feel better, knowing it’s not just him. But it kind of does. Because it means he didn’t do something wrong. It means it’s not personal.

It just means… you’re hurting, really hurting and Steve has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do about it.

Robin sighs again, running a hand through her hair. “Do you think she—” She stops, frowning, like she’s not sure if she wants to say it out loud.

Steve sits up. “What?”

Robin hesitates. Then, quietly “Do you think she even wants help?”

The question settles in the air between them like smoke. Steve doesn’t know how to answer. Because of course you do. Right? Nobody actually wants to feel like this. Nobody actually wants to be alone in their shitty apartment, shutting the world out until all that’s left is the sound of their own breathing.

But you’re not trying either. You’re not reaching out, you’re not answering calls, you’re not doing anything to pull yourself out of it. So maybe… maybe Robin has a point.

Steve exhales, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, she doesn’t…ask for anything. Ever. Even before all this. Even when her mom—” He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. “I don’t think she even knows how to let people help her.”

Robin makes a frustrated noise, throwing the crumpled-up receipt at the wall. “Okay, well, that’s stupid.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

Robin presses her lips together, thoughtful. “We should do something.”

Steve lifts his head. “Like what?”

Robin shrugs. “I don’t know. Force her to hang out with us? Show up at her place and refuse to leave until she talks?”

Steve considers that for a second. It’s not a bad idea, necessarily. But the last time he showed up uninvited, she barely even looked at him. She just stood there, gripping the edge of the window like she wanted to slam it shut but didn’t have the energy.

He sighs. “I don’t think she wants us there.”

Robin groans, flopping dramatically against the table. “Okay, well, what does she want?”

Steve doesn’t answer. Because if he knew that, he wouldn’t feel like this. Wouldn’t feel like he’s standing outside a locked door, banging his fists against it, waiting for her to open it just a little.

Wouldn’t feel so goddamn helpless. Robin sits up, narrowing her eyes at him. “You love her.”

Steve freezes. His heartbeat stutters, then picks up, hammering against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. “I—”

Robin raises a hand. “And before you start with the ‘what, no, shut up, Robin’ thing, dude, come on.”

Steve stares at the table. His hands curl into fists in his lap. “It’s not like that.”

Robin snorts. “Bullshit.”

He clenches his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Steve.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t.” His voice is flat. “She’s dealing with enough already. The last thing she needs is—” He gestures vaguely at himself. “—this.”

Robin sighs, tapping her fingers against the table. “You know, sometimes I forget you used to be an actual dumbass in high school. But then you say shit like that, and it all comes rushing back.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

Robin ignores him. “Listen, I don’t know what the right thing to do is, okay? I don’t know if we’re supposed to wait for her to come to us, or if we’re supposed to force her to let us in, or if we’re just supposed to—” She waves her hands around. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that you giving up? Not an option.”

Steve lets out a slow breath. Because she’s right. Of course she is.

Robin stands, grabbing her coat. “C’mon. We’re taking a break.”

Steve frowns. “A break from what?”

Robin shrugs. “I don’t know. Thinking. Worrying. Feeling like shit. Take your pick.” She nods toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Steve hesitates. Because it feels wrong. Feels like walking away, like leaving something unfinished. Like giving up.

But Robin’s already halfway out the door, and he knows she won’t take no for an answer, so he follows.

---

You don’t remember when it started.

Not exactly.

You used to. You used to be able to point to a day, an hour, a moment, like that’s when it happened, that’s when things shifted. Like you could pinpoint the exact second something cracked inside you, like there was ever just one reason.

But the truth is, it wasn’t a moment. It was slow, like falling asleep.

One minute, you were fine. Maybe not happy, maybe not okay in the way other people seemed to be, but you were moving, at least. Breathing, laughing, living and then…then, one day, you woke up, and everything was heavy and it hasn’t stopped being heavy since.

You try to remember the last time you didn’t feel like this. Try to think back to a version of yourself that wasn’t always tired, that didn’t feel like they were made of lead and regret.

But it’s all so blurry. The last few years, hell, maybe the last decade just bleeding together. Like your brain pressed a thumb against the edges of your memories and smeared them into nothing.

You remember childhood. You remember Hawkins before everything went to hell. Long summers, scraped knees, riding bikes through the woods like you were invincible. Before you knew the things that lived underneath. Before you knew what it meant to lose.

You remember Steve. Always Steve.

You remember growing up with him, watching him turn from the loud-mouthed, cocky kid next door into this. The Steve who worries too much. The Steve who never lets people see that he worries too much. The Steve who never lets anyone go, even when they try to slip through his fingers.

You don’t remember when you started slipping. You don’t remember when you stopped wanting to be around anyone but him.

It wasn’t a choice, not really. It just…happened. One day, the thought of being around people became exhausting. One day, the idea of leaving your apartment, of talking, of pretending you were still the same person who cracked jokes with Robin and argued with Dustin and letting Lucus play horrible music in your car, One day, it all just felt like too much. But Steve never did. Steve was the only thing that still felt safe and maybe that’s why you hate this so much. Because if he’s starting to feel heavy too, if being around him hurts now, if even Steve is slipping away….then what’s left?

The sun has barely started setting when the knock comes. You already know who it is.

Steve knocks like he means it. Like if he just knocks loud enough, long enough, you have to answer. You don’t move.

You stare at the wall, curled up in a blanket that doesn’t feel warm enough, willing him to go away.

Another knock. “Come on,” his voice filters through the door, muffled. “I know you’re in there.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

He sighs. You hear the rustling of fabric, the shift of weight as he leans against the door. He’s not going anywhere. He never does.

There’s a long pause. Then, quieter. “You don’t have to talk. I just… I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

You swallow, pressing your face into the fabric of your sleeve.

Because you should want that. You should want him here, should want someone here, should want anything other than this emptiness sitting in your chest like an open grave.

But you don’t know how to reach for him. You don’t know how to say stay. So you just don’t.

You just stay there, curled up in your blanket, waiting for him to give up. Eventually, he does.

You listen to the sound of him exhaling, of his footsteps fading away, of the silence settling in again.

You tell yourself this is what you want, but then why do you feel worse?

---

The voicemail is waiting when you wake up.

You don’t check it at first. Just roll onto your side, staring at the dust collecting on your nightstand, willing yourself to go back to sleep even though you know it won’t happen.

Then another one comes in and another. You don’t have to listen to know who they’re from.

You’ve ignored enough of Steve’s calls to recognize the sound of him trying anyway. You cleared your voicemail box a few days ago, more out of boredom than anything…so now he and Robin have free reign to leave you messages that you won’t listen to.

Except, you do eventually.

Robin’s comes first.

“Hey, loser. It’s my birthday, and you’re supposed to be here. You better not be pulling that ‘oh, I forgot’ bullshit, because I know you didn’t. I told you like, twenty times. Anyway, I miss you. And not in the sad, dramatic way you probably think…just in the normal, regular way. So… come over, okay?”A pause. “Please.”

Then Steve’s, his voice is softer. Tired.

“I don’t know if you’re even checking these, but… it’s Robin’s birthday. She wants you here. I want you here. You don’t have to stay long. You don’t have to talk. Just… come, okay? It’s at my place.”

You sit with that for a while. Roll it over in your head.

Think about how much easier it would be to ignore them. Think about how nice it would be to just sink further into this, this in-between state, where you don’t have to deal with anything, don’t have to pretend.

But then you think about Robin waiting for you and Steve. And how bad it will be if you don’t go. If they start knocking on your door again, if they start pushing even harder, if you finally push them away the same way you have with everything else and you don’t want that.

Not really. So you go. Late, though. Hours past the time Robin said to come. If you show up late enough, most people will already be gone. If you time it right, you can show your face, hand over the gift, and leave before anyone really sees you.

One foot in, one foot out, always.

Steve’s house is lit up when you get there. The driveway is mostly empty, but you can still hear laughter from the backyard, Robin’s unmistakable cackle, Dustin’s high-pitched wheeze, the sound of clinking bottles and the buzz of conversation. You hesitate at the curb, shifting the weight of the gift bag in your hands.

A few records. Some Robin has been talking about for months, saying she’s too broke to afford. You bought it weeks ago, back when you were still trying to convince yourself you were going to get better, when you thought maybe you’d show up and hand it to her with a smile and everything would feel normal again.

But nothing feels normal anymore. You make it to the porch. Stand in front of the door. Your fingers twitch toward the handle, but you don’t move. The laughter from the backyard drifts through the air. They all sound happy. You should turn around. You should leave before anyone notices before you dull their happiness.

The side gate opens, you don't notice, too busy in your own head and Steve steps out, holding a trash bag in one hand, looking half-exasperated, half-something else. But the moment he sees you…really sees you, he freezes.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you, watches the way you stand there, stiff and uncertain, your arm twitching like you’re about to knock, then dropping back down. Watches the way your grip tightens around the gift bag, how you shift from foot to foot like you’re debating running.

Ten minutes.

He realizes, suddenly, that he's just being watching you for 10 minutes, and you’ve just been standing there in your own world.

He swallows. “Hey. You came.”

You don’t jump. Don’t flinch. You just look at him, expression unreadable. “Yeah,” you say after a moment. “I… I bought her this a while ago. She deserves to have it.”

Steve’s chest tightens. Because fuck, you sound, you sound tired. Not just physically, not like you didn’t get enough sleep, but the kind of tired that sits inside you. The kind of tired he doesn’t know how to fix.

He clears his throat. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the backyard. “We’re all back here.”

You hesitate and Steve knows, knows, that this is it. That you’re going to back out, that you’re going to make some excuse, that you’re going to disappear again.

“Please.” It comes out quiet. Not demanding. Not pushing. Almost desperate, you nod. Steve lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, stepping aside so you can follow.

As you walk behind him, he risks a glance back and that’s when he notices it.

The weight loss. The way your clothes hang just a little looser than they used to. The way your shoulders curve inward, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller, like you’re bracing for something. But more than that, your eyes. He’s seen you tired before. Seen you scared. Seen you cry. But he’s never seen you like this.

It makes something sharp twist in his chest, something angry, not at you, never at you, but at the way things got this bad without him noticing. Right before you step into the backyard, he watches it happen.

The shift.

Your back straightens, your shoulders roll back, and suddenly, it’s like you’re on. Like you’ve flipped a switch, turned into some version of yourself that’s passable enough to make it through the night.

Steve clenches his jaw. Because he knows you and this, this isn’t you.

Robin looks up from her spot at the table, eyes widening when she sees you. “Holy shit.”

And you, you smile.

But Steve doesn’t. Because now that he’s seen the difference, now that he’s really looking,he doesn’t think he can pretend anymore, either.

The backyard feels too big.

Too open, too bright, even with the sun dipping below the trees. The string lights Steve put up years ago glow softly, casting everything in a warm, golden haze. People are spread out in clusters Dustin and Mike playfully shoving each other near the fire pit, Max sitting with Lucus on the porch swing and a few other people you don’t know, don’t recognize.

It should feel familiar. These are your friends. Your people. But instead, you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

You hover near the back, close enough to look like you’re part of it, far enough to not actually be part of it. The laughter and voices blend together into something distant, something that doesn’t quite reach you.

“I’ll get you a drink, pop?” He asks quietly, you just nod.

Steve moves through the small crowd easily, the way he always has. It’s different now, he’s not King Steve anymore, hasn’t been for a long time but he still has this way of fitting, like he belongs and for a long time, you thought you did too.

But now, standing here, watching everyone from a few feet away, you wonder if you ever really did, or if you just convinced yourself you did because you were always next to him.

Across the yard, Nancy is watching.

Not in an obvious way, but you can feel it. The occasional glances, the way her brow furrows slightly when she looks at you. She’s never been one to miss details. You know she’s going to say something before she even moves.

Nancy finds Steve in the kitchen.

He’s leaning against the counter, half-distracted, sipping a beer. There’s already a pile of empty bottles in the sink, a testament to the night slowly winding down.

“Hey,” she says, stepping beside him.

Steve glances at her. “Hey.”

Nancy tilts her head toward the back door. “So… what’s going on?”

Steve frowns. “What do you mean?”

Nancy sighs. “You know what I mean.”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the counter beside him. ���She looks… bad, Steve.”

Steve stiffens. “Nance…”

“I mean it.” She gives him a pointed look. “She's barely spoken to anyone at all lately, She looks like she hasn’t been sleeping and I saw the way she was standing by the gate when you let her in like she was debating leaving.”

Steve exhales sharply, setting his drink down. “Yeah. I know.”

Nancy watches him. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. “A while.”

Nancy doesn’t say why didn’t you tell me? but Steve hears it anyway.

It’s not that he didn’t want to. He just didn’t know how. How do you explain something that isn’t one thing? How do you explain the slow, sinking feeling of watching someone you love slip further away, even when they’re standing right in front of you?

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve admits quietly. “I keep trying, and she just—” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Nancy presses her lips together, thinking. “She came, though.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s something.”

Steve exhales. “I guess.”

Nancy nudges him gently. “She wouldn’t have come if she didn’t want to.”

Steve isn’t sure if that’s true. But he wants it to be.

Robin is sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by wrapping paper and a growing pile of gifts.

You hover nearby, fingers curling around the handle of the gift bag, heart hammering against your ribs. This shouldn’t feel so big. It’s just a gift. Just a stupid birthday present.

But somehow, it does. You don’t remember the last time you gave someone a gift.

Not like this. Not something you put thought into, something you picked out because you knew they’d love it.

Your stomach twists. Maybe she won’t. Maybe this is stupid. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

Steves suddenly beside you, handing you your drink and he nudges your arm. It’s light, barely there, but you feel it. The reminder. The push.

So you step forward. Clear your throat. Robin looks up.

Her eyes widen slightly, like she’s still surprised you’re here.

You swallow. Hold out the bag. “Uh. This is for you.”

Robin blinks. Then, without hesitation, she grabs it.

Rips the tissue paper apart and she freezes. Her mouth falls open.

For a long moment, she just stares down at the records in her lap, like she doesn’t quite believe they’re real. Then she looks back at you, eyes wide.

“Holy shit.”

You shift your weight. “You, uh. You kept talking about them.” You gesture vaguely. “Figured you should have them.”

Robin’s fingers skim the covers, tracing the edges like they might disappear if she blinks. “This must’ve cost you a lot of money.” She looks up, shaking her head. “I can’t take these.”

You shake your head too, quickly, heart lurching. “Yes, you can.”

Robin’s expression softens. She studies you for a second, then nods. “Okay.” Then, quieter. “Thank you.”

And then she stands before you can stop her and she hugs you.

It’s quick, nothing dramatic, but it shocks you. You go stiff immediately, muscles locking up, breath caught in your throat.

Because fuck, you don’t remember the last time someone hugged you.

Not a casual pat on the back. Not an arm slung over your shoulder. A hug. A real, genuine, someone-wants-you-here hug.

For a second, you don’t move but slowly, hesitantly, you hug her back and it takes everything in you not to break completely.

Your throat clenches. Your arms shake. There’s something dangerously tight in your chest, something heavy behind your ribs, something overwhelming.

Steve sees it. No one else does, but he does.

The way you freeze. The way you hesitate before melting into it, before gripping Robin’s shirt just a little too tight, before squeezing your eyes shut like you might actually cry.

Robin pulls back, grinning at you. “I love them. I love you.”

You force a small smile. “Glad you like them.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “I don’t like them. I love them.”

Her voice is light, teasing.

But Steve watches the way your fingers twitch. The way you don’t respond to that. The way you glance toward the door, just for a second like you’re still half-thinking about running because you are and when everyone is busy with cake, you do.

---

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Robin’s party. Two weeks since you stepped back into them, into all of it and in those two weeks, you’ve successfully avoided everyone.

No calls. No visits. No late-night knocks on your door.

Nothing.

You should feel relieved. Should feel better. This is what you wanted, right? To be left alone?

But instead, all you feel is nothing. Like something inside you has been scraped out and hollowed, leaving you with only the dull, aching weight of emptiness.

Your apartment feels suffocating, the silence pressing in too tight. Sleep doesn’t come easy, when it does, it’s restless, fractured, full of static and half-remembered voices.

So, you get up and you walk. It’s almost midnight when you end up at the liquor store.

It’s the kind of place that doesn’t ask questions, the kind that stays open too late and doesn’t care much about who walks through the doors.

The guy at the counter barely looks at you. He takes your fake ID, glances at the picture, looks back at you, then shrugs and slides it back across the counter.

A minute later, a small brown paper bag is in your hand. You don’t know why you’re doing this. You just want to feel something.

---

Steve’s driving.

Robin is in the passenger seat, her feet up on the dashboard, flipping through a mixtape case. They’re coming back from a long shift at Family Video, Steve is exhausted, Robin is rambling about something, and everything is normal.

Then her voice high pitched, “Holy shit. Is that Y/N?”

Steve’s stomach drops. Before he can even think, his foot slams the brake. The car jerks forward, tires screeching, and Robin yelps, grabbing the dashboard.

“Jesus, Steve, warn me next time!”

But Steve doesn’t hear her. His grip tightens around the steering wheel, eyes locked on the sidewalk.

On you. You’re standing under a flickering streetlight, paper bag in hand, bottle tilted toward your lips.

There’s something about that, about seeing you, alone in the middle of the night, drinking like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes his chest tighten with something sharp and wrong.

Robin breathes out a quiet, “Shit.”

Steve doesn’t think. He just throws the car into park, leaves the keys in the ignition, and gets out. Robin calls after him, but he doesn’t stop, how can hr when you’re right there.

You still don’t see him.

You just keep walking, one slow step after another, like you’re sleepwalking, like the whole world has blurred around the edges and you’re moving through it without really being there.

“What are you doing?”

Your steps falter, you turn and when your eyes meet his, flat, unfocused, tired…Steve’s stomach clenches.

You look wrong. Not just exhausted, not just numb, but wrong in a way that makes his skin crawl, in a way that makes his heart slam against his ribs because this isn’t you.

He takes a step forward, eyes flicking down to the brown paper bag clutched in your hand. “What is this?”

You stare at him, flatly, hollowly you speak. “I’m thirsty.”

Something inside Steve snaps. His arms fly up, frustration spilling out. “Are you kidding me?!”

You blink at him. Like you don’t get it. Like you don’t understand why he’s angry, why his chest feels like it’s about to explode.

“You have people who care about you.” His voice cracks. “People who love you, who are willing to help you through this and you’re out here doing this? What the fuck are you doing?”

Silence.

“It's nothing Steve, just drop it.”

Steve shakes his head, voice raw. “You think this is nothing? You think this is just your life to throw away? After everything we’ve been through? After everyone we’ve lost?”

You flinch.

But he doesn’t stop.

“Do you think Barb wanted to die? Do you think Billy wanted to? What about fucking Hopper? Do you think any of them got a choice?” His voice rises, filled with something sharp and desperate, something clawing its way out of him. “And now you’re out here, drinking in the middle of the fucking street like none of it matters? Like you don’t matter?”

Your stomach twists. Because that, that is exactly how it feels.

Like you don’t matter. Like you’ve been waiting to disappear for so long that maybe this is just the next step.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “I didn’t ask for a fucking lecture, Steve.”

“Well, you’re getting one.” He exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N. You think you’re the only one who’s struggling? You think you’re the only one who has to wake up every day and pretend to be fine?”

You scoff. “Oh, yeah. Poor Steve Harrington. Must be so hard for you.”

Steve stares at you. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get it!”

Your voice rises, sharp and bitter, something ugly curling in your chest.

“You…” Your breath shudders. “You have people, Steve! You have everyone. You have Robin and Dustin, and all of them love you. You’ll never be alone!”

You shake your head, taking a step back, fingers tightening around the bag. “I don’t have anyone, Steve. Nobody stays. Nobody ever fucking stays, I’m not apart of a group, everyone has someone aside, the children all have each other, Nance has Jonathan, Robin has you, you and her! I don’t fucking have anyone! I never did because no one stays, my own Mother didn’t want to stay!” Your voice cracks.

Steve’s face twists, and for a second, something pained flashes through his expression. “I stayed.”

“Yeah?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “For how long? Until I make things too fucking hard for you? Until you finally realize I’m not worth it?”

Steve’s chest aches. “That’s not…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” You shake your head, eyes burning. “I see it in your face, Steve. You don’t know what to do with me anymore. You’re exhausted. You’re—” Your voice wobbles. “You’re gonna leave just like everyone else.”

“I’m not leaving you.”*

“Why not?!” The words explode out of you, raw and furious, and suddenly you’re pushing at his chest, shoving him back. “Why do you even fucking care?”

Steve grabs your wrists before you can shove him again, holding you there, his grip tight but steady. “Because I love you!”

Your breath catches. But it doesn’t change anything.

Because Steve can say that all he wants, but you know, you know, that it won’t last.

Love has never lasted for you.

So you rip your arms out of his grip, stepping back. “Well, I don’t fucking want it.”

The words hit him.

Hard.

You watch something in his face break, something deep, something that looks a little too much like hope dying.

And you, you don’t know how to stop, how to stop the self sabotage, how do stop the want, the need the urge to push him away even further now after the confession.

“Maybe that’s why I’m not around anymore,” you continue, words spilling out like poison. “Maybe I don’t want to be around you. Ever thought of that, Harrington? I don’t want any of it, I don’t want you!”

Steve flinches like you hit him.

Because maybe if you push hard enough, maybe if you make this ugly enough, he’ll finally give up on you.

He swallows hard, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too fast.

Quietly, brokenly, his voice waivers. “Fuck you.”

It cuts through the air like a gunshot. You don’t breathe.

Steve shakes his head, jaw clenched, furious. “Fine. You wanna be alone so fucking bad? Fine.”

Your chest is heaving. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Leave me the fuck alone! Finally!” The words rip out of you, loud, shaking, cutting through the night like a blade.

Steve just stands there.

His face twists, and he swipes a shaking hand over it, exhaling sharply, like he’s trying to keep himself together.

But you see it. See the way his eyes go glassy, see the way his chest rises and falls too fast, too uneven.

He turns, gets back in his car, drives away and you, you stand there, watching the taillights disappear into the dark. As he watches you become small and smaller in his rearview mirror.

Robin is still in the passenger seat, staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Whoa.”

Steve grips the steering wheel, knuckles white.

He exhales, voice tight, wrecked. “I know, Robin. I know.”

---

Steve reels.

For days, he feels like he’s floating, like he’s moving through the motions of his life without actually being in it. He goes to work. He watches movies with Robin. He drives Dustin home from the arcade.

But his mind is stuck.

It keeps replaying your voice, the venom in it, the way you said maybe I don’t want to be around you, the way he told you he loves you and you acted like it was nothing, like it didn’t fucking matter and maybe it shouldn’t.

Maybe he should let it go. Move on. Forget. But that’s the thing about Steve. He doesn’t let go and he could never try and forget you.

The others keep trying, even when Steve stops, one by one, they try.

Robin knocks on your door again. Stands there for almost twenty minutes, knocking, knocking, knocking. No answer.

Nancy calls. Nothing.

Jonathan even swings by. Dustin and Lucas take turns dropping in. Even Will tries.

Nothing and then Max, Max says, Fuck this.

She stands in the parking lot of your apartment, hands on her hips, glaring up at your window like she can will you into existence.

Lucas frowns. “Uh… Max?”

“What are you doing?” Dustin asks.

She doesn’t answer.

Just rolls her shoulders, shakes out her arms, and nods toward the boys. “Lift me up.”

Lucas blinks. “What?”

“You heard me,” Max says. “You’re all freakishly tall. Get me to that balcony.”

Dustin sputters. “Are you insane? You’re gonna fall and die.”

Max gives him a look. “It’s the second floor, Dustin.”

Dustin and Lucas exchange a glance. Then, reluctantly they link their hands together, bending down slightly. Max steps up, balancing on their grip, and they push her up.

She grabs the railing. Hauls herself over. Lands with a soft thud on the balcony and then she turns toward your window.

It’s unlocked. Because of course it is.

Max sighs. “Jesus, dumbass.”

She pushes it open. Climbs inside, the apartment is dark. Quiet, too quiet.

“Y/N?”

No answer.

She steps forward, glancing around. Clothes on the floor. A half-empty glass on the counter. An unmade bed.

But no you.

Max frowns. Steps further in. Looks around the corner, into the bathroom, the closet.

“She’s not here.”

The boys freeze.

“What?” Dustin calls up.

Max peers over the balcony. “She’s not here.”

Lucas exhales. “Maybe she’s just…out?”

Dustin nods, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe she’s just out.”

Because it’s fine. It’s fine. Hawkins isn’t that big. Maybe you just needed air. Maybe you just needed space.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably it.

Dustin stops by Family Video a few days later.

Steve is behind the counter, barely paying attention, flipping through tapes.

Dustin walks in, leans against the counter, and says, “We broke in.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“Well Max did,” Dustin repeats, like that means something.

Steve frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dustin sighs, dragging a hand through his curls. “She wasn’t answering the door. So we broke in. Well, Max broke in.”

Steve straightens. “What?”

“She wasn’t there.” Dustin stares at him. “We don’t know where she is.”

Steve clenches his jaw. His heart kicks up, just a little. But he forces his expression blank, shakes his head. “Maybe she’s just out, busy.”

Dustin scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what we said. But it’s been days.” He crosses his arms. “Don’t act like you don’t care.”

Something sharp flashes in Steve’s chest. “She made it pretty fucking clear she didn’t want me to care.”

Dustin stares at him, unimpressed. “You do care, though.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

Dustin exhales, shaking his head. “We’re family, Steve and she’s going through it. She has every right to go through it, we all do.”

Then he turns and walks out, the bell above the door ringing behind him.

Steve just stands there, alone with his thoughts, his never ending thoughts of you.

---

You haven’t been home in days.

You don’t really know where you’ve been. Mostly your car, parked in empty lots or just outside the Welcome to Hawkins sign, watching the road stretch ahead of you and wondering if you should just go.

Not that you have anywhere to go. You could see your Mother, but she wouldn't welcome you, wouldn't want you there she didn't even want you here.

But the thought lingers anyway. Maybe if you just leave, if you just drive, you’ll feel something other than this.

But you never make it past the sign.

You just sit there, engine humming beneath your hands, watching the road blur under the heat of the sun or the glow of the streetlights. You tell yourself you’ll do it tomorrow or the next day.

But tomorrow comes, and you’re still here. When you finally step inside your apartment, it feels off. You notice it immediately.

The air feels shifted, like someone else has been here. The window is cracked open, the curtain shifting slightly in the breeze.

Your stomach clenches. For a split second, your heart hammers, your body reacting on pure instinct, memories of Starcourt, of things slipping through cracks in the walls, of knowing you weren’t alone even when you should have been.

You see the fingerprints on the dusty window, they're small and then you exhale. Because, of course, it was one of the kids.

You don’t even have to think about it. Max, probably, or Dustin, probably Max. You can see it in your head, the way they must have whispered outside your door, debating who would do it, who would be the one to climb up.

You should be mad. Should be annoyed, normally you would give them shit not for breaking in but for the fact they could’ve gotten hurt, Max would roll her eyes, Dustin would steal some chips. But you’re not, and you don’t, instead you just feel tired.

You press play on your voicemail without thinking.

The first one is from Robin.

“Okay, I don’t know if you’re dead or if you’re just ignoring me, but this is, like, the eighth time I’ve called, and it’s starting to get embarrassing, so, just pick up the phone, alright? Or don’t. Whatever. Just know I miss you, you asshole.”

Click.

The next one is from Nancy.

“Hey. It’s me. I just… wanted to check in. The kids said you weren’t home, and look, just call me, okay? We can talk, I can listen or we can just watch movies, whatever you want.”

Click.

You wait and that's it, nothing from Steve. Of course not. You tell yourself you don’t care because you told Steve you didn’t care. So you don’t. Because its easier to have no one and now you don’t

Then the last voicemail plays, a voice you don’t recognize, older…tired.

“Hello… I, uh. I don’t know if this number is still good, but… this is your aunt, Marlene, we’ve never met, probably never will, anyway I’m calling because—”

A pause, a sigh.

“It’s about your mother. There was an accident. She didn’t make it.”

Silence.

“I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.”

Click and that’s it.

That’s it.

No details. No information. No anything. Just a handful of words from a stranger and a deadline.

You just stand there.

Staring at the phone.

Staring at nothing.

Your mom is dead.

She’s dead.

And you should, what? Care? Be devastated? Something?

You don’t even know how to feel.

She left when you were eighteen. She walked away. You’ve spent years telling yourself she didn’t matter, that you didn’t need her, that you never had her to begin with, not really.

But now she’s gone.

Like, actually gone and the realization crashes into you all at once.

It’s not just about her. It’s not just about your so-called mom. It’s about the fact that she was the last thing connecting you to something else, to anything else.

Now there’s nobody.

Nobody but the people you keep pushing away.

Your breath stutters. Your vision blurs. Your hands tremble, then the dam breaks and you start to cry.

Not the kind of crying that sneaks up on you in the dark, not the kind that you can swallow back, shove down, ignore.

This is something else.

This is everything.

It’s every bad day, every quiet ache, every unspoken word, every time you wanted to scream but didn’t.

It’s Starcourt, it’s the Upside Down, it’s the people you lost, it’s the ones you almost lost, it’s the way you never let yourself grieve because there was never any time.

It’s Steve.

It’s the fight, the words you threw like knives, the way he looked at you, the way he walked away.

It’s all of it and now it’s pouring out of you.

You clutch your own arms, pressing your forehead against the wall, sobbing so hard it hurts and there’s no one here to see it.

No one here to stop it because you made damn sure of that.

---

The thing about loss is that it doesn’t come all at once, it comes in waves. It builds, slowly, creeping under your skin, sinking into the cracks of you, pressing against your ribs like it’s trying to make room and then it drowns you.

That’s what this feels like, you are drowning. Your mother is dead.

She is dead, and she was never a good mother, never really there, but she was something. She existed. She was a person in the world, breathing the same air as you, sharing the same blood as you, the same looks as you and now she’s gone, and it's just you.

You try to imagine her, try to remember the last time you saw her, the last time you heard her voice, but everything is blurry, like looking through a fogged-up window.

You try to imagine what it must’ve been like her last seconds, last thoughts, last breath.

Did she see it coming? Did she think of you? Did she feel afraid? Or was she just gone before she even had the chance?

And why does it matter? She left.

She walked away from you. She built a whole life somewhere else and didn’t once look back.

So why does it hurt so fucking much?

You slide down the wall, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to stop the burning, trying to stop feeling, but it’s everywhere, all at once and for the first time in your life, you understand.

You get it.

This, this weight in your chest, this endless sinking, this exhaustion that has settled into your bones like it belongs there, this was always the ending, wasn’t it?

It was always pointing here. Because what’s left? You have no family. No future.

You lost it at Starcourt. You lost pieces of yourself in the Upside Down, left them rotting between vines and monsters, left them gasping in the smoke-filled air, left them screaming in the neon glow of a mall on fire.

More importantly you lost Steve and that’s the worst part.

Because Steve was the one thing, the one fucking thing, that still felt like home. The one thing keeping you tethered to the idea that maybe, maybe, there was something else.

But you pushed him away.

You pushed all of them away and now there is nothing. There is no one, not even you and that realization shatters something inside you.

You stare at your hands, at your own fingers, at the skin and blood and bones that make up you, and you don’t know what to do with them anymore.

You don’t know what to do with yourself and maybe you don’t have to.

Maybe this is it, maybe this is where it ends. The thought should scare you, but it doesn’t.

It just feels… inevitable.

Like taking a final breath before stepping off a ledge. Like maybe you were always meant to end up here.

You should leave a note, something for Robin. Something for Nancy. Something for the kids but that would take so much work, so much effort, so much time and you don’t have that. It would be better that way for them anyway.

But there’s only one person you want to say goodbye to, only one person you want to hear one last time.

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the phone. You stare at the numbers, stare at the dial tone, at the empty silence waiting on the other end.

You call Steve.

It rings and rings.

And rings.

Just when you think it’s going to go to voicemail because that's what you deserve.

“Hello?”

---

Steve pulls up outside Robin’s house, shifting the car into park but leaving the engine running. The street is quiet, bathed in the dim glow of streetlights, the cicadas humming in the background. Robin leans back in her seat, staring out the windshield, arms crossed over her chest.

They’re both tired.

It’s been a long day. Not bad, just long. A double shift at Family Video, filled with annoying customers and late returns, followed by a long-winded discussion about whether or not The Empire Strikes Back is actually the best Star Wars movie and now, the stillness.

Robin sighs, shifting in her seat. “Sometimes I think we’re gonna work here forever.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh. “You say that like it’s the worst thing ever.”

“It is,” she groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest. “This town is a black hole. People either get out, or they get stuck in the upside or worse, the upside down.”

Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter. He knows that feeling, knows it too well.

Robin turns her head, looking at him. “You ever think about leaving?”

Steve exhales, shrugs. “Sometimes.”

It’s not a lie. He has thought about it. Thought about packing up, driving until Hawkins is just a distant memory in his rearview mirror.

But he never does.

Robin watches him for a second, then shifts. “Have you talked to her?”

Steve’s stomach clenches. He doesn’t need to ask who her is.

His fingers tighten around the wheel. “Drop it.”

Robin frowns. “Steve—”

“I mean it, Robin.” His voice comes out sharper than he intended. “Just drop it.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just watches him, eyes searching. Then… “I heard you, you know.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

Robin tilts her head. “The fight. The night you two screamed at each other in the middle of the street.” She exhales, quieter now. “I heard you.”

Steve’s throat feels tight. “What are you talking about?”

Robin gives him a look. “You told her you love her.”

Steve swallows. Looks away. “As a friend.”

Robin scoffs. “Steve.”

He presses his lips together. Stares at his hands. Finally, quietly, “I know.”

Robin watches him. Something softens in her expression. “How long?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. Forever.” A humorless laugh escapes him. “It’s always been her.”

Robin doesn’t say Jesus, Steve, or I told you so. She just nods and that’s one of the reasons why he loves her. Because she gets it.

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Robin sighs, stretching her arms. “Well. I’m gonna call her tomorrow. Call me if anything happens.”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen.” He gestures vaguely. “Nothing ever happens.”

Robin snorts. “You say that like we don’t live in the most cursed town in America.”

Steve doesn’t laugh.

Robin studies him for a second, then pats his arm. “See you tomorrow, Dingus.”

She hops out, heading inside, and Steve watches her go before pulling away.

He doesn’t know why he feels uneasy. When he gets home, the house is dark, it always is. His parents are gone, they’re always gone and he's always alone. He steps inside, kicking off his shoes, running a hand through his hair.

The phone starts ringing.

Steve frowns, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t expecting a call. Robin just got home, Dustin’s probably passed out.

He pauses, walks over to the phone. Picks up the receiver.

“Hello?”

Silence.

But not nothing, because he hears it.

The shaky, uneven breathing. The way it hitches, like whoever’s on the other end is trying and failing to hold it together. Like they’re choking on their own sobs.

And Steve knows. “Y/N?” His voice is softer now, careful, like if he says the wrong thing, you’ll disappear.

Nothing. Just more shaky, gasping breaths.

Steve grips the phone tighter, panic creeping into his veins. “Sweetheart, you need to breathe with me, okay? Just, just match my breathing, in and out. Can you do that for me?”

No response.

“Please.” His voice breaks. “Just try.”

He starts breathing, slow and steady, hoping you’ll follow. He knows you can hear it, knows you want to listen, want to do what he’s saying.

But he also knows you’re barely holding on.

Finally, finally a sound. Your voice, small and broken. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Steve’s heart stops then kicks into overdrive.

“Be where?” His voice is urgent now. “Are you home? I’ll come get you. You can come here, you know that, right? You’re always welcome here. No matter what. No matter what happens.”

Silence.

Steve grips the phone so tight his knuckles turn white. “Y/N.”

“My mom’s dead.”

Steve stills. His brain stutters, trying to process the words, trying to make sense of them. “What?”

Your voice wobbles. “Some aunt, Marlene, I think, called me. Said she was in an accident and that was it. That was all she said.”

Steve swallows, running a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

“She didn’t even care enough to tell me anything. Nobody did. I have nobody, Steve.”

His heart hurts.

“That’s not true,” he says immediately. “You have me. You have all of us, no matter what.”

But it’s like you don’t even hear him. Like you’ve already made up your mind and barely above a whisper you repeat, “I just don’t wanna be here anymore.”

And Steve gets it, he sees the picture clear as day now, what here is, where here is. The way you sound, the weight in your voice. It clicks.

His stomach drops. His whole body tenses, panic flooding every inch of him. “Y/N, wait—”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks completely. “I didn’t mean any of it Steve, I’m sorry, I just wanted to say goodbye.”

The line clicks dead.

Steve freezes, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move. He’s in pure shock for a moment. He just stands there, the dial tone ringing in his ear, echoing inside his skull.

Then his body reacts, the phone crashes against the wall. He grabs his keys and then he’s running. Running out the door, into his car, peeling out of the driveway so fast his tires scream.

Because he has to get to you.

Now.

Steve has been scared before.

He’s been terrified.

He’s been chased by things with too many teeth, been tied to a chair in a dark basement with you bleeding beside him, been seconds away from dying more times than he can count.

But this, this is different.

This is a fear that burns, that consumes, that digs its claws into his chest and doesn’t let go.

His heart is racing, slamming against his ribs so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free. His hands are white-knuckled around the wheel as he flies down the streets of Hawkins, barely registering stop signs, barely hearing the sound of his own breathing, all he hears is you.

I don’t wanna be here anymore.

The words play on a loop inside his skull, hitting harder than anything else ever has. Because this isn’t something he can punch, isn’t something he can fight off, this isn’t a near miss, this isn’t luck.

This is you.

Because you are slipping through his fingers and you have been for a year and he cannot lose you. He presses harder on the gas, blowing through a red light, gripping the steering wheel so tightly it aches.

He doesn’t care.

He needs to get to you.

The moment he pulls up outside your apartment, he’s moving. Keys out, door slamming behind him, legs pumping.

He gets to the front entrance, but the door is locked, of course it is.. The buzzer panel is old and rusted, the names next to each button fading, barely legible.

He presses all of them.

One after another, over and over, until finally. “Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up!” A loud buzz, the door clicking open.

Steve shoves inside, taking the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over his own feet in his desperation.

Your door.

His fist slams against the wood, hard enough to make it shake. “Y/N!”

Nothing.

No sound, no movement.

Panic surges up his throat, his body moving before he can even think, he throws his weight against the door.

Once.

Twice.

The wood splinters, the frame cracking.

A third time…the door bursts open.

Steve stumbles inside, chest heaving, eyes scanning the room.

Empty.

The bed is unmade, a glass of water sits half-finished on the counter, clothes are draped over a chair, but you aren’t here.

His heart stutters, his mind is a mess but something makes him remember.

Remember the way you used to sit on the roof when you first moved in, smoking joints and staring at the sky, talking about how it felt good to finally be free.

Steve turns and runs.

The fire escape is cold against his hands as he climbs, metal biting into his palms. He moves fast, too fast, feet slipping once, barely catching himself.

His pulse is pounding in his ears, he doesn’t know what he’s about to find. He just knows it has to be you.

Steve is breathless by the time he reaches the top.

His lungs burn, his legs shake, his chest aches, but none of it matters because there you are, standing at the edge.

The wind pushes against you, lifts your hair, makes you look so small, so fragile, like one wrong step could send you tumbling down and Steve has never been this scared in his entire fucking life.

Not when he was tied to a chair in a Russian bunker, not when a monster the size of a mall came crashing through fire and wreckage, not even when he thought he was going to die in the back of a speeding car, while being chased.

Nothing, nothing has ever been as terrifying as this.

You.

Standing there, staring down at the town like you don’t belong to it anymore. Like you’re already gone.

Steve cannot let that happen. “Hey.” His voice cracks as he steps closer, slow and careful, hands shaking at his sides. “Sweetheart, I need you to step back, okay? Please.”

You don’t look at him.

Your arms are wrapped around yourself, fingers digging into the sleeves of your sweater, like you’re holding yourself together, like you have to hold yourself together because if you don’t, you’ll fall apart completely.

Your voice comes out hollow, quiet. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Steve exhales shakily. “Neither should you.”

Another step.

His heart is beating so fast, too fast, slamming against his ribs, but he keeps moving, keeps going, because if he stops, if he hesitates for even a second he’s afraid he’ll lose you.

“You love this roof.” His voice wobbles, desperate, full of something too big for him to name. “You used to drag me up here, remember? You’d sit up here for hours and tell me about all the places you wanted to go, all the shit you wanted to do.”

You let out a quiet laugh. But there’s no joy in it. No life. Just emptiness. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Look how that turned out.”

Steve’s stomach twists, his throat tightens. His eyes burn and suddenly, he’s angry.

Not at you, never at you but at everything else. At the way the world chewed you up and spat you out. At the way it took and took and took until there was nothing left of you but this, this wreckage of a person who doesn’t even think they deserve to stay.

“You don’t get to do this.” His voice breaks. “You don’t get to fucking leave me, Y/N. You don’t get to decide that you don’t belong here anymore, you don’t get to leave me behind, you dont get to leave us behind.”

Finally you turn to look at him and Steve almost falls apart right there. Because you’re crying, your face is crumpling, your lips are shaking, and your eyes, your beautiful, familiar eyes are so tired.

Like you’ve been carrying this for so long. Like you don’t know how to stop.

“Steve…” Your voice cracks, and something inside of him shatters.

His hands tremble at his sides. His vision blurs. His whole body shakes, and then he’s crying too.

“You can’t do this to me,” he chokes out. “You can’t.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know how to be here anymore, Steve.”

And that’s when he loses it.

“Then let me show you!” His voice breaks, loud and raw, echoing in the empty night air. “Let me fucking show you how, because I can’t—” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, his breath shuddering. “I can’t do this without you.”

You blink at him, startled.

He takes another step, closer now, close enough to touch.

“I don’t know how to be here without you.” His chest heaves. “Do you get that? Do you understand what you fucking mean to me? You think you have nobody? You think you don’t matter? That’s bullshit.”

His hands fly up, gesturing wildly, voice rising, full of so much desperation he feels like he might burst.

“I wake up thinking about you, I go to sleep thinking about you, I—” He lets out a broken laugh, shaking his head. “I have loved you my entire fucking life, and you think you don’t matter? You are the most important person I have ever fucking met, and I will not let you go, do you hear me? If you can’t stay for you, please stay for me, please I’m begging you!”

Your lip trembles, a tear slips down your cheek. “Steve…”

“Come here.” His voice cracks completely now. “Please.”

You hesitate.

For one unbearable second, you hesitate, but then you step back.

Steve moves instantly, closing the space between you, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into his arms, holding you so tight it’s like he thinks you’ll disappear, like you’ll fall off that edge you’re no longer on if he lets go.

You break apart in his arms, you sob and so does he.

His hands clutch at your back, his face presses into your hair, his whole body shakes with the weight of everything he almost lost.

“I got you,” he whispers, over and over, like a prayer, like a promise. “I got you, I got you, I got you.”

Because he does and he always will.

Steve doesn’t let go of you.

Not when he walks you back inside your apartment, not when he eases you onto the couch like you might break, not when he kneels in front of you, hands still gripping your waist like he needs to feel that you’re here, that you’re real.

Your face is pale, eyes red and unfocused, your body limp with exhaustion, but you’re breathing. You’re here.

That’s all that matters.

Steve swallows hard, forces his voice steady. “Is there anything you need right now?”

You blink slowly. “What?”

He squeezes your knee, grounding. “I’m not leaving you alone and you’re not staying here. Not like this. You’re coming with me, okay? You’re coming to my house.*”

You don’t respond.

You just stare at him, like his words are coming from far away, like they’re slipping through cracks in your mind before they can reach you.

So Steve makes the decision for you. He pushes himself up, strides into your room. It’s quiet, untouched, like you haven’t really lived in it for a long time. Like it’s just a place you exist in.

Steve doesn’t think too hard about that.

He grabs the first duffel bag he can find, shoves in some clothes, sweatpants, a hoodie, a couple of T-shirts. Soft things. Comfortable things. Things that won’t make you feel like this. He throws in your toothbrush, doesn’t even bother with anything else.

Then he comes back to you. You haven’t moved. You’re still sitting exactly where he left you, hands resting limply in your lap, eyes distant.

Something in Steve’s chest cracks. He crouches in front of you again, sliding his hands into yours. “Come on, sweetheart.” His voice is soft, careful. “We’re going home.”

You don’t resist, you don’t do anything.

You just let him guide you up, one hand steady on your waist as he walks you down the stairs, out the front door. Your movements are slow, sluggish, like you’re walking through water, like none of this is quite real.

Steve doesn’t say anything.

He just opens the car door for you, helps you sit, pulls the seatbelt over your shoulder and buckles you in like you can’t do it yourself.

You don’t react. You just sit there, head lolling slightly against the seat, staring blankly out the window.

Steve clenches his jaw, swallows down the lump in his throat, he gets in and drives. It’s late. The roads are empty.

Steve’s hands are tight around the steering wheel, but his eyes keep flickering to you, watching your hands twitch in your lap, watching the slow, shallow rise and fall of your chest.

He doesn’t let himself think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t answered the phone. If he took the long way back to his house from Robin’s like he was planning to but eventually decided not to.

If he hadn’t gotten to you in time, if he didn’t run that red light. He can’t think about that. He just focuses on the road. When he pulls up outside his house, you still don’t move.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate. He gets out, walks around to your side, opens the door, and reaches for you. “Come on, honey.” His voice is gentle, coaxing.

You let him help. You move like you don’t know how, like your body is detached from your mind, like none of this is real.

Steve guides you inside, one hand on your back, the other still gripping the duffel bag.

For once he's truly, truly thankful his parents are never home because he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix any of this, but he knows you don’t need anyone else right now.

Just him.

You’re eventually in his room, the room is still littered with the pictures on the wall, ones of you, of Robin, of all of them.

You stop.

Your eyes land on a photo of you and Steve, from years ago, arms draped around each other, laughing. You stare at it, your lip trembles again, before you can stop it, before you even understand why a single tear slips down your cheek.

Steve sees it without thinking, without hesitating he reaches out and wipes it away. His fingers are warm, gentle against your skin.

His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You don’t respond. Steve exhales, nodding like he expected that. “You hungry?”

You shake your head.

“You wanna shower?”

No.

“Sleep?”

A pause.

But then you nod, Steve moves without thinking, pulls back the covers. Helps you sit, then eases you down, hands steady on your arms.

He tucks you in, He doesn’t remember the last time he tucked you in, maybe some stupid drunken night but it feels right, it feels needed.

The second the blankets are around you, you turn on your side, staring at the closet door, silent tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

Steve watches you for a long moment, then he turns off the light and sits. There’s a chair in the corner of his room, and he sinks into it, his legs bouncing, hands gripping the arms like he needs to hold on to something.

His mind races, he should call Robin. She’ll know what to do or Nancy. Probably both.

But then a sound pulls him out of his head a small, broken gasp. Steve’s head snaps up, you’re shaking. Your body is trembling under the blankets, breath hitching, sharp and uneven.

“Y/N?”

You don’t answer, Steve doesn’t think he never really has with you, he just moves.

Crosses the room, kneels beside the bed. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay, I’m here—”

Then you reach for him. Without a word, without thinking, you turn and latch onto him, burying your face in his chest, gripping his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you here.

Steve freezes, because you don’t do this. You haven’t held him like this since last Summer, since the fire, since he started losing you.

But you’re sobbing now, whole body shaking, fingers digging into his arms, and Steve, Steve doesn’t care about anything except holding you tighter.

“I got you,” he whispers, one hand sliding into your hair, the other rubbing circles into your back. “I got you, I got you, I got you, I’ll always have you.

You cry harder and Steve stays, he always will.

He holds you, presses his cheek against the top of your head, murmuring soft reassurances, ”It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, the sobs fade and you fall asleep in his arms.

Steve exhales, tightens his grip and lets himself fall asleep holding you.

---

Steve wakes up to the sun peeking through his blinds. For a second, he forgets. For a second, it’s just morning, and everything is normal. Then he looks down, your hand is in his. Your fingers curled around his like you were afraid to let go even in sleep.

Steve exhales, throat tight, when his mind races with what happened 12 hours ago, the phone call, the drive, the roof. The way you had looked at him, like you were already gone, in a way you were.

His chest clenches. He carefully shifts his hand, running his thumb over the back of yours, grounding himself in the fact that you’re here. That you’re breathing.

The alarm clock blinks 10:02 AM.

Shit.

He was supposed to be at work two minutes ago.

Robin was opening, but he was supposed to be there and that’s obviously not happening. Steve glances at you, you’re still asleep.

He’s shocked, honestly. You never sleep this late, but judging by the dark circles under your eyes, you haven’t been sleeping much at all.

You look exhausted and the thought of waking you up, of pulling you out of whatever rest you’ve finally found, it feels wrong. So he doesn’t.

Instead, he carefully shifts out from under you, wincing when the mattress creaks, moving slowly so he doesn’t wake you. His chest aches as soon as he’s no longer touching you.

But you’re safe. You’re here. That’s all that matters. He makes sure the window is shut, leaving the bedroom door open.

Then he heads downstairs, goes straight to the phone, and dials Family Video.

It rings twice before Robin picks up. “Family Video, what do you want?”

“Robin.”

Something in his voice must tip her off, because she immediately straightens. “What?”

Steve presses a hand over his eyes. “I can’t come in today.”

Robin scoffs. “Yeah, no shit, Harrington, I figured that when you weren’t here—”

“Robin.” His voice breaks a little.

That’s when she really hears it. “Steve?” Her voice is different now. Quieter. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Steve lets out a slow, shaky breath. “No.”

Robin’s whole demeanor shifts. “Talk to me.”

Steve grips the phone tighter. “It’s Y/N.”

A pause.

”What happened?”

Steve doesn’t even know how to say it, it hurts to think about it, he can’t even imagine saying it but It all comes spilling out, rushed, like if he doesn’t say it fast, it’ll swallow him whole.

“She called me last night. She—” His breath hitches. “Robin, she said she didn’t wanna be here anymore.”

Silence.

”In Hawkins?”

Steve swallows hard. “No, I got to her apartment, and she wasn’t there, so I ran up to the roof, and—” His voice wobbles. “She was on the edge, Robin. She was just… standing there.”

Robin exhales sharply. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah.”

Robin is silent for a moment, like she’s trying to process it. ”Where is she now?”

“Sleeping upstairs.”

Robin’s breath catches. “Oh my God.”

Steve swallows. “She barely said anything, but she—she let me take her home. I—I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t leave her alone, I wouldn’t.”

Robin is quiet for a moment.”You did the right thing.”

“Did I?” His voice breaks completely. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Robin. I don’t know what to do with this. What do I do?”

Robin sighs. “We just… we just have to be there. That’s all we can do.”

Steve shakes his head. “What if it’s not enough?”

Robin’s voice is softer now. “It is.”

Steve lets out a breath.

“You’re staying with her, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”* Robin hesitates. “I’ll stop by after my shift, okay? And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You did good.”*

Steve exhales, pressing his forehead against the wall. “Thanks, Robs.”

They hang up.

And Steve stands there, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe. Steve keeps staring at the phone for a long time before he dials again.

His hands shake, his stomach churns. He doesn’t want to call Nancy. Doesn’t want to say it out loud again. Because saying it makes it real.

He dials the Wheeler house.

It rings once.

Twice.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Wheeler residence, where Mike Wheeler is far too cool to be answering the phone, at ten in the morning on a flipping Saturday—”

Steve exhales sharply, already done with this. “Mike—”

”—but because I’m a good son, I—”

“Mike, shut the hell up and put Nancy on the phone.”*

There’s a pause.

”Jesus, what crawled up your ass?”

Steve clenches his jaw, his voice cracks. “Mike, I swear to God—”

Mike must really hear his voice. The tightness in it. The way it’s shaking.

Because his whole attitude shifts.

“Oh, shit.”*

Steve exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get Nancy, man.”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a clatter on the other end, probably Mike throwing the phone down instead of setting it down like a normal person.

“NANCE! IT’S STEVE! SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

Steve closes his eyes.

Waits.

“Steve?”

Nancy’s voice is firm. No hesitation, no teasing, no bullshit, just Nancy, in that way she always is when she knows something is serious.

Steve swallows hard. “I need your help.”

“Is everything okay?”

Nancy’s voice is sharp, cutting through the haze in his head, and Steve grips the phone so tight his knuckles turn white.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Because no. No, nothing is okay.

But if he says that, if he admits it, then it’s real. Then it’s another thing he doesn’t know how to fix, another problem too big for him to hold.

Nancy exhales. “Steve.”

He swallows. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice softens. “What happened?”

Steve drags a hand down his face, fingers tangling in his hair, heart hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from his ribs. “I need your help, Nance. I—” His voice wobbles, cracks right down the middle, and he hates it, hates the way it makes him sound small, like he’s fucking helpless. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nancy’s quiet for a second, and he can picture her, can see the way she’s probably standing in the kitchen, hand on her hip, brows furrowed, that look she gets when she’s thinking, when she’s trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together before she says anything.

“I need more information than that, Steve.”

Her voice is firm but not impatient. Grounding.

Steve exhales, leans his forehead against the wall, and forces the words out.

“Y/N called me last night.”

He hears Nancy shift on the other end, like she’s bracing.

“She—” He stops, presses his lips together, his throat burning. “She didn’t wanna be here anymore, she said goodbye, then I went to her place. She was on the roof…she was at the edge.”

Silence.

Not the bad kind. The kind that means something. The kind that sits heavy, like a weight neither of them know how to hold.

Nancy exhales. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Yeah.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Where is she now?”

“Upstairs. In my bed. Sleeping.”

Nancy doesn’t respond right away. When she does, her voice is careful. “Is she okay?”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh, swiping at his face. “No.”

Nancy doesn’t tell him everything’s going to be fine, doesn’t try to downplay it. That’s the thing about her, she knows better.

“What happened?” she asks instead. “Start from the beginning.”

Steve tells her. Not all of it. Not the ugly parts, the parts that make his head spin and his stomach clench, the parts that feel too big to say out loud. But enough, the phone call. The way you sounded.

The way he drove like his life depended on it because it did, because yours did. Breaking down your fucking door. Running up the fire escape like a maniac. Finding you on the edge of the roof. The begging. The way he almost lost you. The way he doesn’t know what the fuck to do now.

Nancy listens, doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tell him to calm down or to breathe or to stop blaming himself, even though she probably should.

”You did the right thing, Steve.”

He laughs, shaky, rubbing at his chest. “Then why does it feel like I fucked it all up?”

“This is a traumatic event for you too Steve, it's okay to feel like this.” Nancy sighs. “Also because you’re not used to not being able to fix things.”

That shuts him up. Because yeah. Yeah, maybe that’s exactly it.

Steve has never been the smartest person in the room, never been the leader, not even with a bunch of children, never been the one with the answers.

But when it comes to his people? That’s all he has.He takes care of them. All of them.

Robin, Dustin, the rest of the kids, he makes sure they eat, makes sure they get home safe, makes sure they have someone to call when shit hits the fan. You, he never truly had to worry about you before, you were always the one looking after him, but now it's you he has to worry about and he doesn’t know how to take care of you and it’s fucking killing him.

Nancy exhales through the receiver. “She’s safe. She’s alive. That’s because of you, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, blinking up at the ceiling. “I don’t wanna overwhelm her. But I don’t—” His voice cracks again. “I don’t know what to do, Nance. What do I do?”

Nancy is quiet for a moment. ”For now you just have to be there. I’ll talk to my Mom, vaguely for some advice to see what's best for her, okay?”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Because that’s what Robin said.

And if they’re both saying it, if they’re both telling him that’s all he can do, maybe it’s true. Nancy sighs, softer now. “Do you want me to come over?”

Steve hesitates. He does, in a way. Wants someone else to carry this weight with him, to know what to do when he doesn’t. But then he thinks about you.

Thinks about how fragile you looked, about the way you latched onto him like you couldn’t breathe without him, like he was the only thing keeping you here and he knows you’re going to wake up soon.

He also knows that when you do, the only person you’ll be able to handle right now is him.

So he shakes his head, even though Nancy can’t see him. “No. Not yet.”

Nancy hums, understanding. “Okay.”

Another pause.

”Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing the best you can.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Steve hangs up the phone.

Exhales.

Runs a hand down his face, trying to ground himself, trying to press himself back into reality, back into here and now, instead of spiraling down the endless, clawing tunnel of what-ifs.

He hears footsteps. Turning and there you are.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, still wrapped in the hoodie he gave you last night, sleeves too long for your hands, eyes swollen from crying, face pale with exhaustion.

Steve freezes and you freeze, too. Like neither of you know what comes next because you never planned on living another day.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”

Your voice is small. Unsteady. Like a fragile thread holding something much bigger, much darker in place.

Steve’s stomach clenches. “Don’t apologize.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, the second it does, Steve moves, stepping forward, closing the space between you, hands twitching at his sides because he wants to grab you, wants to hold you, but he doesn’t know if you’ll let him.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Steve’s heart cracks. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head harder. “Yes, there is. There has to be, because—” You swallow, breath stuttering, hands clenching at your sides. “Because normal people don’t feel like this, Steve. Normal people don’t wake up and immediately want to disappear. Normal people don’t have this…this thing inside them, this voice, this…this lingering urge in the back of their head telling them it’d be easier to just stop existing, to, to jump off a roof.”

Steve’s chest is aching. But you’re not done.

You look up at him, eyes desperate, pleading, breaking. “I don’t know what to do.” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know how to make it stop and I’ve been horrible, and I am horrible, and I hate myself, Steve, I fucking—” Your breath hitches, coming out as a choked sob. “I hate myself so much I can’t breathe sometimes.”*

Steve doesn’t know he’s crying until he feels the tears slip down his cheeks. He can’t hear you talk like this. He can’t.

Because every single word is a knife to his gut, every single syllable is a lie, and he wants to grab you and shake you and make you see what he sees.

“I know you don’t get it,” you whisper. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, because—because you’re you. You’re Steve Harrington. You’re—” You gesture vaguely, helplessly. “You’re warm, and you’re good, and you take care of people, and everybody loves you—”

You stop yourself. Let out a broken laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t even think I know how to be loved.”

And that’s it.

That’s the thing that ruins him.

Because fuck that.

Fuck that so much.

Steve moves, grabbing you, pulling you into him so hard it knocks the breath out of both of you, wraps his arms around you tightly and then, into your hair, into your skin, into everything that makes you, you.

“I love you.”

You go rigid.

But Steve just holds you tighter.

“I love you.”

Your fingers twitch.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The words pour out of him, over and over, as many times as it takes, like maybe if he says them enough, they’ll sink into your skin, they’ll push out all the other shit, they’ll replace the darkness with something real.

Your hands fist into the fabric of his shirt, your body shakes, and then you’re sobbing into his chest, shaking your head like you don’t believe him, like you can’t believe him.

“Stop,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Stop saying that.”

“No.” Steve holds you tighter, presses his lips against your temple, voice breaking. “No, because it’s true, and I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe it, I’m gonna say it until you do.”

You let out a choked noise.

“I love you,” Steve says again, firm this time, steady. “I love you, and you are not alone, and you don’t have to do this by yourself, I won't let you ever again even try to, and I swear to God, Y/N, if you ever try to leave me again, I—” His voice cracks, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, to force you to see him. “I can’t lose you.”

Your eyes are wet and wide, you stare at him like you’re searching for something, like you’re waiting for him to take it back. But he won’t, he never will. He means it.

And you must see that, must feel it, because your face crumples completely, and then you’re gripping him, burying yourself against his chest, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever held onto something so tightly in his entire life.

He rocks you slowly, his hands smoothing over your back, his lips pressed against your temple, murmuring soft reassurances between your ragged, gasping breaths.

“I got you. I got you, sweetheart. I got you.”

----

It’s been weeks.

Weeks of slow, steady progress.

Weeks of Steve picking you up every morning, weeks of phone calls where he doesn’t hang up until he knows you’re okay, weeks of sleep overs between your apartment and his house, weeks of always having him, or Robin or Nancy with you, weeks of him refusing to let you retreat back into yourself.

Weeks of driving you all the way to the city because he found a doctor there, one that actually listens, one that doesn’t look at you like you’re broken beyond repair.

Weeks of new medication, of trying something different, of slowly, so slowly, feeling the weight in your chest start to lift.

It’s not perfect. You still have bad days. You still have moments.

But for the first time in the last year and a half, you don’t feel so alone, and you don’t want to be alone. Steve has everything to do with that.

There have been more hangouts, more time spent with the group.

Movie nights at Steve’s where Robin falls asleep halfway through and Dustin talks over the entire thing.

Arcade trips where Max beats everyone at everything.

Long afternoons at Steve’s pool, Steve sitting at the edge with his eyes never leaving you, while Lucas and Erica fight over the floaties.

You’ve started laughing again. Really laughing.

And Steve…god. Steve looks at you every time, like it’s the best sound he’s ever heard because to him it is.

Tonight, it’s just the two of you. Back on your roof. Steve had been hesitant at first, for obvious reasons but you told him it was different now. That you just wanted to be here with him, so of course he went up with you. He would go anywhere with you.

You’re lying flat on your backs, side by side, looking up at the stars. The night is warm, a soft breeze cutting through the air.

Things feel light.

Steve exhales. “We should leave.”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. “What?”

He gestures vaguely at the sky. “Hawkins. The whole damn town. Just… pack up and go. Start fresh.”

You snort. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Steve hums. “Maybe.”

You glance back up, staring at the stars. “Where would we even go?”

Steve shrugs. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere with a beach.”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “You just want an excuse to wear those tiny-ass swim trunks.”

Steve grins. “Obviously.”

Silence settles between you, not uncomfortable.

Just there.

A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have been able to sit in this kind of quiet without your own thoughts eating you alive. Now it’s just nice.

You turn your head again, you look at Steve. Really look at him.

The way the soft glow of the stars reflects in his eyes. The way his hair curls slightly at the ends. The way his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something but stops himself.

And you, you know. You always have. So you sit up, take a deep breath and say it, finally say it.

“I love you.”

Steve goes completely still.

His eyes snap to yours, wide and disbelieving. “What?”

Your heart is pounding, but you don’t look away. “I love you.”

He blinks. “Like… like a friend?”

You shake your head. “No.” A slow breath. “It’s always been more.”

Steve sits up, his whole body frozen.

His voice is barely there when he says, “Then why, why didn’t you ever—”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “Because I don’t deserve you, Steve.”

His face.

God.

His whole expression crumples, like those words actually hurt him.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please, don’t say that.”

You swallow, glancing down at your lap. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.” Steve shakes his head, firm, unwavering. “You deserve the world, llease let me give it to you.”*

Your eyes snap up to meet his, he means it. You can see it all over him. Your chest aches. “How long?” you whisper. “How long have you—”

Steve laughs, shaky, rubbing a hand over his face. “As long as I can remember.” He swallows. “It’s always been you. But I didn’t think—I didn’t think I could have you.”*

Your breath catches. “I have a lot of baggage, Steve.”

Steve nods, lips pressing together. “I know.”

You exhale. “My family—I don’t have anyone else, it would be too much.”

“You’re could never too much, you’re everything to me.”.His eyes shift, his whole body tense, voice so sure when he says, “Fuck our families. We created our own.”*

Your throat tightens.

“We have those kids.”

A pause.

“We have Robin.”*

A beat.

“We have each other.”

You suck in a breath. Your whole body feels electric, like you’re standing on the edge of something huge, something you never thought you’d let yourself have.

“Did you really mean it?” Your voice comes out small, barely there, but it’s the only thing that exists in this moment.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate.

“God, I mean it with every bone in my body.”

You blink up at him, at the way his eyes burn with it, at the way his hands shake just slightly like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. “Okay.”

Steve’s breath catches. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to ask you to say it again, to make sure he’s not dreaming. “Okay?”

You nod, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. “Okay.”

For the first time in almost two years, something settles in your chest. Something warm, something good.

Steve is still watching you like you might disappear, like he doesn’t believe this is happening, like he’s waiting for you to take it back.

Softly he asks. “Can I kiss you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s scared of the answer.

You let out a small, trembling laugh, feeling something inside of you crack wide open. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Then it’s happening.

Slow.

Hesitant.

Both of you leaning in, eyes fluttering shut, waiting, waiting, waiting until his lips meet yours.

It’s soft, careful, like he’s terrified of breaking you, like he’s afraid of moving too fast, of doing this wrong.

But then you melt into him and Steve sighs against your lips, like he’s been holding his breath for years and only now is he finally letting it out.

His hands cup your face, fingers threading into your hair, and you press closer, tilting your head, letting yourself fall. Steve deepens the kiss, slow and steady, and it’s….It’s everything.

Everything you didn’t think you deserved. Everything you almost let slip away. Everything you never let yourself want until now.

You pull back, just barely, enough to feel his breath against your lips, enough to see the way he’s looking at you.

Like you hung the stars in the sky, like he’s been waiting for this. Like he’s been waiting for you and well he has.

“I’ve always dreamed of this,” Steve whispers, thumb stroking your cheek, his voice thick with something that makes your chest ache. “I’ve always dreamed of you.”

Your throat tightens. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

Because fuck, you almost never had this.

You almost left this and him behind.

The thought of it makes your stomach turn, makes your fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt, because how close were you?

How close were you to never having this? To never seeing him look at you like this, to never knowing what it’s like to feel this wanted, this safe, this loved?

“Thank you Steve, for everything.”

Steve shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“Don’t thank me, please.” His voice is quiet, breathless. “I’d do anything for you.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “I was scared.”

Steve blinks at you, hand still resting on your cheek. “I know.”

You shake your head. “No, I mean—” You close your eyes for a second, gathering the words, feeling them crack inside you like something fragile, something breaking open. “I was scared that if I let myself have this, if I let myself have you that I’d lose you. That one day, you’d wake up and see me the way I see myself and realize I’m not worth it and I wouldn't be able to handle that.”

Steve makes a small, wrecked noise in the back of his throat. His hands tighten their grip on you, like he’s trying to anchor you, like he’s trying to hold onto you physically the way he’s always been trying to hold onto you emotionally.

“You don’t get to say that,” he murmurs, shaking his head, voice raw. “You don’t get to decide that for me. I love you, and you don’t get to tell me that I shouldn’t.”

Your chest hurts, because you now know he means it.

“You’re not losing me, sweetheart.” His voice is so sure, so steady, like there’s not a single part of him that doubts it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your throat is too tight. You shake your head, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “You promise?”

Steve leans in, presses his forehead against yours, breath warm against your skin. “I swear on everything I have.”

The tears slip free. You let out a small, shaky laugh. “I’m glad I stayed.”

Steve exhales sharply, almost brokenly, his whole body tensing against you. “I’m glad I made you stay.”

The weight of it all, of everything settles between you. The nights you almost didn’t make it. The fights, the pain, the loneliness and the fact that despite all of it, despite how close you were to falling off the edge, despite how many times you tried to push him away, Steve is still here.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid of ruining this moment.

You let out a trembling laugh. “Please.”

He’s kissing you again, harder this time, less hesitant, less careful because now he knows you’re not slipping away.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head, deepening it, like he’s pouring everything into this kiss, like he’s making up for all the times he didn’t do this sooner.

When he pulls back, his forehead stays pressed against yours. His breath is warm, uneven, like he’s trying to memorize this moment, like he’s afraid to move too fast and wake up from a dream he’s spent years convincing himself he’d never have.

“I love you,” he breathes, voice thick with something raw, something unshakable. His hands tremble slightly where they cradle your face, his thumbs skimming over your cheekbones like he needs proof that you’re real. “God, I love you so much.”

This time you don’t just hear it, you feel it deep in your bones, in the spaces that have always felt empty, in the cracks you were sure no one could ever fill.

You let out a breath, shaky and light, something breaking open inside you in the best possible way. You lean in, pressing your lips to his once, twice, slow and lingering, just because you can.

“I love you Steve Harrington.”

His whole body sags with relief, like those words physically hold him together, like he was holding onto a ledge and you just pulled him back up.

Steve laughs softly, shaking his head, pressing another kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice full of something so devastatingly tender it makes your chest ache, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

You close your eyes, resting against him, breathing him in, letting the moment settle deep into your skin.

So softly it’s barely above a whisper. “I think I do.”

Steve pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, eyes shining in the dim light, searching for something but whatever it is, he must’ve found it.

Because he smiles, slow and sure, before leaning in again, pressing his lips to yours like a vow, unspoken, unwavering, forever.

The world is quiet, the night stretching endlessly around you, but here, in this moment, there is only him. Only the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, the way he holds you and you finally believe you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[chrisbesitos]

Chris being in a horrible mood which younger!reader makes better (fluff or bj)

Chris got home in a terrible mood after being out the whole day, busy with meets about his job with his brothers and his own brand. You were in his room, he texted you an hour ago saying he'll be home in ten minutes, but it's been an hour already. You patiently wait for him, sitting on his desk chair playing Stardew Valley on his computer, babbling the song playing on your earphones when Chris abruptly opens the door, hitting them against the wall. You jump on the chair, taking your earphones out and staring at him in shock.

"Damn, you scared me!" You say, your eyebrows frowned and a pouty formed in your lip. Chris just huffs, sitting on the bed and tugging his shoes off without saying anything. He got home and did not even give you a kiss after not seeing you the whole day, this kinda annoyed you. "What's wrong?" You ask, noticing something clearly wrong.

"Nothing's wrong. Go back to your game, I'm gonna shower." He hums, lifting his body from the bed and walking to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You hate when he treats you like this when he's in a bad mood, even though you're kinda mean with him when you're in a bad mood, but he never complains.

After a couple minutes, you have already turned the computer off and now you're waiting for Chris in the bed, with your eyebrows frowned in an irritated face. Chris got out of the bathroom, his naked torso filled with water droplets, the towel around his neck while he dries his hair. You're trying to keep your angry mood with him, but it's impossible when he's standing all hot in front of you. You bite your lower lip, crossing your legs under the covers.

"What are pouting for now, huh?" Chris asks, throwing the towel on the desk chair. He climbs on the bed, crawling to be by your side. You didn't answer him, just turn your look to the TV, the TV who's turned off. Chris groans, rolling his blue eyes. "C'mon, Y/N. I had a terrible day and now you're acting like this just because I didn't give you a kiss?" You shake your shoulders.

"And you scared me when you slammed the door." You murmur, turning your look to Chris, who's laying on his stomach rubbing his eyes, he looks tired. "Just talk with me! You had a bad day? Okay, then talk with me, I'll help you too feel better. Jus' don't take it on me." You hit your lap with your hands, sighing frustrated. Chris nods, lifting his head to put his arms under and laying down again on them after.

"Fine, I'm sorry." He murmurs. He takes a deep and sharp breath. "First, I'm having this pouting headache since morning, like nonstop and is killing me. I have meetings all day, just a little break for lunch and when I finally thought I could go home, they told me they forgot to talk about something and I had to go back. I had a shitty day and sorry if I take this on you, I just. . . Uh." Chris groans. You heard his rant about his day rubbing his hair with your fingertips, your short nails scratching his scalp trying to help with his headache. You feel a little bad for acting clingy before.

"I'm sorry, baby. I really do." You say, leaning your body to kiss your forehead. Your warm puffy and pink lips pressed against his painful head, Chris closes his eyes. "There's something I can do for you?" You whisper, moving your hand from his head to his cheek, brushing your thumb on his skin.

"Just stay with me." He whispers, without opening his eyes, because the light was making his head hurt more. You nod, but before you climb out of the bed and walk until the bathroom, looking for painkillers for Chris in the bathroom cabinets. You walk back to the bed, reaching for your water bottle on the nightstand, you tap Chris shoulder. "Thank you." He mumbles, after taking the medicine for his painful head.

"You want to eat something? I can make you. . ." You say, but Chris cuts you.

"Doll, I just need you. I just want you to lay with me." Chris says, giving you a small smile. You nod, climbing on the bed and putting yourself — and Chris — under the blanket, you lay on your stomach next to your boyfriend. You rub his back with your fingertips, your head rested on his shoulder while you listen to his lightly snores. You smile, closing your eyes slowly stopping the caress on his back, falling asleep with him.

꩜ chérie's notes: im still not confident enough to post another smut, so i still gonna write only fluff and angst, sorry lol :b but i hope you like it <3

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo @sophand4n4 @sturniololetstrip2 @zayluvss @sturnsmia @sofieeeeex @ifwdominicfike @planettori @jetaimevous @leclecwifey16 @mattswifeyx @joclyn240 @voqueflms @pepsicola-pussy @sturnobsessedwh0re @chrissturnioloswifeee @sturniolossss @imonlyhereformattfluff @sturniolosluttt

masterlist. | taglist.

[drmaddict]

Bunny Prince

Summary: When Aegon tangles with a playful sorcerer, his life is turned upside down for once. It was nice that his wife still loved him, but how was he supposed to be any kind of respectable as a bunny-prince?

Word count: 2.261

Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut (mostly humping), use of (y/n)

Inspiredby this: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGde3RFYN/

Aegon acts before he thinks. Always had. His impulse control was simply non-existent. But he was lucky that his wife usually took care of that by now. She distracted him or stopped him. She made sure that he calmed down and was busy enough, not to do anything stupid.

Alicent was so happy about this, that she made sure that her new daughter-in-law's every wish was read from her lips.

But even she had her limits. At some point, Aegon was without her. No matter how much he became attached to her and sought her closeness.

At some point, like today for example, his friends dragged him back to flee bottom. Where he drank. Not exactly a little. Where he partied. Not exactly quiet. Where he messed with someone. Someone who had his own sense of humour. With a sorcerer, that is.

The very same one looked at Aegon, who was drunkenly mocking him, and playfully tapped him on the nose.

"Don't worry little bunny. I know exactly what you are." He smacked the heel of his hand against Aegon's forehead. He staggered back. His head suddenly went completely blank. His companions caught him. He hung limply in their arms.

"Let's show the world what you really are. Because it's definitely not a dragon." The sorcerer laughed and blew a powder in Aegon's face. "Sweet dreams."

No one knew what they could do. The maesters realised immediately, that this wasn't their job and the priests didn't even know such a thing was possible.

(Y/n) sat next to her husband on the bed and looked at him, as he looked at himself in a mirror in shock.

"I can never be around people again.", he whispered in shock.

"Aegon it's not-"

"I'm going to be a laughing stock!", he groaned and threw the mirror away.

She stroked his back reassuringly. "You're still the prince."

"I have bunny ears (y/n)! Bunny ears!", he shouted.

She couldn't deny it. The long ears were impossible to miss. They stuck out towards the back. (Y/n) vividly remembered that this was a sign of stress.

"And I love you anyway.", she said simply and kissed him on the nose.

He grimaced slightly, but immediately refrained from doing so, as he suspected it would only make him look more like a bunny. Annoyed, he fell back into bed.

"Ow!", he groaned as he landed wrong on one of his new ears.

"At least you'd have time to attend to your studies now.", Aemond jested, just as (Y/n) entered the room.

Aegon tried to ignore him. And yet, annoyed, he reached for a goblet of wine. He had barely put it to his lips when he threw it away, grimacing and holding his nose.

"What's wrong?", (Y/n) asked immediately, alarmed.

Aegon shook his head, as if trying to shake something off. "It burns.", he whimpered.

"The wine?"

He nodded.

They heard Aemond laugh. "Is your little nose too sensitive?"

Aegon's gaze darkened. Suddenly he stomped one foot on the ground with full force. Shocked, Aegon looked at his own foot.

"Aemond, we'll see you later.", said (Y/n), who saw how upset Aegon looked.

He just kept laughing.

"Get out!" shouted Aegon. Stomping his foot again.

(Y/n) went to Aemond and quickly pulled him out of the room. It was nice to finally see him laugh, but this really wasn't the best situation for it. She closed the door and turned back to Aegon. He was already curled up on the bed with his hands over his eyes. His body was shaken by little sobs.

She pulled his head onto her lap. Carefully positioning his ears in a comfortable position.

"Shh."

"I'm pathetic."

(Y/n) waited patiently in her chambers for Aegon. She had all but urged him to fly out with Sunfyre. The two needed each other. It would help him m, to feel more like himself again. He had withdrawn. Since Aemond had surprised him, he hadn't let anyone but (Y/n) and his mother see him.

Time with his dragon was what he needed now.

He had hidden his hair, and therefore his ears, under a cap when he had left the room. That had been several hours ago now. Here and there she saw Sunfyre flying over the rooftops of the city, performing playful loops and turns. She smiled.

Aegon came through the door to her in a better mood and kissed her briefly on the lips. He grabbed some of his clothes and was on his way out again.

"Where are you going?", she asked, confused. First you couldn't get him out of the room and now he didn't want to stay?

"I stink of dragon. I'm going for a bath."

"You usually bathe here."

"I'll be right back."

"Aegon... What's wrong?"

"I just want to bathe alone, like always!", he groaned, annoyed, and pushed his foot into the floor again. He groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes at this new reflex.

She nodded. She didn't want to push him any further. "I'm sorry. Of course. You're right." She didn't want to spoil his good mood right away.

He nodded and disappeared, probably into his private room.

When he returned, he hesitantly sat down next to her. "You're sad.", he realised.

She sighed. "It's okay.", she smiled bravely. "It's just...," she started. "Well, since we've been married, there hasn't been a day when you haven't walked around this room shamelessly naked. You've never fussed with those robes... You never holed yourself up on the other side of the bed. You liked to bathe here and let me wash your hair." She looked at his worried face. "I understand that all this is weighing on you, but... I miss you, too.", she confessed quietly.

Aegon pressed his lips together and nodded in understanding. He reached for her hand.

"I don't exactly feel... well, like a husband, at the moment.", he confessed, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. "I just tried to hide, what I can hide."

She looked at him in irritation.

He sighed. "I don't know, if we'll ever find a solution to this dilemma... All right."

He stood up and turned his back to her.

"Aegon?"

"I forbid you to laugh.", he pressed out and unfastened the cloth belt around his robe.

The fabric fell down his back. She gently scrutinised the muscles beneath the milky skin. Her gaze travelled downwards, where she expected to see his rump, strong from dragon riding, but before she got there, she saw something else.

She blinked in surprise. A fluffy puff. A cosy, fluffy puff in the same silvery white as his hair.

Aegon looked over his shoulder. When he saw her staring, he immediately turned round.

"No! Wait! I just... wasn't expecting this."

He threw the robe back on.

"It's cute.", she blurted out.

"I'm not cute!", Aegon insisted and stomped to his feet. "This stupid leg!", he grumbled, ruffling his hair.

"Hey. Hey. Hey." (Y/n) placated him immediately. She pushed him onto the armchair and simply sat on his lap. She stroked his hair. "You're still Prince Aegon. The dragon rider with the strongest bond to a dragon that there ever was." She kissed his forehead. "We'll find a solution to everything else."

Aegon dropped his forehead to the crook of her neck. "Couldn't that damned sorcerer have chosen a more frightening animal?"

"Shh." She kissed the crown of his head. "No one needs to know but me."

"I love you.", he murmured.

"I love you.", she replied.

"Aegon?!"

He sat up jerkily as she nudged him roughly.

He wiped his eyes and, as he had been doing lately, his nose. A quirk that (Y/n) usually found simply endearing.

"What?", he grumbled.

"What do you mean? What?", she huffed. "I thought you were dead!"

He looked at her in astonishment. "I was just asleep."

"And you couldn't be woken up. Were you even breathing? Because it certainly didn't look like it. If you ever do this to me again-"

She felt his lips gently on hers. "I'm fine.", he said simply.

She took a deep breath. "I was scared, okay? Who knows what this spell will do in the long run."

Aegon grumbled. "I thought we knew that by now."

"Now don't be like that." She stroked his head between the ears. He immediately closed his eyes with pleasure. Over the last month, he had adopted more and more of the behaviour of a bunny. He had hyperactive phases. Even more than usual. For half an hour, he was a storm on two legs and would dismantle, albeit accidentally, almost everything in his path and then just fall over and sleep. Sometimes he would lovingly push (Y/n) to get her attention. He enjoyed nothing more than having his ears gently stroked by her. His puff wiggled when he was excited. He munched. He munched his food like a rabbit.

His already high sex drive was boosted to such an extent, that (Y/n) could no longer keep up. By now, whenever he could, he simply lay on top of her and rubbed against her leg, while she read and scratched his head, until he came often enough to fall asleep.

And now, apparently, he slept like the dead.

"You know what I mean.", she grumbled.

He lolled onto the bed. "It's all right.", he mumbled, then suddenly stood up.

Without warning, he put his nose in the crook of her neck and sniffed.

"What are you doing?", she asked in astonishment.

He only let out a pleasurable hum.

He walked in circles around her. He looked at her mischievously, then jumped towards her and knocked them both over so that they landed on the bed.

"I need you.", he whimpered, his eyes suddenly glazed over.

"Aegon?"

"Please." He bit the back of her neck lightly. Sniffed her hair. Licked her skin. "I need you.", he whispered again.

(Y/n) had an inkling of what was to come. But nothing could prepare her for the hours that followed.

Aegon lay absolutely still next to her. He had simply fallen over like a sack.

Hours, the whole night, he had... rammed. There was no other way to put it. He had taken her. Quickly and easily. Over and over and over again. She had got her money's worth, but at some point she had to change things. She had offered him her hand, until even that was sore and he simply rubbed against her leg again. He hadn't been able to form a single word. He lay on top of her. He drooled unhindered against her shoulder, where he had buried himself. Panting, moaning, whimpering. Until at some point he suddenly collapsed and fell asleep.

Now, the next morning, (Y/n) could hardly move. Everything hurt. She was sore and wanted to bathe in ointment when there was a knock at the door. She sighed in annoyance.

She pulled the sheets over herself and at least enough over Aegon's rump to cover his puff.

"What?", she called out.

Someone from the Kingsguard came into the room, saw their condition and immediately turned round. "The... The sorcerer has been found.", he explained. "He is willing to release the spell." He bowed with his eyes closed and left the room.

(Y/n) slapped Aegon awake. The gentle way wasn't going to work anyway.

"What?", the mumbled.

"They found the sorcerer. Get dressed."

They went into a smaller chamber. Aegon made sure to hide his head under a hood.

When they entered the room, the sorcerer was already waiting for them with a grin.

"Hello bunny, how are you?", he grinned. Aegon's foot stomped on the floor. He groaned in annoyance. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but PLEASE undo it."

The sorcerer grinned. "No problem."

He blew a powder in Aegon's face and watched with a smile as he lost consciousness. He didn't bother to help (Y/n) try to catch him.

Aegon recovered after less than a minute of unconsciousness. He grabbed his hair. Not rabbit ears. Normal human ears. His hand shot to his rump. Thank the gods. No puff.

The sorcerer grinned. "All you have to do is ask. If you don't mind my asking." He gestured in the direction of the door.

Aegon simply waved it off and continued to run his hands over his ears.

"Not so fast." Aemond stepped out from a corner. "You attacked a member of the royal family and for that-"

A blast of powder hit him square in the face. No one caught him as he went down.

The sorcerer held out a pouch to Aegon.

"Decide for yourself, when he will be redeemed. I'm leaving the city.", he said casually.

Aegon didn't have the heart to do anything but nod. "Thank you?"

The sorcerer nodded, bowed to (Y/n) and walked away.

They looked back at Aemond.

"Are those whiskers?", asked (Y/n), surprised.

Aegon looked at his little brother. "With ears and a tail to match.", he grinned.

(Y/n) looked at him reprovingly.

"Oh come on.", he sighed

"One week. No longer."

"A month. I had to endure it longer."

"Two weeks. Thats my last word.", she said.

"Fine."

Aemond on the floor opened his eyes, looking sly. Something came out of his throat that sounded almost like the mewing of a kitten.

"This will be the best two weeks of my life.", Aegon grinned.

(Y/n) sighed. "Gods help us."

[gay-dorito-dust]

I love all the things you write for the bat boys! So it just makes me wonder, how would the bat boys react to their partner doing the thing from tiktok where they’re all like “My boyfriend just told me he doesn’t love me anymore” all bc they told them that they couldn’t shop on Amazon anymore? 😂😂😂

I dunno what this was tbh.

Jason

Raises his brow at you the moment you say this, unamused. ‘Says the one who’s spending unnecessary amounts of money on 50cm plushies.’ He retorts.

You huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’ You really wanted that 50cm hello kitty plush but Jason had to pull you away from doing so unfairly.

Jason groaned as he knelt in front of you. ‘Sweetheart, if I could I would give you all the plushies your heart desires, but you’ve got to think we’ve got limited living space and besides you were bound to get annoyed with how much space they take up sooner or later. I’m doing this for us, okay?’ He said as he searched your eyes.

You started at him for a bit before relaxing your arms. ‘Okay.’ You murmured.

Jason smiled, ‘do you take back your statement about me not loving you?’ He asked.

‘I guess.’ You replied, still not looking at him but Jason brought his hand to your chin and gently moved it so that you were stuck staring at him as he smiled at you sweetly. ‘I’ll ask again, do you take back the statement that I don’t love you?’

‘Yes, I take it back.’ You said louder this time. ‘I take back my statement that you don’t love me, I was being dramatic and I’m sorry that’s I’d ever say anything bad about me sweet, handsome man.’ You added when Jason didn’t think you were being honest and decided to butter him up with flattery.

Jason chuckled as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘Flatter won’t get you anywhere sweetheart but I appreciate the attempt, I’ll buy you a plushy for being good as long as you don’t spout such nonsense.’ He hums as he pressed a kiss to your nose before one more against your lips.

‘I promise.’ You said as you closed your eyes, knowing well enough that you could never say such things again when he treated you with nothing but love, respect and willingness to compromise. That and you could never stay mad at him for too long, you didn’t have the heart to.

Dick pouts but still stands strong on his stance.

‘I do love you baby but this has become an addiction, I’m only trying to save you the embarrassment from having your card decline for insufficient funds.’ Dick tells you as though he was helping you break a shitty habit, which you guess he was, but it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t help but buy that one plushy! It looked so lonely and you wanted to give it a home!

‘But, but-‘

‘No buts.’ Dick replied sternly. ‘The plushy would’ve found a better home with that kid that came into the store after us,’ he then squeezed your hand reassuringly, ‘besides i don’t think you really want to Hayley to get to them.’

You winced thinking about how the poor plushies would get torn apart within seconds if Hayley found them, which is why you kept all of your plushies elsewhere while getting Hayley her how set of toys, was it a bit much? Yeah but if it was to make your sweet puppy happy then you’d more than willingly go bankrupt for her just to see her little happy paw tippy taps. ‘I guess you’re right.’ You admitted defeatedly.

‘You hurt my heart when you said I didn’t love you anymore.’ Dick feels you and he brought your hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. ‘You know I love you more than anything, so please don’t go hurting my heart for the sole purpose of loving you without fail.’ You couldn’t help but internally coo at his words and know that realistically he was looking out for you, so you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed with how dramatic you are being, especially over something that you could easily get when Dick wasn’t looking.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him after all.

‘I’m sorry, what can I do to make it up to you.’ You asked as you looked into his pretty eyes.

‘Since you’re offering Preferably some cuddles, kisses and even more kisses from the most beautiful person I know.’ Dick said with a cheeky smile on his face, the little shit had been planning this the entire time, the conniving little fucker and you fell for his trap without much difficulty. And now you were stuck coddling this smug man as he patted himself on the back for getting back at you for being dramatic over some plushy that he may or may not have bought you already.

[ankababy]

A Home (part 17)

Part 1 Part 16 Part 18

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

TW: not even exactly the mention of 🍇, not even a literal hint, just a small part of a sentence that can be read as that. You probably won’t even notice, don’t look for it.

AN: I know that the way to the Beach is way too long and y’all want the Beach already but I promise I know what I’m doing😭 This is needed I promise.

You sighed, holding onto Chishiya’s sleeve, keeping up with their pace as the three of you walked. The butterfly was long forgotten in the distance, but the thought still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. Maybe there’d be more where you were going. Maybe you’d see other little creatures, ones you could stop and admire for a few moments before Niragi crushed them.

You glanced up at him, watching as he twirled his gun around his fingers, his movements careless but precise. The way he handled the thing, the way he loved that damn gun—it made your stomach turn. He had proven exactly how much he enjoyed using it.

Still, it was Niragi.

That was just him.

You’d come to accept it, even if you didn’t like it.

“…Are we playing today?” you asked, voice soft but casual, as if you weren’t asking about potentially risking your life.

“Of course we are.” Niragi said, like it was obvious. Like it was just another part of the day.

You let out a breath, nodding. “Okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything.

Niragi suddenly pushed your head away with his hand, palm against your forehead, laughing.

You stumbled slightly but didn’t fight it, letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll.

“You’re so fucking weird.” he teased.

You pouted, rubbing your forehead.

“I wasn’t even doing anything.” you grumbled, frowning at him.

“Exactly.” he said, tapping your nose with his finger. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You sighed.

Of course Niragi found you entertaining just by existing. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t fight it. Didn’t snap at him, didn’t tell him to leave you alone.

Because, truthfully…you were used to it.

You didn’t actually mind it.

Not when he was like this.

Not when he was touching you without hurting you.

You could handle Niragi when he was annoying.

It was better than when he was violent.

Chishiya exhaled sharply beside you, clearly unamused, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than usual before he looked ahead again.

You didn’t ask what he was thinking.

You probably didn’t want to know.

“Come on.” Niragi said, throwing an arm over your shoulders again and tugging you along, as if you weren’t already walking.

And you just… let him.

You always would.

~

Your feet ached. Every step sent a dull pulse of pain through your legs, and the sun, hanging low in the sky, cast long shadows across the empty streets. You had been walking the whole day, without stopping, without food, without water, and it was finally getting to you.

You never complained.

Not really.

But right now?

You let out a soft, pathetic whine, dragging your feet as you trailed behind them. “I’m hungry…”

Nothing.

They heard you. You knew they did.

You could see Niragi’s shoulders tense slightly ahead of you, could see the way Chishiya’s head tilted just a fraction, but neither of the responded.

“I’m thirsty.” you tried again, slower this time, like they needed to understand the severity of the situation.

Still nothing.

You huffed, rubbing at your face. “…I’m tired.”

Niragi finally turned. And he looked at you like you were the most annoying thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “You’re always tired.”

Your pout deepened. “Because I never get to rest!” you whined, arms swinging at your sides. “We’ve been walking all day—without stopping!”

“And?” Niragi said, mocking. “What, you want me to carry you again?”

You paused.

Blinking.

Because well—

Now that he mentioned it…

He barked out a laugh at the look on your face, grinning. “Oh, no. No way.” He turned forward again, continuing on like you weren’t suffering. “I already did that shit once. You get one.”

You sighed, dragging your feet harder now, like they’d feel bad and slow down.

They didn’t.

You tried again.

“Chishiya…” you called, more hopeful this time, speeding up slightly to get closer to him.

But he didn’t even look at you.

“I’m not carrying you either.” he said simply.

You let out a dramatic groan. “I wasn’t asking for that!”

You totally were.

He didn’t call you out on it, though.

But Niragi did.

“She totally was.” he laughed, nudging Chishiya’s shoulder. Chishiya barely reacted, eyes set ahead.

“Just—can we stop?” you tried. “Just for a little?”

Niragi snorted. “No.”

And you nearly stomped your foot. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.” he answered so quickly, like a petulant child, before laughing again at his own stupidity.

You didn’t laugh. “You’re mean.”

“You’re slow.” he shot back. “Maybe if you moved your ass instead of complaining so much, we’d already be there.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining if I wasn’t dying!”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

You let out a frustrated little noise, throwing your hands up.

This was so unfair. He was awful.

And Chishiya? Well. He was at least less awful.

You slowed your steps again, lagging behind them, defeated. And even though you were tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and miserable—you still followed. Because you had nowhere else to go. You dragged your feet along the pavement, arms crossed over your chest, your bottom lip sticking out in a deep pout. You were hungry, thirsty, exhausted— and the worst part? You had to pee.

Badly.

And knowing these assholes, that wasn’t going to go over well.

But you had to try.

You picked up your pace a little, hurrying to close the gap between you and Chishiya. Niragi was always an asshole, but sometimes, if you were really lucky, Chishiya would at least consider listening to you.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Chishiya…” you called softly, peering up at him.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t even acknowledge you.

“…Chishiya.” you said again, more insistent this time, tugging at his sleeve.

He let out a small breath through his nose. “What.”

You blinked up at him, still pulling at his sleeve. “I have to pee.”

He was silent.

Then—

“No.”

Your mouth fell open. “What do you mean, no?”

“We’re not stopping.” he said simply.

You let out an exasperated noise, dropping his sleeve and turning your attention to Niragi instead.

He was already grinning.

You didn’t like that.

“Niragi.” you started, hopeful. “I really, really have to—”

“Pee yourself.”

You froze. Blinking. The audacity. Your brows furrowed instantly, a small gasp leaving your lips. “I am not peeing myself!”

Niragi just laughed. “Well, then hold it.”

“I can’t hold it forever!”

“Figure it out.”

You groaned. “You’re both awful.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Your eye twitched. This was so unfair. It wasn’t like you were asking for a lot! You weren’t even asking them to find a real bathroom—just a second, just to stop for one second so you could go somewhere behind a car or something.

But no.

Because they were assholes.

Evil.

Your legs pressed together slightly as you walked, and you let out another dramatic whine. “I can’t believe this.” you muttered. “You’re really making me suffer.”

“You’ll live.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. You had no choice but to keep walking. You’d have to figure it out later.

But you weren’t forgetting this.

They were going to pay for this.

You walked along behind them, practically dragging your feet, your arms swinging dramatically with every step. The sky was growing darker, the city eerily quiet, but all you could focus on was the increasingly urgent need to pee.

It was honestly becoming a crisis.

“Come onnnn.” you whined, hurrying a few steps to catch up to them again. “Can’t we stop for just five minutes?”

“No.” Chishiya replied without looking at you.

“Why not?” you protested, throwing your arms up. “It’ll be quick! I’ll be quick!”

“Still no.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Please, I’m begging you.”

Niragi snickered, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Didn’t know you’d get so desperate over something so boring.”

You shot him a glare. “It’s not boring if you’re the one who has to pee.”

“Piss your pants then.”

You gasped. “I am not going to pee myself!”

“Why not? Could be fun.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “That’s disgusting.”

Niragi just laughed.

You stomped your foot, frustrated. “You’re both being so mean to me!”

Chishiya let out a small breath through his nose. “You’ll survive.”

You whined again, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

They kept walking. You stared at their backs, your nose scrunching in frustration.

Okay. Fine. If they weren’t going to stop, then you’d just… you’d…

Wait.

If you went off to pee by yourself…

Alone.

In the dark.

In a creepy, empty city.

Your stomach sank.

You glanced nervously over your shoulder. The streets stretched on endlessly behind you, shadowed alleyways and looming buildings on either side. Even with the sky darkening, the silence was deafening.

What if something was out there? What if someone was out there?

A shiver ran down your spine.

…Maybe stopping wasn’t such a good idea.

But you really had to pee.

Your lip wobbled.

This was a dilemma.

You hurried up to them again, practically skipping to catch up.“Niragi.”

“What.”

“I don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “What, you want me to watch?”

“No!”

Chishiya sighed.

You whined, stomping your foot again. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

You huffed. “You’re both awful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi waved a hand dismissively. “Quit your bitching.”

“I’m not bitching.”

“You’re definitely bitching.”

You pouted. “I just don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi tilted his head at you, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, to your surprise, he shoved his gun into your hands.

“There.” His lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Now you can go take care of yourself.”

You stared down at the gun in your hands. Looked back up at him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Niragi shrugged. “Point and shoot.”

You frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He stepped closer. “Unless you’d rather I come with you.”

You shoved him. “Ew! No!”

He just laughed.

You huffed, glaring at him, but your eyes dropped back down to the gun.

…Okay. You could work with this.

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but at least you’d have something with you.

You sighed, gripping the gun a little tighter. “Fine.”

Niragi snickered, and Chishiya simply kept walking, not even bothering to look back at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping off the road and into the shadows.

You could do this.

Probably.

Niragi had a habit of testing boundaries.

It wasn’t enough for him to win someone over. No, once he had someone close—once they were within arm’s reach, once they trusted him enough to look at him without fear—that’s when he started to push. He wanted to see how far he could go. How much he could get away with before you snapped, before you pushed back, before you told him to stop.

But you never did. That was the thing about you. You didn’t push back. You just took it.

Sure, you pouted, you whined, you huffed and rolled your eyes, but you never once told him to stop. You never yelled at him. You never looked at him with the kind of fear or disgust that he’d gotten used to from everyone else. Even when he scared you—and oh, he knew he scared you sometimes—you didn’t run.

You stayed.

It was fascinating.

You were fascinating.

Soft. Sweet. Easy.

Like a little wind-up doll, all dressed in pastels and wide eyes, clinging to his arm with those delicate little hands and flinching at the sound of gunfire. You forgave him far too easily, like it was second nature. Like you didn’t even think about it. He could scream in your face one minute and have you curled up against him the next, and you wouldn’t question it.

Maybe it was because you were scared.

But Niragi didn’t think that was it.

He’d seen fear. Hell, he lived for fear. He could practically taste it when it clung to the air. But you… you weren’t scared. Not really. Sure, you flinched when he got loud, and your eyes went all wide when he waved his gun around, but there was something else there, under the surface. Some quiet, unshakable belief that he wouldn’t actually hurt you.

And he wouldn’t.

Probably.

You were too fun to mess with.

Besides, you were his.

Not in a romantic sense. Not really. But in the way a cat claimed a favorite toy. Or maybe a favorite bug. One he could bat around a little, watch it squirm, see what it would do.

You made things… interesting.

And as long as you kept taking it, he wasn’t going to stop.

Why would he?

But Chishiya? Chishiya was a whole different story. Where Niragi was loud and reckless, Chishiya was quiet. The kind of person who never did anything without a reason. Every look, every word, every step was carefully measured, weighed against some invisible scale that only he could see.

Chishiya didn’t push.

He watched.

There was a kind of quiet judgment in his gaze, the kind that made people squirm without him ever needing to raise his voice. He could sit silently for hours, observing the people around him, taking in every twitch, every glance, every flicker of emotion, and somehow know exactly what made them tick.

And that made him dangerous.

You intrigued him.

You were soft. Open. Easy to read. Everything you felt was written plainly across your face, from the crinkle of your nose when Niragi teased you to the way your eyes softened when Chishiya so much as glanced in your direction. There was no mask with you. No calculation. Just pure, unfiltered emotion.

It was almost… refreshing.

Almost.

But it also made you vulnerable.

And Chishiya didn’t trust vulnerability.

He watched the way you latched onto Niragi, how you clung to his arm even after he’d scared you half to death. He watched the way you forgave. The way you trusted. The way you gave and gave and gave, even when you got nothing in return.

And he didn’t like it.

Not because he cared.

Not really.

But because he knew people like Niragi. People who took and took and took, chewing others up and spitting them out without a second thought. He knew what it meant to be soft in a place like this. He knew how easily softness could be crushed.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to see that happen to you.

Maybe.

But he wasn’t about to admit that.

You picked up the pace, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. When you finally reached them, you shoved the gun back into Niragi’s hands without ceremony. “Here. I don’t want this anymore.”

Niragi laughed, loud, spinning the gun in his hand. “Aww, done playing soldier?” He gave you a grin that showed just a little too much teeth. “Figured you’d end up shooting yourself in the foot.”

You ignored him, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “It’s so hot.” you whined, tugging at the front of your dress to fan yourself. “I feel like I’m gonna melt.”

Chishiya barely spared you a glance. “It’s summer.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” you grumbled. “I hate it. I feel all sticky.” You wiped your hands on the hem of your dress and wrinkled your nose. “And I’m hungry.”

Niragi scoffed. “You’re always hungry.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Because you never feed me.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re not a fucking puppy.”

“I could be. If it meant you’d actually give me something to eat.”

“Well, aren’t you just precious.” he sneered, reaching out to flick your nose. You swatted his hand away, scowling, but he only grinned wider. “You’ll eat after the game.”

Your stomach sank. “After?”

Chishiya glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Be patient.”

You stared at him, mouth opening and closing as you tried to find the right words. “But…” You looked around, gesturing to the empty street. “But it’s already late. What if the game takes hours? What if I pass out from hunger in the middle of it?” You pressed a hand dramatically to your forehead. “You’ll have to carry me.”

“That’d be the least of our problems.” Chishiya deadpanned.

You turned to Niragi, wide-eyed and pleading. “What if I die?”

He snorted. “Then at least you won’t be hungry anymore.”

You gasped, slapping his arm. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re dramatic.” Niragi smirked, twirling his gun again as he walked ahead. “Come on, princess. You’ll survive.”

You huffed but followed, dragging your feet a little just to be petty. The heat pressed down on you, making every step feel heavier, and the hunger gnawed at your stomach. At least you didn’t have to pee anymore. Your eyes drifted to the sky, watching as the colors darkened, the last streaks of sunlight melting into shadows.

Fuck. Fuck them. Fuck you. Fuck.

~

The game was set in an old department store—a massive, darkened labyrinth of empty shelves and abandoned checkout counters. The automatic doors had long since stopped working, left ajar just enough for people to slip through. It felt cold inside, even with the summer heat lingering outside, and the air smelled faintly of dust and rust. The kind of place that felt haunted even if there weren’t death games happening inside.

The three of you stood near the escalators, waiting. The others—about ten or so—scattered through the first floor, some lingering near the dark aisles, others watching the entrance. Everyone was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the emergency lights overhead. Each flicker of movement had heads turning sharply, eyes darting, bodies tense.

Niragi stood to your right, leaning against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. His gun rested easily against his hip, one finger tapping lazily against the handle. He scanned the room with a bored expression, though you knew better. He was watching. Calculating. Deciding who would scream the loudest if he shot them first.

Chishiya was on your left, leaning against the glass railing, his gaze equally sharp but far more subtle. He had that quiet curiosity about him, like he was studying everyone as if they were pieces on a board, already thinking three moves ahead.

You, on the other hand, were fidgeting. The cold air made your skin prickle, and you shifted from foot to foot, glancing around. You hated the waiting. The quiet. It was always worse before the game started, when the silence felt heavy, like it was pressing down on you.

You frowned, glancing around the store. “It’s weird. I always thought department stores were kind of cozy, you know? When they’re open and full of people.” You rubbed your arms, shivering a little. “But now it feels… wrong.”

“That’s because it is wrong.” Niragi drawled, pushing off the pillar and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “This place is a graveyard. Bet you anything half these losers won’t make it out.”

You frowned but didn’t shrug him off. The weight of his arm was grounding, in a way. “Don’t say that.”

He laughed. “What, too dark for you?” He squeezed your shoulder, leaning in close. “You better toughen up. Games don’t care how sweet you are.”

You sighed, resting your head against his arm. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the exchange quietly, his eyes flicking between the two of you. He tilted his head slightly, observing the way Niragi hovered close, possessive in a way that felt more animal than human. He’d always been like that. Claiming things. People. Biting into them just to see how much they’d bleed.

But you… You were soft. Warm. And Niragi clung to that warmth like a drowning man, desperate and reckless, sinking his claws into you just to keep from going under. Chishiya couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or dangerous. Maybe both.

You shifted, pulling away from Niragi just enough to face Chishiya. “What about you? Do you think we’ll be okay?”

He blinked slowly, considering you. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On the game.”

You sighed, leaning against the railing. “You’re no help.”

Niragi snorted. “Told you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but before he could retaliate, the lights flickered. Everyone tensed, eyes snapping to the ceiling as the emergency lights blinked twice before settling into a steady glow. The sound of heavy metal doors sliding shut echoed through the building, sealing everyone inside.

A screen flickered to life above the escalators, casting the room in a cold, blue light.

GAME: SILENT.

DIFFICULTY: 5 OF DIAMONDS

Of course. You glanced at Chishiya, who barely blinked. Niragi just sneered.

RULES:

Each player will be assigned a section of the store. You must locate your section and remain there until further instruction.

If the sound sensors detect noise above a certain threshold—

A low beep sounded from overhead. The screen shifted, showing a digital counter set to 100. It hovered ominously, a bright red warning against the cold blue screen.

—the counter will decrease.

The screen displayed a quick animation: a digital figure knocking over a can, the counter ticking down. When it hit 0, a loud, sharp buzz echoed through the store, and the figure collapsed. Dead.

If the counter reaches zero, all players will be eliminated.

Silence. The room felt colder. Heavier. You gripped your arms tightly, barely breathing.

“Wait…” You frowned. “So we just have to be quiet?”

Niragi laughed under his breath, low. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more.”

The screen flickered again, showing a floor plan of the department store. Various sections lit up—electronics, clothing, home things—each one marked with a small red dot.

A challenge will be issued in each section. Complete the challenge without triggering the sound sensors. Failure to complete the challenge will result in a penalty.

You didn’t even want to know what the penalty was.

Complete all challenges before the counter reaches zero to win.

And just like that, the screen went dark. The emergency lights dimmed even further, barely illuminating the space. The only sound was the faint buzz of the screen and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

A soft click echoed through the store, and you jumped as small wristbands slid out from a slot below the screen. One for each of the players.

Niragi grabbed his first, spinning it around his finger before snapping it onto his wrist. Chishiya took his without a word, fastening it with a soft click. You hesitated before slipping yours on, the band tightening automatically.

A soft beep sounded as the screens on your wristbands lit up.

GAME START.

A small map appeared, showing your location and marking a path to your assigned section.

“Well,” Niragi said, rolling his shoulders. “looks like we’re splitting up.”

Your heart sank. “What?”

He tilted his head. “You heard the rules. Each player gets a section. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll come find you when you screw up.”

You frowned, glancing nervously at Chishiya. He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The challenges will test your problem-solving. Staying quiet is just the extra layer of difficulty.” he murmured.

“But…” You bit your lip. “What if I can’t do it?”

Niragi snorted. “Then you die.”

You flinched, but Chishiya just rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating.” He glanced at his wristband, already scanning the map. “The goal is to complete all the challenges before the counter hits zero. As long as you’re careful, you’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure you believed him.

Niragi turned toward the aisles, whistling softly—the sound immediately earning a soft beep from the ceiling, the counter ticking down from 100 to 99.

“Oops.” he grinned. “Guess I should be more careful.”

You wanted to slap him.

Chishiya sighed. “Let’s go.”

You followed them through the store, the silence heavy around you. Your section was in the clothing department, while Chishiya’s was in electronics and Niragi’s in sport.

As you approached the branching hallways, Niragi gave you a sharp grin. “Don’t get lost.” He flicked your forehead, making you flinch. “I’ll come find your corpse later.”

Before you could snap at him, he walked off into the darkness, gun resting on his shoulder.

Chishiya looked at you. “I think you’ll survive.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “Stay quiet. And don’t overthink things.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment, eyes lingering on you, before finally turning away, slipping into the shadows.

And just like that… you were alone.

~

The sky was dark, darker than usual.

You stood alone on the cracked sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around your little pink bag like it could shield you from the horrors of this place. The game was over. You survived. But that familiar weight in your chest wouldn’t ease.

The street was dead silent, save for the soft scuff of your pretty shoes shifting nervously against the pavement. You glanced down at your hands, trembling slightly as they clutched the straps of your bag. You squeezed your fingers tighter, trying to ground yourself.

You were fine. You were alive. That’s what mattered.

Then you heard footsteps.

Your head snapped up, heart lurching into your throat. From the shadows, two figures emerged—familiar, but no less unsettling. Niragi’s long frame cut through the night like a knife, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, mouth twisted into something like a sneer.

Chishiya followed a few paces behind, quieter, calmer, hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t just come from a life-or-death game. His eyes flicked over you once, taking in the way you curled into yourself, before settling somewhere past your shoulder.

“What, you thought we’d die or something?” Niragi’s voice was low, almost bored, but it made you flinch all the same. His eyes glinted under the faint moonlight, his piercings also.

You shrank back a little, but forced yourself to speak. “I… I was worried.” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. You hated how fragile it sounded. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Niragi scoffed, shifting his rifle with a careless swing of his arm. “How cute.” He tilted his head, studying you. “What do you think this is, princess? Some happy little survival club? No one cares if you’re worried.”

You dropped your gaze, biting your lip.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. But still… you had worried. You always did. Even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I care.” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Niragi’s grin faltered for a second. Just a second. His eyes flicked over you again, slower this time, like he was trying to figure out what the hell you were made of. Then he snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

You shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around your bag. “I’m glad you’re okay.” you said softly, eyes darting toward Chishiya. He hadn’t spoken a word. Just stood there, quiet.

“You too, Chishiya.”

He blinked, surprised for a moment that you’d addressed him. Then he offered the smallest nod, eyes lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

The silence stretched between the three of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, searching for something—anything—to fill the void.

“So… how was the game?” you asked quietly.

Niragi let out a sharp bark of laughter. “What, you wanna swap war stories now?”

You flinched. “No, I just… I don’t know.” You looked down, scuffing your shoe against the cracked pavement. “I guess I just want to talk.”

Niragi scoffed again, but it sounded almost tired this time. He turned away, staring out into the darkness like he could see something you couldn’t. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should apologize. You shifted on your feet, then hesitantly stepped closer to them. Neither of them moved. Slowly, carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against Niragi’s sleeve. His body tensed instantly, and for a moment, you thought he might shove you away. But he didn’t. He just stood there, silent and still, letting your touch linger.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you whispered again.

Niragi scoffed, low and quiet, but you heard the way his breath hitched. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Maybe you were. But you didn’t let go.

You shifted again, biting your lip, voice soft and hesitant. “Um… Can we eat now?”

Niragi’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost stumbled back. His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer. “What?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “You… you promised.” you whispered. “After the game. You said we could eat after the game.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes glittering with something unreadable. Then, to your horror, he let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot I made a promise to the princess.” He leaned in close, voice dropping into something low and mean. “Newsflash, sweetheart. Promises don’t mean shit here.”

“But I’m hungry.” you said softly, almost pleading. “You said—”

“I said,” Niragi snapped, cutting you off. “a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I have to keep my word.” He grinned, sharp and mean, tilting his head to the side. “Besides, what’s a little hunger? Builds character.”

Your stomach twisted painfully, both from his words and the ache gnawing at your insides. You’d been walking all day, barely eating anything, and the fear from earlier had left you drained. You were exhausted. You were starving. And Niragi… Niragi didn’t care.

Niragi stared at you for a moment, eyes flickering over your trembling form, before scoffing and turning away. “Jesus. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

Your heart sank. You bit your lip, glancing toward Chishiya for support, but he remained silent, watching the interaction with that same unreadable expression. You dropped your gaze, shoulders sagging.

Then, quietly, Chishiya spoke. “She should eat.”

Niragi froze, his head turning slowly toward Chishiya. “What?” he hissed.

Chishiya met his glare with infuriating calmness, his voice quiet and even. “She should eat.” he repeated. “You promised her. Keep your word.”

The air shifted instantly. Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. He took a step toward Chishiya, his sneer sharpening into something colder, crueler. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in charge now.” His voice dripped with venom. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared.”

Chishiya didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “I don’t.” he said simply. “But she does.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a moment, you thought he might actually raise it. The tension between them crackled like static in the air, dangerous. You shrank back, heart racing, eyes darting between them.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Niragi let out a sharp breath, rolling his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” He turned away, muttering under his breath.

Niragi started walking, the weight of his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder.

You blinked hard, trying to stay focused, but the pavement felt like it was tilting beneath your feet. Your stomach twisted painfully, the hunger gnawing at you sharper now, almost dizzying. You started walking after them. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

The game had been long. The walking had been longer. Your body felt drained, trembling slightly with every step. But you kept going. You always did.

Then your vision blurred. The world tilted sideways, and your knees buckled.

“Woah—shit.” Your knees hit the pavement before you even realized you’d fallen, the rough concrete scraping against your skin. Your pink bag slipped from your fingers, landing with a soft thud beside you. The world spun violently.

“Y/N?” Chishiya’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the haze in your mind. Footsteps followed, slow.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. The hunger, the exhaustion—it was all too much. “I’m… I’m okay.” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. “Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Niragi’s voice snapped through the night like a whip. His footsteps were faster, louder, echoing in your ears. “The fuck do you mean ‘dizzy’?”

You blinked up at him, vision still swimming. He loomed over you, jaw tight. His rifle hung loosely at his side, but his other hand twitched at his hip, fingers curling and uncurling like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You forced a weak smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “I just… I think I need a minute.”

Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A minute.” he repeated. “You’re sitting on the fucking ground, looking like you’re about to pass out, and you need a minute?”

You flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but before you could answer, Chishiya’s voice cut through the tension.

“She hasn’t eaten.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You saw the way Niragi’s body tensed, his fingers curling tighter at his side. He turned slowly, fixing Chishiya with a look so cold it could’ve frozen the air between them. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, his face unreadable. “She hasn’t eaten.” he repeated calmly. “I told you.”

Niragi’s jaw tightened. “Oh, fuck you.”

Chishiya shrugged. “You’re the one who said promises don’t mean shit.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a second, you thought he might actually swing it at Chishiya, but instead, he whirled back toward you, crouching down so you were eye-level. His face was inches from yours, scanning your face like he was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with you.

You shrank back slightly, heart racing. “Niragi, I—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he snapped. His voice was sharp, almost angry, but there was something else beneath it—something raw. “Huh? You were just gonna fucking keel over and die on us?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” you whispered. “You were tired after the game, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Niragi stared at you. Then he scoffed, running a hand through his hair and letting out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.” He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to glare at Chishiya. “You think you’re so fucking smart, huh?” He jabbed a finger at him. “Standing there, all high and mighty, like you knew this was gonna happen.”

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, lingering for a moment before shifting back to Niragi. “I did.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, but before he could lash out again, you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Both men turned toward you. Niragi looked pissed. Chishiya just looked… tired.

“I didn’t mean to make things difficult.” you said softly. “I just… I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You forced a small smile, even as your vision swam again. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”

Niragi stared at you, his jaw tight, breathing heavy. Then he let out a sharp breath and crouched down in front of you again, his hands resting on his knees. “You’re so fucking stupid.” His voice was quieter now, almost… soft.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“You heard me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re fucking stupid. Always putting everyone else first. Always apologizing.” His eyes narrowed. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak.”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze. “I’m not weak.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he sighed and dropped onto the pavement beside you, legs stretched out in front of him. “You’re lucky I like weak things.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

He ignored you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled protein bar. Without a word, he shoved it into your hands. “Eat.”

You blinked down at the bar, then back up at him. “But—”

“Eat.” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “Before I shove it down your throat.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Chishiya, who just raised a brow and gestured vaguely toward Niragi. “Don’t look at me. I told him to feed you an hour ago.”

Niragi growled under his breath, but you ignored him, carefully unwrapping the bar and taking a small bite. You nearly moaned. Your body practically sighed in relief, the dizziness easing just enough for you to breathe again.

You glanced toward Niragi, your heart softening a little at the way he stared out into the dark, jaw tight, refusing to look at you.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

He didn’t respond. Just sat there in silence, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.

Chishiya watched quietly, eyes flicking between the two of you before he let out a soft huff and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Idiots.”

Neither of you answered.

The dizziness had faded to a dull throb behind your eyes, and your body felt less like it was about to give out. Small victories.

You shifted slightly, curling your legs beneath you as you hugged your pink bag to your chest. Niragi sat beside you, silent now, his long legs stretched out in front of him, rifle resting lazily across his lap. He hadn’t spoken since forcing the protein bar into your hands. Didn’t even look at you. Just stared out into the night like he was waiting for something—or maybe trying not to feel something.

Chishiya lingered a few feet away, leaning against the crumbling wall of the store behind you.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, voice soft, almost unsure. “Do you think we could go back inside?”

Niragi stiffened slightly, his head snapping toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers tighter around your bag. “The department store. There might still be food in there. Or water. I just thought…” You trailed off, heart pounding a little faster under his sudden scrutiny. “It’s probably a stupid idea.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

You blinked, startled. “Where are you going?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Where do you think?” He jerked his head toward the dark entrance of the store. “Someone’s gotta keep you from passing out again.”

Before you could say anything, he walked off toward the building. You stared after him, a little stunned. Niragi… was going to get food? For you?

Chishiya let out a soft huff, drawing your attention. “I wouldn’t be so touched.” he said dryly. “He probably just wants an excuse to shoot something.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter as Niragi disappeared into the shadows. “He’s not that bad.”

Chishiya raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “No?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall behind you. “Okay, maybe he is that bad. But… he didn’t have to go.”

Chishiya shrugged, his gaze drifting toward the dark entrance. “He likes having an excuse to feel useful.” His eyes flicked back to you. “And you give him a lot of excuses.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The silence stretched between you. You shifted slightly, picking at a loose thread on your bag before glancing up at him.

“What about you?” you asked softly. “Why do you stay?”

Chishiya blinked, clearly not expecting the question. He tilted his head slightly, considering you for a moment. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged. “I asked first.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “I stay for the entertainment.” he said simply.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Softer, somehow. You glanced toward the department store, half-expecting Niragi to come stomping back out, but the entrance remained dark and empty.

“Do you think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Chishiya huffed a soft laugh. “He’s probably having the time of his life.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worry too much.”

You smiled faintly. “Someone has to.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. Just watched you quietly, his expression unreadable.

Niragi had been gone for a while now, long enough that you started to feel that familiar worry twist in your stomach. But when you glanced at Chishiya, leaning against the wall a few feet away, he looked as relaxed as ever.

You bit your lip, watching him quietly for a moment. The shadows stretched long across his face, the soft moonlight catching on the silver of his hair. He didn’t look at you, eyes half-lidded as he stared off into the dark. Always so distant. Always so quiet.

“Hey.” you said softly.

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, slow and lazy, like you’d interrupted some deep train of thought. He raised a brow. “What?”

You hesitated, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “What’s up with you?”

His brow arched higher, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like you’d asked him the dumbest question imaginable. “What?”

You shrugged, glancing down at your hands. “I mean… how are you? You’re always so quiet. I just wondered…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I don’t know. You don’t talk much.”

Chishiya let out a soft huff, barely a laugh, and looked away again. “There’s not much to say.”

You frowned, shifting slightly to face him better. “That’s not true.” You hesitated, then patted the empty spot on the pavement beside you. “Sit down.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just sit.”

For a moment, you thought he might ignore you. But after a long pause, he let out a quiet sigh and pushed off the wall, walking over to sink onto the pavement beside you. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and leaned back on his hands.

You watched him quietly for a moment, trying to read the expression on his face, but as always, it gave away nothing. He just stared out into the darkness, eyes half-lidded, mouth set in a soft line.

“Better?” he asked dryly.

You smiled faintly. “A little.”

The silence settled again, heavier this time. You shifted slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You know… you’re really hard to read.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” You hesitated, fingers tapping lightly against your bag. “I just mean… you never talk about yourself. Not really.” You glanced at him again. “Why is that?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the dark store, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was watching for any sign of Niragi. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “What’s the point?”

You blinked. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, the moonlight catching in his hair. “Talking. Sharing. It doesn’t change anything.” He shrugged, gaze still fixed on the darkness. “People like to think it does. But it doesn’t.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He scoffed softly. “Of course you don’t.”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “You shared with me once.”

That made him pause. His gaze flicked toward you, assessing. “Did I?”

You nodded slowly. “A while ago. You told me things.” You looked down at your hands. “I remember.”

Oh, he remembered that very well. One of his happiest memories in that miserable life of his, probably.

“That was a mistake.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because now you think you know me.”

You stared at him, heart sinking a little. “I don’t.” you said softly. “But… I’d like to.”

Chishiya turned toward you, eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something cutting. But then he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, and the silence stretched long between you.

Finally, he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “You’re exhausting.”

You smiled faintly. “I get that a lot.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The darkness stretched around you, quiet and still, and the soft hum of the night filled the air. You glanced at Chishiya again, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each slow breath, the way his silver hair fell into his eyes. He looked almost peaceful. Almost.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

Chishiya’s eyes opened slowly, gaze flicking toward you. “For what?”

You shrugged, smiling softly. “For sitting with me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes searching your face. Then he let out a soft huff and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Don’t mention it.” he muttered.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on your knees, arms wrapped around your legs. The pavement was cold beneath you, but you didn’t mind. Chishiya stayed quiet at your side, eyes closed, breathing slow and even like the dark world around him didn’t exist.

You let yourself relax for a moment. The dizziness had faded a little. Or maybe you were just getting used to it. Either way, the night air felt cool against your skin, and the weight in your chest didn’t feel as heavy with Chishiya sitting next to you.

Then, in the distance, you heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Loud. Familiar.

You turned your head, watching as a shadow emerged from the darkness. Niragi. Aa plastic bag swinging from one hand, rifle slung over his shoulder. Even in the dim light, you could see the irritation painted across his face.

“Well, aren’t I just the fucking delivery boy.” he sneered, holding up the bag like it physically offended him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, surprised. “You actually found stuff?”

Niragi scoffed, dropping the bag into your lap with a loud crinkle. “Yeah. You think I’m useless or something?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just… Thank you.” You smiled softly, fingers curling around the plastic handles. “Really.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he rolled them, muttering something under his breath as he dropped onto the pavement beside you, stretching his legs out with a huff.

You peeked inside the bag and felt a rush of relief at the sight of the food. You grabbed the water first, cracking the lid open and taking a long, slow sip, your throat burning with each swallow. God, that felt good.

Chishiya watched quietly as you started pulling things out of the bag, carefully tucking each item into your pink bag. You worked slowly, carefully fitting everything inside, fingers gentle, movements soft. Niragi just stared out into the night, rifle resting across his lap.

But you… you couldn’t stop talking.

“You know,” you began softly, glancing between the two of them. “you guys are really different.”

Niragi snorted. “No shit.”

You smiled faintly. “I just mean… you’re both quiet. But in different ways.” You glanced at Chishiya, who arched a brow. “You watch people. You’re careful. I feel like you’re always calculating something.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Observing.”

“Right.” you said, nodding. “Observing.” You bit your lip, glancing at Niragi. “And you… you’re loud. Even when you’re quiet.”

Niragi shot you a look. “The fuck does that mean?”

You shrugged, carefully sliding a protein bar into the side pocket of your bag. “You fill the space around you. You’re… intense.” You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of your bag. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Niragi stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re weird.”

You laughed softly. “I get that a lot.”

You get a lot of things thrown at your head, Y/N.

The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel so heavy this time. You sat quietly, tucking the last of the food into your bag before zipping it up and hugging it to your chest.

“Why do you care so much?” Chishiya asked suddenly.

You blinked, glancing at him. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Us. Why do you care?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart sinking a little. “Because… someone has to.”

Niragi scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smiled faintly. “Probably.” You glanced between them, heart softening a little.

Chishiya watched you quietly. Niragi just rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms cover his chest.

“Lucky us.” Niragi muttered.

You just smiled, hugging your bag tighter. The food inside felt like a tiny victory, even if Niragi had made a show of slamming the bag into your lap like it was some huge inconvenience.

You glanced between them—Niragi, lounging against the wall like the world bored him, his long legs stretched out and rifle balanced lazily across his lap. Chishiya, quiet and still, arms folded over his chest, eyes half-lidded like he was seconds away from falling asleep. They were so different, and yet… here they were. Both of them. With you.

A soft breath slipped past your lips, and you pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dust from your clothes. Niragi tilted his head back to look up at you, brow furrowing slightly.

“What are you doing?”

You ignored him, shifting your bag over your shoulder and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

Niragi stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “What?”

“Let’s go.” You gestured vaguely at the empty street ahead of you. “We can’t just sit here all night.”

Niragi scoffed. “Why not? No one’s stopping us.”

You huffed softly, reaching down to grab his hand. He tensed beneath your touch, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t let go. His fingers curled instinctively around yours even as he scowled.

“Come on.” you said again, gentler this time. “Please?”

Niragi let out a long, dramatic sigh, but he stood, towering over you as he stretched his arms above his head. “You’re so fucking annoying.” he muttered.

You smiled softly. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the two of you quietly, his gaze flicking down to where your fingers curled around Niragi’s hand. He arched a brow, but said nothing.

“And you.” you said, turning toward him. “You’re not off the hook.”

Chishiya blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hm?”

You grabbed his hand, fingers curling around his wrist, tugging gently. “Come on. You too.”

Chishiya didn’t move at first. He just sat there, staring at you like he was trying to figure out what the fuck your angle was. Then, with a soft sigh, he let you pull him to his feet. His fingers slipped into yours, cool and steady, the complete opposite of Niragi’s tense grip.

Satisfied, you started walking, dragging them along behind you. Niragi grumbled under his breath the entire time, but he didn’t pull away. Chishiya stayed quiet, his steps light and even, barely making a sound against the cracked pavement.

Eventually, you let their hands slip from yours, walking a few steps ahead. The night air felt lighter now, the tension easing from your shoulders with every step.

You glanced back at them, smiling softly. Niragi walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, scowling at the ground like it had personally offended him. Chishiya moved like a shadow, eyes half-lidded as he watched you from a few paces behind.

“You know,” you said softly, glancing over your shoulder. “I’m really glad I found you guys.”

Niragi scoffed. “Yeah, well. I didn’t fucking ask.”

You just smiled, turning your gaze back to the empty street ahead. For now, with their quiet footsteps trailing behind you and the weight of your cute pink bag against your back, you let yourself believe it’s good. That you’re fine.

~

Niragi was pissed off.

Not at you. God, never at you.

He watched you walk ahead, your pink bag bouncing softly against your back with every step, the gentle sway of your body almost hypnotic in the quiet night. Chishiya had moved further up the road, putting space between himself and the two of you—typical. The bastard never liked getting too close. Niragi didn’t care about him, though. Right now, his eyes were locked on you.

You were so fucking soft. Even after everything you’d seen, everything he’d done right in front of you, you still turned around to check on him. Still smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster.

It made him furious.

Because Niragi wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was.

Violent. Cruel. Twisted. He’d killed people. Laughed about it. Wallowed in the blood and the fire and the chaos of it all. This place it gave him permission to be the ugliest version of himself. And he liked it. He liked the way people flinched when they saw him. The way they shrank back from his smile and the glint of his rifle.

But you? You never shrank away.

You should have. After everything he did, after the man he killed right in front of you, you should’ve run as far and as fast as you could. Let’s not even talk about when they made you kill that guy. But instead, you stayed. Even when you flinched at his violence, even when your eyes welled up with tears and your hands shook, you stayed. You cried, but you didn’t leave. And when the tears stopped, you reached for him. Like he deserved your comfort. Like he deserved you.

It made him sick. It made him angry.

Not at you. Never at you.

At himself.

Because Niragi felt.

And he fucking hated it.

He hated the way his chest squeezed when you smiled at him, soft and sweet like a sunrise he didn’t deserve to see. He hated the way his hands ached to touch you, to feel your warmth, your softness, your kindness—things he’d never had and never would. He hated the way his body gravitated toward you.

He hated that you made him want to be better.

He shoved the thought down deep, scowling as he watched you walk ahead. You moved so easily, your steps light and soft even on the cracked pavement. Like you belonged anywhere but here. Like the darkness couldn’t touch you.

Niragi’s fists clenched.

You didn’t belong here. Not with him. Not with Chishiya. Not in this fucking place.

But you stayed anyway.

And it terrified him.

Because what the hell was he supposed to do with that? With you?

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, glancing back at him over your shoulder, eyes soft and warm even in the darkness. “You okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

Was he okay? No. Fuck no. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. His skin itched with the need to be closer to you and the instinct to push you so far away you’d never find your way back. His chest ached, tight and unfamiliar, like his ribs were trying to crush something too soft to survive. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh.

He wanted to fall to his knees and beg you to stay and shove you away in the same breath.

Instead, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

You frowned, biting your lip. God, you were so soft. So sweet. How the hell were you still here?

“Okay.” you said quietly. Then, as if you hadn’t just shattered him with a single word, you turned back around and kept walking.

Niragi let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. He glanced up ahead, watching Chishiya’s quiet silhouette move further away. Niragi sneered. That smug bastard didn’t deserve you either.

But at least Chishiya didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.

Niragi… he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go.

Even if it killed him.

He watched you like a predator, his eyes tracking your every move. You walked with that soft, steady grace, like the world hadn’t already tried to chew you up and spit you out a thousand times. Like you hadn’t just survived another game. There was something infuriating about it, about you. Even in the middle of this hellhole, with death around every corner, you still managed to be… light.

And Niragi hated it.

No—he hated that he needed it.

The world had stripped away every soft thing inside him, leaving behind a jagged, broken thing. People were weak. People were selfish. That’s what this place taught you. Kill or be killed. Hurt or be hurt. He’d chosen to be the one holding the gun, the one laughing while the world burned. That was the only way to survive.

But then you came along.

You with your kindness. Your softness. Your goddamn heart.

It made him sick. It made him angry. It made him feel.

And Niragi didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

His eyes followed the gentle sway of your pink bag, the way your fingers curled around the strap like it held something precious. You always did that—treated everything with care. Even him. Especially him. After everything he’d done, after all the blood and violence, you still reached for him. Still forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye. “You sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, the concern in your voice making his stomach twist.

Niragi scowled. “Why do you care?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Because I do.”

His jaw clenched. His fists curled. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you, shake you, make you understand what a stupid, dangerous thing it was to care about someone like him.

Instead, he just scoffed. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t shy away. You just smiled—soft, patient. “Maybe.”

Niragi stared at you, his chest tightening, his heart pounding against his ribs like a caged animal. He wanted to run. He wanted to stay. He wanted to rip himself open and shove every ugly part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still look at him like that.

But he didn’t.

Because Niragi didn’t know how to be soft. He only knew how to destroy.

And the scariest part?

He was terrified that one day, he’d destroy you too.

His eyes drifted down to your hand.

You’d stretched it out toward him, soft and open, palm facing up. An invitation. A gentle offering. The pink strap of your bag slid down your shoulder as you turned toward him, slowing your pace to match his. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, but you… you were right here.

No one had ever held their hand out to him like this before.

He’d held hands before—sure. When he was a dumb fucking kid, he used to clutch his mom’s hand when they crossed the street. He could barely remember the feeling of it now, warm and soft.

School was no better. The only time anyone ever grabbed his hand was because they had to—stupid group projects or forced activities, holding hands in a circle like they actually wanted him there. He remembered the way they would barely touch him, just their fingertips ghosting against his skin like he was diseased.

And the girls at the Beach? They’d touched him, sure. In bed, their hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping down his back. But even that wasn’t real. They were drunk on fear or power or the sick rush of survival, just like everyone else. Their hands never lingered. Never stayed.

But this?

This was different.

You were different.

You held your hand out to him like you actually wanted him to take it. No fear. No obligation. Just warmth. Just you.

Niragi stared at your hand, his breath catching in his throat. He felt frozen, like if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter and you’d slip away. His fingers twitched in his pocket, itching to reach out, to feel the softness of your skin against his own.

But he didn’t deserve it.

Not after everything he’d done. Not after the blood on his hands and the violence in his heart. You shouldn’t be reaching for him. You should be running from him.

But you didn’t.

You just waited, patient and soft, your fingers curling slightly like you were coaxing him closer. “It’s okay.” you said softly, your voice gentle in the quiet night. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck.

He felt his heart lurch, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting in his chest. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Before he could stop himself, Niragi’s hand slipped from his pocket. Slowly—so slowly—he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. You just curled your hand around his, squeezing softly.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his palm pressing against yours. Your hand was so much smaller, so much softer. You just held on.

And Niragi?

He held on too.

His fingers tightened around yours, his grip almost too firm, like if he let go, you’d disappear. His heart pounded in his chest, loud and heavy, and he clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead like it didn’t mean anything. Like his entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis because of you and your stupid soft hands.

You smiled softly, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “See? Not so bad.”

Niragi scoffed, looking away. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

But he didn’t let go.

Not even once.

Niragi never meant to get attached.

That wasn’t who he was. Attachments made you weak. They gave people leverage. Made you soft. The borderlands didn’t have room for softness. It was a place where kindness got you killed and love was just another kind of weakness.

But then there was you.

You, with your soft hands and your stupid pink bag, walking with him like you didn’t have a single fear in the world. As if this hellhole wasn’t breathing down your neck every second of the day. As if monsters like him didn’t exist. Or maybe you knew they did and just… didn’t care.

That was the worst part. You knew. You saw what he was capable of. The violence. The cruelty. You’d watched him kill a man without blinking. You’d seen the blood on his hands, the gleam in his eyes when he pulled the trigger. You should’ve run. You should’ve screamed. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And worse—you cared.

You were so fucking soft, always checking on him, always offering little smiles like they could melt the darkness inside him. Like you saw something in him worth saving. It pissed him off. It made his skin crawl. It made him want.

Want what? He didn’t know.

At least… he didn’t at first.

The more time he spent with you, the harder it became to ignore. The way his eyes always found you first. The way his chest felt tight whenever you strayed too far from his side. The way his fingers twitched, itching to grab your hand again, to feel your warmth, to make sure you were real.

And god, the way you smiled.

That was the worst part. The way you smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster. He hated it. He needed it.

Every time you looked at him like that, something inside him cracked open, raw and bleeding. It felt like standing too close to a fire, the heat licking at his skin, burning through his defenses. He wanted to shove you away. He wanted to pull you closer. He wanted to tear himself open and shove every ugly, broken part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still smile at him.

He hated you for it.

No—not you. Never you.

He hated himself.

Because Niragi was selfish. He knew that. He’d always been selfish. He took what he wanted, consequences be damned. And right now? He wanted you.

But he didn’t deserve you.

He knew that too.

It didn’t stop him from watching you, his dark eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the soft sway of your hips, the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders with every breath. You moved like you didn’t belong here, light and soft, like the darkness couldn’t touch you. Like he couldn’t touch you.

And maybe he shouldn’t.

But god, he wanted to.

He wanted to grab you, to press you up against the nearest wall and feel you breathe beneath him. To drag his hands over every soft inch of you and burn the memory of your warmth into his skin. To hold you close, closer than anyone ever had, and never let go.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you safe.

That was the part that scared him the most.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. People were weak. People were selfish. People betrayed you the second you let your guard down. That was the first lesson the world taught him—the only lesson that mattered.

But you weren’t like them.

You were soft. And sweet. And you cared. About him. About Chishiya. About people who didn’t deserve it. People who would break you if you let them.

And Niragi hated the idea of anyone breaking you.

Anyone but him.

He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his rifle. His gaze burned into the back of your head as you walked ahead of him, still holding his hand, practically dragging him along, your soft hum drifting back on the breeze. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, always watching. Always judging. Niragi sneered. Fucking bastard. Always acting like he was better than everyone else.

But even Chishiya wasn’t immune to you. Niragi saw the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his posture softened ever so slightly whenever you smiled at him. It made Niragi’s blood boil. Not because Chishiya cared. No—Niragi didn’t give a fuck about that.

What pissed him off was that Chishiya let you get close.

Because the second you got close? That was when you got hurt.

And Niragi… he wasn’t sure what he’d do if someone hurt you.

No. That wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d kill them. Slowly. Painfully. And he’d enjoy every second of it.

Because Niragi was a monster.

But even monsters could love.

His fingers curled tighter around yours, his grip almost too firm. You didn’t pull away—you never did—but your thumb brushed softly over his knuckles, easing the tension. It was a soft, absentminded thing. Maybe you didn’t even realize you were doing it. But he did.

He noticed everything about you.

The softness of your skin against his, delicate and smooth, like you’d never had to fight for your life. The way your pinky finger rested against his, warm and gentle, like you belonged there. The faint scent of whatever soap you had at the apartment, sweet and floral, clinging to you even now.

It made his chest ache.

Niragi kept his eyes straight ahead, scowling into the darkness, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened every time you squeezed his hand. The street stretched out before you, cracked and quiet.

All Niragi could feel was you.

It was stupid. He’d touched you before. A lot, actually. We know that. You were soft like that—always reaching for him, always offering your warmth without a second thought. It made his skin itch, made his heart pound, made him want to rip himself open just to see if he was even capable of feeling anything good anymore.

But tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or the darkness. Or the fact that you’d almost passed out earlier, too dizzy and tired to keep going, your body finally giving out after god knows how long without eating. He’d never admit it—not even to himself—but it had scared the shit out of him.

You weren’t supposed to be weak. You weren’t supposed to break.

But you did.

And Niragi realized something, walking there watching you sway on your feet, eyes fluttering closed while you clutched at your stupid little pink bag.

He cared.

Not just about keeping you alive. Not just about having you close.

He cared about you.

The thought made him feel sick.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. They used you, then threw you away the second you stopped being useful. That was the first thing he learned growing up—the first thing that shaped him into the man he was now. He’d been nothing to everyone his whole life, and when the Borderlands came, it finally gave him permission to be the monster they always said he was.

But you…

You made him want to be something else.

He glanced down at your hands, the way your fingers tangled with his, soft and trusting, like he wasn’t capable of snapping them in half with a single squeeze.

God, you were so fucking stupid.

But he liked it.

He liked the way you hummed softly under your breath when the silence stretched too long, a quiet little melody that barely reached his ears. He liked the way you squeezed his hand when the darkness pressed in too tightly, as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world. He liked the way you smiled at him, soft and patient, like you weren’t terrified of what he might do.

And fuck, maybe the worst part was that you weren’t scared.

Not of him. Not really.

You’d seen him kill. You’d seen him laugh while the blood pooled beneath his feet. You’d seen the worst parts of him, and still—still—you reached for him. You forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

Niragi clenched his jaw, his free hand tightening around his rifle. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He was a killer. A monster. The kind of man who burned things down just to watch the flames. He’d taken lives. He’d laughed while people screamed. He’d reveled in the chaos and destruction of it all.

But here you were.

Holding his hand.

Soft. Gentle. Kind. Everything he wasn’t.

Everything he wanted.

His fingers squeezed yours tighter, almost desperate, like he could hold onto this feeling—hold onto you—and never let go. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed back, your thumb brushing over his skin again, soft and patient. Like you were telling him it was okay.

Niragi felt something crack inside him.

It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A tiny sliver of warmth, burning beneath his ribs, curling around his heart. It was uncomfortable. It was terrifying. It was everything.

And for the first time in his miserable fucking life, Niragi realized he wasn’t scared of dying.

He was scared of losing you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost bruising, but you didn’t flinch. You just turned to him, eyes soft, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “Still okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking falling apart.

But he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You ask too many questions.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand again. “You never answer them.”

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But still, he held your hand a little tighter.

It was nothing.

It had to be.

Niragi told himself that over and over again, the words pounding in his skull like a drum. It was fucking nothing. You were just soft. Soft people did soft things. That’s all it was.

It was nothing when you brushed the hair from his face back at the apartment, your fingertips gliding over his skin like he wasn’t a fucking monster.

It was nothing when you tied his hair up for him, gentle and patient, your fingers carding through the strands like you actually gave a shit.

It was nothing when you sat close to him on the couch, your shoulder pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him.

It was nothing when you leaned your head on his shoulder, soft and sleepy, like he was something safe.

It was nothing when you pressed your little pink bag into his chest some of these days and asked him to hold it while you fixed your shoes. When you giggled because it looked ridiculous, this big, dangerous man holding your delicate little things. When you thanked him after, like it actually meant something.

It was nothing when you cried after he killed that man and still let him wipe your tears away. When you leaned into him, small and shaking, while he whispered quiet, cruel things into your ear, his hand stroking your hair. When you let him carry you after, your soft little body in his arms, trusting him not to drop you, not to hurt you.

It was nothing when you slept in his arms, soft breaths ghosting over his neck, your fingers curling into his shirt. When he stayed awake the whole night, walking, then sitting down, feeling the rise and fall of your body with every breath.

It was nothing when you turned to him just now, holding out your hand, soft and open, and waited for him to take it. When you squeezed his fingers and smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world. When you asked if he was okay, like you actually cared.

It was nothing.

But then why did it feel like he was fucking burning?

Niragi’s grip on your hand tightened, his nails digging into your skin. You winced slightly but didn’t pull away. Of course you didn’t. You never did.

You were so fucking stupid.

Didn’t you know what he was?

Didn’t you understand what he could do to you?

He could crush your hand in his, snap your fingers one by one just to hear you scream. He could shove you against the nearest wall, pin you there, and take whatever softness you kept offering him, whether you wanted to give it or not. He could kill you. Right here. Right now. Just because he could.

But he wouldn’t.

Because you’d ruined him.

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth so hard his head ached. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy and loud, drowning out everything but the sound of your soft breaths. His skin burned where you touched him, his body screaming for more. More of your warmth. More of your softness. More of you.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He hated himself more.

Because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to care. This world didn’t have room for feelings. Feelings made you weak. Attachments got you killed. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago, and he’d thrived on it. He’d burned every soft part of himself down to ash, replaced it with violence and cruelty and fire.

But you…

You made him want to feel.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath ragged, trying to shove the feeling down. Trying to drown it in the darkness. But it clawed its way back up, sharp and relentless, cutting through him like a fucking knife.

Because the truth was, he wanted you.

He wanted to feel your soft hands on his skin. He wanted to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. He wanted to hear you say his name—soft and sweet, like a prayer—while he carved himself into every inch of you.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t know how to love. All he knew was how to take. How to destroy. How to burn everything he touched to the ground.

And if he kept you… if he let himself have you…

He would ruin you.

Just like he ruined everything else.

Still, he held your hand a little tighter.

And you let him.

It wasn’t enough.

Your hand in his—soft, small, trusting—it wasn’t fucking enough.

Niragi’s grip tightened, his nails biting into your skin, but you didn’t pull away. You never did. You just kept walking, soft little fingers tangled with his, humming some quiet song under your breath. Like you weren’t walking beside someone who’d killed for less than a wrong look.

Like you weren’t inches away from being ripped apart.

Because that’s what he wanted to do.

Tear you open. Rip you apart. Crawl inside and make a home of you.

His blood burned hot beneath his skin, boiling over into something dark and messy, something he could barely choke down. He was never good at choking things down—never good at holding himself back. Not when he wanted something. Not when it burned through him like this, heavy and suffocating, curling around his throat and squeezing until he could barely fucking breathe.

And god, he wanted you.

He wanted you soft and begging underneath him. Wanted to bruise your sweet little skin with his teeth, his fingers, his everything. He wanted to shove you against the nearest wall and make you feel every inch of him, wanted to hear you gasp and whimper and cry for him. He wanted to ruin you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That was the problem.

If it was only that, he could handle it. He could fuck you and forget you, break you open and leave you behind like he had with every other fragile little thing that crossed his path. He could burn through you and walk away without a second thought.

But this? This was worse.

Because he didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to keep you.

He wanted to shove you behind him whenever danger came too close. Wanted to feel your soft little fingers in his hair, tying it back like you did that day in the apartment, soft and patient, like you actually liked taking care of him. Wanted to wrap his arms around you at night and feel your heartbeat against his chest, soft and steady, reminding him that you were still alive.

He wanted to be the only one who got to see you like this—soft and sweet and trusting. He wanted to be the only one you reached for when the darkness pressed in too close. The only one who got to hear your little giggles, your quiet hums, your soft breaths in the dead of night.

He wanted to lock you away. Keep you hidden. Protected. Safe.

His.

His jaw clenched, his body tight with something dark and ugly. He shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t want like this. It wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right.

But Niragi had never been normal. And he sure as hell had never been right.

He was ruined. Rotten. A monster dressed in human skin.

And you… you were an angel.

Soft and sweet and his. Even if you didn’t know it yet. Even if you never would.

He squeezed your hand, dragging you closer, and you stumbled slightly, looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He ignored you, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest, heavy and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

You should run.

You should be scared.

You should have never reached for him in the first place.

But you didn’t run. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed his hand back, soft and patient, like you were comforting him.

And god, that was the worst part.

Because Niragi didn’t deserve comfort. Didn’t deserve kindness. Didn’t deserve you.

But that didn’t mean he was going to let you go.

No.

You were his now.

And he’d burn the whole fucking world down to keep you.

Your yawn was soft. Barely more than a little breath, muffled against the back of your hand. But Niragi heard it. Of course, he heard it. He heard everything when it came to you. The soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement. The quiet little hum you made when you stretched. The gentle sigh that slipped from your lips when you looked up at the stars, eyes soft and distant, as if the sky held some kind of answer you were searching for.

It made him sick.

You yawned again, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, soft and sleepy. Then you turned to him, blinking slowly, your lips parted, voice soft and sweet. “Aren’t you tired?” you asked quietly, concern flickering across your face. “You’ve been walking all day… maybe we should stop soon.”

You were worried about him.

Him.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his throat tight. His fingers curled tighter around yours, his breath ragged, his body taut like a live wire.

Tired?

No. He wasn’t fucking tired. How could he be tired when you looked at him like that? When you spoke to him like that? When you touched him like this, soft and trusting, like you didn’t know you were dancing with a monster?

Tired?

No. He was burning.

He wanted to shove you up against something and watch the fear bloom in your eyes. Wanted to press his body against yours, trap you there, feel every soft inch of you against him. He wanted to hear you gasp—soft and breathless—as he dragged his teeth along your throat. Wanted to feel your pulse flutter against his tongue. Wanted to mark you. Bruise you. Own you.

He wanted to rip that stupid little pink bag from your hands and watch it fall to the ground, forgotten. Wanted to slip his fingers into your hair, tugging hard, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. No choice but to see him. To see what you’d done to him.

He wanted to feel your breath hitch when he leaned in, close enough to taste you. Wanted to feel the way your body trembled beneath his touch—whether from fear or something darker, he didn’t fucking care. He wanted to drag his tongue over your pulse, slow and deliberate, feeling the way it pounded beneath your skin. He wanted to sink his teeth into your throat, hard enough to make you cry out.

He wanted to tear you apart.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Piece by fucking piece.

But more than that…

He wanted to hold you after. Wanted to feel the weight of you in his arms, soft and spent, trusting him to keep you safe. He wanted to run his fingers through your hair, soft and slow, while you drifted off against him. Wanted to feel your breath against his skin, soft and steady, a quiet reminder that you were still alive. Still his.

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t keep things. Niragi destroyed things. He burned them down. Tore them apart. Left them broken and bleeding in his wake.

But you…

You just looked up at him, soft and trusting, your eyes gentle, your lips parted. “Niragi?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

He laughed.

Low. Bitter. Broken.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking ruined.

“Fine.”

You just squeezed his hand again, soft and patient, and kept walking.

Niragi let you.

It hit him like a bullet to the chest.

He wanted you.

Not in the fleeting, careless way he’d wanted things before—not like a cigarette between his lips, burned down to the filter and flicked away without a second thought. Not like the random girls at the Beach, faceless and nameless, used to fill the void for a few desperate moments before he shoved them off and left them behind.

No. This was different. This was worse.

He wanted you in a way that scraped at the inside of his skull and twisted something dark and ugly in his chest. It made his skin feel too tight, his throat dry, his body heavy with a need he couldn’t even begin to name.

He wanted you. So fucking bad.

He wanted to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close, feel the soft press of your body against his. Wanted to bury his face in your neck, breathe you in, drown himself in your warmth until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

He wanted to pin you beneath him, feel you squirm, hear you whimper his name in that soft little voice of yours. Wanted to drag his teeth over your skin, taste you, mark you, ruin you. Wanted to see you fall apart under his hands, wanted to watch the way your body trembled for him, wanted to hear the sweet little sounds you’d make when he finally, finally took you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That would have been easy. That he could handle.

What made it worse—what made it unbearable—was that he wanted more.

He wanted you pressed up against his side, soft and sleepy, your head resting on his chest while his fingers tangled lazily in your hair. Wanted to hear your quiet breaths, steady and soft, lulling him to sleep. Wanted to wake up with you curled against him, your body warm and soft and his.

He wanted to hear you laugh. Wanted to see the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled, wanted to be the reason for it. Wanted to hear you say his name—not in fear, not in pain, but soft and gentle, like a secret just for him.

He wanted to protect you. Keep you safe. Keep you his.

The realization made his stomach twist, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. His hand tightened around yours, but you didn’t flinch.

You shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He was a fucking monster. A killer. A creature made of violence and rage and blood. He’d burned away every soft part of himself a long time ago, torn out anything that even resembled kindness and left it to rot in the dirt.

But then you came along.

Soft and sweet.

You smiled at him. Talked to him. Touched him.

You held his hand like it meant something.

He fucking liked it.

It made him want things. Soft things. Stupid things. Impossible things.

It made him want you. Want want you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost painful now, but you just squeezed his fingers softly, your warmth bleeding into his skin.

He wasn’t okay. He was fucked. Completely, utterly fucked.

Because he wanted you.

More than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire goddamn life.

And he was going to have you.

One way or another.

~

Acceptance came easy to Niragi.

Why wouldn’t it?

He wanted you. He accepted it.

There. Simple. Done.

What was the point in denying it? In pretending he didn’t want to sink his teeth into your soft little neck, mark you up, make sure every inch of you knew you were his? What was the point in fighting the way his fingers twitched with the urge to brush the hair from your face, the way his chest burned whenever you looked at him like he wasn’t a fucking monster?

No. Niragi never ran from what he wanted. He took it. Claimed it. Burned everything down until it was his and only his.

So yeah, he accepted it.

He wanted you. Badly. Madly. Completely.

And now, as you walked beside him, your small hand curled in his like it belonged there, your head drooping a little with exhaustion after walking all night, Niragi didn’t even hesitate.

The whistle ripped from his lips—sharp and loud, echoing off the empty buildings around you—and Chishiya’s steps slowed ahead of you, his shoulders tensing. He turned, shooting Niragi a flat, unimpressed look.

Niragi grinned. God, he lived to piss that little bastard off.

“What?” Chishiya drawled, voice dry, bored, already annoyed.

Niragi tugged on your hand, pulling you gently toward the curb. “She needs to sit.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “I’m fine—”

“Sit.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument, and your eyes softened at the sound of it. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the curb, pulling your pink bag into your lap, and Niragi crouched beside you, his long legs folding easily, his arm resting over his knee.

Chishiya stared at the two of you, his expression unreadable, his gaze flickering briefly to you before landing back on Niragi. “Oh? Since when do you care?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Since it’s my fucking problem if she collapses, genius.”

Chishiya scoffed softly, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “She wouldn’t be collapsing if you let her sleep.”

“And she wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t around to keep her safe.” Niragi shot back. “So how about you shut the fuck up and let me handle it?”

Chishiya stared at him for a long moment, the air tense, electric, and Niragi could see it—the irritation bubbling just beneath Chishiya’s calm facade. It made his blood sing.

But then Chishiya’s gaze flickered back to you, soft and sweet, curled up on the curb, your head resting against your knees, your eyes half-closed with exhaustion, and something flickered behind his eyes. Something dark. Something possessive.

Niragi’s grin slipped.

That was his look.

His hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. He wanted to grab Chishiya by the throat, slam him into the pavement, tear that bored little smirk off his face. He wanted to make sure Chishiya never looked at you like that again.

But then you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, your warmth seeping into his skin, and just like that, the rage melted away.

He glanced down at you, his breath catching in his throat. God, you were so fucking soft. So warm. It made something inside him twist, tight and painful, burning hot.

Chishiya could watch all he wanted. It didn’t fucking matter.

Because you were here. With him.

And Niragi would tear the whole fucking world apart before he ever let that change.

He was not scared.

No. Absolutely not. Scared was for weaklings. For soft, pathetic little things that cowered in the corner and hoped the world would spare them. Niragi wasn’t scared. Niragi made people scared. He was the monster in the dark, the gun against your skull, the last laugh you’d ever hear before the world went black. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t get scared.

Except… well.

Okay, maybe there was this one thing. One teeny, tiny thing. And by thing, he meant you.

But that didn’t count. That was different.

He just… He didn’t want to fuck it up, okay? That’s all. No big deal.

You were warm. Soft. Sweet. Everything he’d never had. And now you were here, sitting next to him, leaning your tired little head against his shoulder, trusting him like he was something good—and for once in his miserable fucking life, he had something to lose.

And that? Yeah. That made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to think about.

So no, he wasn’t scared. He was just… cautious. Smart. Calculating. Yeah. That.

Because what if you said no? What if you looked up at him with those soft eyes of yours, and there was fear there? Or worse—pity. Like you felt sorry for him. As if he was some kind of pathetic little stray you’d picked up off the street. As if the twisted, ugly thing inside him could be fixed.

And what the hell would he do then?

Niragi tightened his grip on his knees, his jaw clenching. No. No way. He wasn’t scared. He just wasn’t a fucking idiot. That was all. He’d bide his time. Play it smart. No need to rush. You were already here.

Meanwhile, Chishiya—fucking Chishiya—just stood there. Staring. Like the smug little bastard he was.

Oh, Niragi knew Chishiya was watching him. Always watching. Niragi could practically feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. And sure, it could’ve been another one of Niragi’s little mood swings—god knew he had plenty of those—but no. This was different. Chishiya knew better.

Chishiya was smart. Annoyingly smart. The kind of smart that made Niragi want to bash his head in with the nearest blunt object. And right now, Niragi could practically hear the little gears turning in that pretty head of his. Trying to figure him out.

Yeah, good luck with that, asshole.

Chishiya shifted slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the two of you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Niragi could feel the judgment radiating off him in waves.

If Niragi had a bullet, it’d be in Chishiya’s head right about now.

Yeah, the asshole wasted all of them.

But you? Oh, you had no idea.

You just sat there, half-dead, blinking sleepily at the empty street like the world’s saddest little creature. Niragi glanced down at you, his scowl softening. Christ. You looked pathetic. And adorable. And pathetic. Like a wet kitten that had been left out in the rain. All droopy eyes and soft little sighs.

Niragi shifted slightly, his arm pressing against yours. You didn’t even react. Just blinked slowly, like you were seconds from passing out, your pink bag clutched tightly in your lap. God, you were so fucking cute it made him sick.

“You okay?” Niragi asked, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. “Mm. Yeah. Just… tired.” You yawned, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Bleh.”

Bleh.

Niragi almost laughed. Jesus. You were ridiculous.

But then you shifted closer, rubbing your head against his shoulder, Niragi felt his chest tighten. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head, resting his chin against the top of your head. You didn’t pull away. You never pulled away.

And that? That was almost worse than if you did.

Because it made him want. God, he wanted. Wanted to pull you into his lap and hold you there, feel every soft inch of you pressed against him. Wanted to bury his face in your hair and just… breathe. Wanted to tell you that you were his. That he’d kill for you. Burn the whole fucking world down for you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he just sat there. Quiet. Still. His arm brushing against yours, his fingers curling into his palm, his breath slow and steady.

And Chishiya? Oh, Chishiya saw everything.

Niragi could feel his gaze. But Chishiya didn’t say a word. Just stood there. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

Niragi squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest.

Not scared. Not scared. Not scared.

Just… waiting.

Because eventually, you’d see.

Eventually, you’d understand.

You were his.

And one way or another… he was going to make sure you never forgot it.

But the pavement was cold. Not that you minded much. It was kind of nice, actually. Cool against your legs, the rough texture digging into your skin through the fabric of your pants.

You blinked slowly, your eyes half-lidded, watching the empty street in front of you. The buildings stretched up into the sky, dark and quiet, their windows hollow and empty. Everything felt still. Silent. Like the world was holding its breath.

You sighed, your head tipping slightly forward, not partly resting on Niragi’s collarbone, too. He was warm. Really warm. Almost too warm, but you didn’t care. You leaned into him, your body soft and pliant, your eyelids fluttering shut for a moment before you forced them open again.

“How come we’re not there yet?” you mumbled, your voice soft and slurred, like you were half-asleep. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

Niragi shifted beside you, his body tensing slightly, but you barely noticed.

“We’ll get there when we get there.” he muttered, his voice low.

You blinked slowly, trying to process that. It felt like you’d been walking forever. Was the Beach even real? Or was it just some stupid dream? Some distant promise you’d all made up to keep yourselves moving?

You sighed again, your fingers curling into the fabric of your bag, holding it tightly against your chest. Your whole body ached, your legs heavy and sluggish, your eyes burning with exhaustion.

You just wanted to sleep. Right here. On the cold pavement. It wouldn’t be so bad.

Chishiya stood a few steps away, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you quietly, his eyes flickering between you and Niragi, taking in the way you leaned against him, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the slow, steady blinks that meant you were seconds away from passing out.

“We should stop for the night.” Chishiya said softly. “She’s tired.”

Niragi scoffed. “No shit, genius.” His arm shifted slightly, pressing against yours. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m not fine.” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired.”

Niragi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll live.”

You pouted, your brow furrowing. “But I’m tired.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You were already slipping further into sleep, your body growing heavier, your head resting more firmly against his shoulder.

Chishiya could see the way Niragi’s jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you, the way his body tensed every time you shifted against him.

“Just let her sleep.” Chishiya said quietly.

Niragi scowled. “Mind your own business.”

Chishiya raised a brow, but said nothing.

The silence stretched out, heavy and tense, the only sound your soft, steady breaths.

“Fine.” Niragi muttered. “We’ll stay.”

Chishiya smirked. “Good choice.”

Niragi glared at him, but said nothing.

Instead, he shifted slightly, pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you against him.

Niragi hated him.

God, he fucking hated him.

Every little thing about Chishiya made his skin crawl. The way he stood there, all quiet and smug, like he had it all figured out. Like he was some fuckass puppet master, sitting back and watching while everyone danced on his little strings. It made Niragi’s fingers itch for the rifle next to him on the ground. It made him want to hurt something.

But the worst part? The thing that really twisted the knife?

It was the way you looked at him.

Even now—half-asleep, head resting against Niragi’s shoulder, body soft in his arms—you still glanced at Chishiya. Still checked for him. Niragi could see it in the soft flutter of your lashes, the subtle tilt of your head, the way your gaze flicked over to that quiet fucker.

And Chishiya? Oh, he saw it too.

That was the thing about Chishiya. He didn’t have to say a damn word, and Niragi could still hear the condescension, loud and clear. It was in the slight raise of his brow, the curve of his lips—just shy of a smirk. Like he knew exactly what Niragi was thinking. Like he knew exactly what Niragi wanted.

Because of course he fucking did. Chishiya was smart. Too smart. He saw everything. Saw the way Niragi’s grip on you tightened, the way his thumb brushed slowly over your arm, the way his body angled towards yours, like you were something to be shielded.

Chishiya wasn’t threatened.

He didn’t need to be.

It drove Niragi insane.

And what drove him even more insane was the fact that you never seemed to notice.

You sat there, pressed against Niragi’s side, your body soft and sweet and warm, and Niragi wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

But that wasn’t all he wanted. No. Niragi was twisted. Fucked up beyond repair. He wanted to mark you. Ruin you. Make sure that every time you closed your eyes, it was him you saw. Not Chishiya. Not anyone else. Just him.

And yet—for all his fire, for all his rage—he still held back.

Because for the first time in his miserable fucking life… he was afraid.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not even to himself. But it was there, festering in the pit of his stomach. The fear that if he pushed too hard, too fast, you’d slip through his fingers. That you’d look at him the way everyone else did. With fear. With disgust.

So instead, he just sat there. Silent. Tense. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Chishiya understood.

No, he didn’t want to understand. He wasn’t supposed to care about things like this. Not anymore.

But then you showed up.

Soft. Sweet. Open. An anomaly in this fucked up world. And somehow, without even trying, you wormed your way under his skin.

You were quiet. Gentle. So goddamn kind it made his teeth ache. And Chishiya hated himself for it, but there were nights—long, sleepless nights—where he’d lie awake and wonder what it would be like to touch you. To have your hands on him, soft and warm, tracing over the angles of his ribs. To feel you curl against his side, sleepy and trusting. To have you.

And Niragi? Niragi wanted the same thing.

That’s what made Chishiya’s blood boil. Not that Niragi wanted you. But that Niragi got to hold you. That Niragi got to touch you. While Chishiya stood there, silent and still, watching from the shadows.

He could see it, clear as day. The way Niragi looked at you. Like you were something holy. Something to be worshiped. Something to be owned.

Chishiya wanted to tear his fucking throat out.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, arms crossed, gaze flicking between the two of you.

Because that was the difference between them.

Niragi burned hot. Chishiya stayed cold.

But they both wanted you.

(AN: Listening to The Red Means I Love You while writing the part where Niragi holds ur hand is an otherworldly experience I’m FLOATING) (Next song on the playlist, ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIIIIS) (writing these as I’m writing the story itself, I’ll put it at the end of the post later) (ily) (the playlist I have for the fic is insane)

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth

[merakimaiden]

Mando’s Girl

Pairing : Din Djarin x fem!reader

Genre : Smut (18+)

Word count : 4078 (longest fic yet holy hell)

Summary : Catching you crying over your ex who doesn’t give a shit about you, secrets are revealed as your boss proves just how much he doesn’t deserve you.

Warnings : Insecure reader, sweet but super possessive Din (lowkey some jealousy), reassurance, praise, spanking, body worshipping if you squint, oral sex (f receiving), choking, rough p in v sex, squirting, and kinky sex tape making 😎

A/N: Getting back into writing after a year, forgive me if it sucks. Missing Din, Grogu and the Razor Crest. Lowkey dubcon, lowkey self indulgent, lowkey a badly written fic, my first Din smut lmao I just need Din to fuck some sense into me Din calls you mesh’la many times cause you are :3

Translations : mesh’la (beautiful)

Hey, you there?

[Delivered 8 hours ago]

You checked the message, sighing as you did. You were sitting on a crate in the Razor Crest’s hull. You just finished doing the necessary chores around the ship. You fed the child, gave him a bath, as well as prepared a meal for your employer. You finished all that and more in the span of eight hours, and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply.

You hovered your thumbs over your datapad, carefully thinking of what to text. You quickly typed out a few messages at one go, immediately sent it then placed your datapad face down to avoid thinking about it.

You looked around the hull, fiddling with your fingers as you searched for something to do, anything to distract you. You settled on going upstairs to the cockpit to let your employer know that dinner’s ready.

As you reached the cockpit, you knocked the side of the wall, watching the shiny beskar helmet that was peeking out of the pilot seat’s headrest, the metal reflecting the azure hue of hyperspace tilt to the right before speaking.

“Mando, dinner’s ready, do you wanna have it here or downstairs?” you asked.

“Downstairs. Go tuck Grogu in for the night, then I’ll go,” he replied. You nodded before realising he couldn’t see your reply so you whispered a soft ‘okay’ before heading downstairs.

As you descended the ladder, you turned your head towards the child who was busy chewing on a toy, before approaching him and carrying him.

“Grogu, dada said it’s bedtime.” You pulled his little green hand away from his mouth and placed the toy down as Grogu whined in disagreement. Your gaze softens as you watch his tiny sad face, his big dark eyes glistening.

“I’m sorry sweetie I don’t make the rules, I promise I’ll play more with you tomorrow okay? We’ll even play hide and seek.” You kissed his forehead and tapped the control panel at the side of the bunker door, watching the door slide open before placing him in the hammock above Mando’s bed.

“Now now, go to sleep for me okay? Dream about catching frogs and watching fishies swimming for me.” You smiled at him as you gently shook the hammock side to side, slowly swinging it to lull him to sleep.

You waited there for a few more minutes, making sure Grogu shuts his eyes and drifts into slumber before turning off the bunker light and closing the door. You then grabbed your datapad and stuffed it into your back pocket as you went back to the cockpit.

“Grogu’s asleep, you can go have dinner now,” you sighed as you walked into the cockpit, standing behind the Mandalorian’s chair. He nodded once then tapped a few buttons on the console, turning the autopilot on before standing and looking at you.

“Thank you.”

You gave him a quick smile and watched as he descended the ladder, then pulled out your datapad from your back pocket and plopped down onto the passenger’s seat.

All alone in the cockpit, you shut your eyes for a moment and took a shaky breath before you switched on your datapad.

No new messages.

You scoffed and shook your head, annoyed, but also hurt. You tapped on the chat and reread your messages you sent your ex with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. You scrolled up to the last time he talked to you, and scrolled all the way down to the most recent set of messages you sent him. You did it over and over again, rereading the messages as if it will magically make new messages appear. You were the only one doing the talking, all his replies were one worded or he just doesn’t reply, causing you to double text.

He promised to stay in your life. He promised to take care of you. He promised to never abandon you.

Your mind drifts away, overthinking about what’s he’s probably doing right now. Probaby spending time and talking to his so called amazing girlfriend he cheated on you with and fucking her, telling her how much he loves her…

You jolted as you heard the Mandalorian calling your name. You quickly switched the datapad off and turned to look at him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Huh?” You blinked.

His gloved hand extended out to touch your cheek, and as he pulled his hand back, you saw liquid coating the tips of his dry leather gloves.

His helmet tilted slightly as he waited for an answer. You gulped and wiped your tears quickly with both hands before clutching onto your datapad.

“I- um, it’s nothing, just something got caught into my eyes-” you started an attempt to explain before he cut you off.

“Cut the crap. Why are you crying?”

You looked at him guiltily and tried your best to hide the datapad away from his sight as his helmet tilted away from your face, watching your movements before he reached out in a split second, grabbing the datapad from your hands.

“No don’t-”

It was too late. He switched the datapad on wordlessly and immediately saw your chats with your ex, his helmet straight as he reads it. He took in a big inhale, his chest expanding as he scrolled upwards and continued reading.

A minute of silence later, he exhales slowly and gives you the datapad back gently. Embarrassed, you quickly grabbed it and hid it under your thigh.

“Why are you still talking to him?” He bit out as he watched you hide the datapad.

“It’s complicated, okay Mando? I just-” you started.

“Enlighten me.” He folded his arms and shifted his weight onto his right side as he waited for an explanation.

You looked at him and then put your head in your hands, massaging your forehead and temples for a few seconds before pulling your hands back towards your hair and neck. You sighed and brought your hands back down, clasping it together.

You looked at him from the corner of your eyes and watched as he loomed over you, waiting for an explanation. You sighed.

“It’s… complicated, okay? He- he cheated on me the entire time we were dating but I don’t want to lose him, I know I’m stupid. I’m so attached, I need to be cared for, I-

You gulped.

“I’m scared to be alone.”

“You have me and Grogu, you’re not alone.” The Mandalorian interjects.

“I know, but it’s not what I meant,” you quickly added.

“Then?”

“I’m scared to be alone. I’m scared I'll end up alone… with no one to love me,” you spoke quietly, looking down at your fingers to avoid his gaze.

He stood there wordlessly for a few seconds, taking in your words. You took a deep breath, the silence making you uncomfortable.

“That’s not true,” he finally replied calmly, causing you to turn your head to look at him.

“Yes it is, Mando.” You shook your head in frustration before standing up quickly, wanting to avoid any more confrontation. However, before you could get away from him to retreat to your quarters and cry, he grabbed your wrist.

You gasped softly at his sudden hold on your wrist, then pulled and twisted your arm as you attempted to break free.

“Let me go Mando I’m not in the mood-’’

“That’s not true and you know it. We both know it,” he spoke clearly.

Your eyebrows pulled together as you squinted, looking at him with a confused expression, not understanding what he’s trying to say.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking Mando, but it’s all false, I’ll end up alone like I always do, no one there to love me or even think about me-”

“I think about you.’’ He interjected again.

“I already told you, Mando not in that way-’’

“I think about how pretty you are, how pretty and smart.”

You rolled your eyes. What a bunch of lies. He’s just saying that to make you feel better, you thought to yourself.

Just then he pulls you in close, holding both your wrists tightly to make you listen.

“Don’t.” He continues as he places his palms at the back of your hands, pushing them to rest against the cool surface of his shiny beskar cuirass, causing your lips to part as you look down at your hands on his chest.

“I think about your lovely laugh when you play with the kid, I think about your caring nature, how you look out for us, I think about your gorgeous body, the way your hips sway when you walk.”

You chuckled awkwardly and looked away, his fake words annoyingly making you breathless.

“Mando-”

“I think about the way you moan softly in the shower as you pleasure yourself, pleasure yourself to the thought of me when you think I can’t hear you say my name.”

Oh.

“T-that’s not true, you couldn't possibly hear me.”

“Oh, but I can mesh’la, my helmet enhances sounds.”

Fuck.

You exhaled shakily, looking everywhere else except the dark visor of his helmet. Just then, he holds your chin gently, tilting your face upwards to make you look at him.

“Do you like me mesh’la?”

“W-well yeah, you’re funny-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You gulped, your throat feeling dry out of sudden as you struggle to speak.

“Do you like me, mesh’la?” Mando pressed again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Looking into the intimidating, dark ‘T’ of his visor, you nodded in reply slowly.

“That’s what I thought.” He tapped your chin with the back of his finger, pleased with your answer.

He continues, “So what I don’t understand is, why are you still talking to that piece of shit when I’m right here?”

You pulled away and shook your head.

“I don’t blame him. I”m so needy all the time-”

“So what if you’re needy?”

“-and the distance, he’s far.”

“So what? I would cross galaxies just to be with you. It’s not a fucking excuse to be unfaithful.”

His hands move towards your wrists again, holding them tightly. You can tell he was getting pissed off by the second, so you stayed silent.

“He is nothing but a fucking dickhead. He doesn't deserve you and you know it. Tell me you know it.”

Silence.

He moves one gloved hand towards your neck slowly, resting his pointer finger and thumb under your jaw, squeezing gently.

“Tell me you fucking know it.”

You nod quickly, gulping against his hand before you yelp as he grabs your neck with slight pressure and pulls you forward towards him, your hands scrambling to take his hand off his hold on your neck before he bends you forward over the cockpit console. He releases your neck, then places his hand on your back to keep you down.

Before you can protest, you gasp loudly as he yanks your pants down in one swift motion, leaving you in your panties. Just then, you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek.

You yelp and moan softly as the pain on your skin is soothed immediately after with his gloved hand.

“Tell me mesh’la, what do you know?”

You stayed silent, head feeling giddy in pleasure and pain.

He spanks you again a few times in a row, each spank getting harder, causing your skin to tickle in pain. You rubbed your thighs together.

“I want an answer. What is it that you know?”

You whimper loudly as you shut your eyes, trying to think of your conversation with him right before he took control. You open your eyes when you remember.

“I- I know that he doesn't deserve me, Mando.”

“There we go.”

The Mandalorian hums in pleasure as he rubs his gloved palm against your sore skin, rubbing it slowly and gently, soothing the sensitive and swollen area before he pulls away for a quick second. As he returns, you gasp and moan softly as his now bare, warm hands push up your shirt, pushing it upwards to remove it from your body completely. Following the action, your nipples harden and goosebumps form all over your body as the cool air of the ship hits your warm skin. You blushed, realising you were left in just your panties, while he was still covered in his armour from head to toe.

You stiffen as you hear the sound of air hissing, then the sound of metal being placed on the console beside you. You turned to look, but was quickly stopped by Mando as he held the back of your neck.

“Don’t look,” he spoke gently, his unmodulated voice catching you off guard, causing you to jolt slightly as you felt his warm breath fan against your neck, right under your ear. His voice sounded so warm, clear and husky without the helmet in the way, making you moan softly to yourself as you heard it. You wanted to reply, but you couldn’t as you felt his lips brush against your skin, placing light kisses all over your neck, slowly moving lower and lower down the back of your body.

You shut your eyes as he continued placing kisses all over your back. He then kneeled onto the floor with a clang, the sound of his beskar armour scraping against the metal floor of the ship as he kissed down your hips and all over the globes of your clothed ass.

“So pretty, so warm, so soft.” He squeezed your ass with both hands and caresses it, causing you to gasp and moan softly before he continues,

“Doesn’t deserve to touch you or even look at you.”

He then hooked his fingers into the band of your panties, pulling it down your ass and legs slowly until they reach your ankles.

“Wonder if you taste as good as you look,” he whispered lowly, just enough for you to catch his words.

His thumbs moved closer to the cleft of your ass, pulling the skin away to spread your folds from the back before he licked a slow strip from your clit to your opening without warning. You moan his name out loud, biting your lip as you rest your head against the console, mindful of the buttons and controls.

He repeats the motion, licking from your clit to opening, bottom to top over and over again for a few times before pulling away with a suck on your clit, causing you to jolt. He immediately goes back in, circling his tongue around your clit, causing your legs to tremble before he pushes his tongue against your opening slightly, twirling his tongue around as you moan and whine in pleasure.

You arch your back involuntarily, the motion pushing your pussy backwards into his face as you shut your eyes, moaning loudly while he places both hands on your ass to grab it tightly as he continues eating you out.

He moans, muffled against your pussy, sending vibrations to your sensitive area before pulling away with a loud, lewd slurp after a while. He spanks your ass one last time as he gets back onto his feet, then rubs his big warm hands all over the span of your back.

“So tasty, so sweet, so perfect.” He squeezes your ass, causing you to gasp and moan. He continues, “What a perfect pretty thing, I want to make you all mine. All mine.”

You whimper and move to rest your top half on your forearms, nodding eagerly in reply as one of his hands moves towards your jaw, before he shoves two of his thick fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his digits, obediently licking and sucking on them as he moans.

His other hand moves to free his erect dick from the confines of his pants, leaving the rest of his body covered.

You suddenly feel the fat, blunt tip of his dick rub against your folds, coating himself with your wet pussy as he moves it front and back against you. You feel the size of his length sliding in between your folds, causing you to whine impatiently.

“Tell me you’re mine, mesh’la. Tell me you’re my girl and I’ll give you everything.”

You nod eagerly. “Please Mando, I’m yours, no one else’s, I’m your girl please-”

You gasp out loud, unable to finish your pleading as his tip pushes into your opening, stretching you out as you moan. He leaves the tip in for a bit before pulling out, then pushes himself all the way in fully.

He hisses as you moan loudly, your head dropping onto the console rather harshly. His hand moves from your mouth towards your head to soothe the sore spot quickly, before he drags his hands down your bare back slowly, then settles on holding your hips firmly.

“So beautiful, so perfect, so wet, f-feel so good,” Mando stuttered out as your pussy fluttered around him at his praise.

He slowly pulls out until the tip is left in, then pushes back in, repeating the motion at a slow and steady pace.

“Oh, Mando, feels so full, so f- ull,” you moaned, his girthy dick sliding in and out of you, giving you so much pleasure.

He moans and growls quietly as he grips your hips tighter and kicks your legs apart further, before picking up the pace, moving his hips back and forth against your ass faster and harder.

You shut your eyes and grab onto the front of the console as your mouth parts in a silent scream, your breath stuck in your throat. Nothing but the lewd plapping sounds of skin slapping against each other filling the cockpit. You finally catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling before moaning out loud and brokenly.

The Mandalorian moans with you as he continues pistoning his dick in and out of you, fucking you deep and fast. He grabs your hips tightly, before extending one hand out to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you backwards to rest your warm back flush against his cold armour. You hiss at the sudden cold contact, but forget about it quickly as his other hand moves to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

He leans in and rests his stubbled chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear before dragging his teeth against your earlobe lightly.

“All mine to love, all mine to worship,” he grunts before continuing, “to fuck.”

You mewl in pleasure, your legs trembling at the added stimulation. You shut your eyes as your lips part in a gasp, feeling his big length sliding in and out of you over and over again as his thick digits tease your fluttering pussy. Your hand moves behind you and flaps around before finding purchase on the Mandalorian’s soft mop of hair on his head and tugging on it tightly, earning a growl from the man.

Just as you were enjoying it, Mando pulled away completely, removing his hands and dick from you, causing your hand that was tugging on his soft hair to drop loosely on your side. He reaches out to pick his helmet off the console and puts it back on. He leans away from you to leave.

Your eyes open as your face drops. You were about to say something before he leans back forward and grabs a fistful of your hair again, then immediately shoves himself back inside of you. You shut your eyes tightly and moaned his name out brokenly. His pace changed as he growled, fucking you with even more effort, even harder and faster now.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to make eye contact with your datapad’s camera with the flash on.

“Look mesh’la, tell that jerk how good I’m making you feel.” His modulated voice returns.

You moan and bite your lip at the sight of the filthy action by the Mandalorian, going cross-eyed when he suddenly drives into the deepest part of your body and stays still.

“S-so good. So good. So deep- fuck.” You moan as you go crossed eyed again, involuntarily throwing your head back against his helmet with a dull ‘thump’ as the Mandalorian keeps grinding his length deep inside of you.

His hand releases the tight grip on your hair and moves it towards your neck, holding you firmly and pulling you backwards so your face is visible to the camera, arching your back in the process. Your ass extends out even more at the action, prompting him to start slamming inside of you over and over again, slow and hard. Your ass and tits jiggle with each contact of his hips as your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell him, tell him mesh’la, who does this pussy belong to?” He urges, hiis helmet tilting to the side, resting on your shoulder as he continues, “Who do you belong to? Who gets to worship you and make you feel good?”

You moan brokenly, whimpering as you try your best to reply.

“Y- ou Man- do, you do, f-fuck.”

Your reply was interrupted with every slam of his hips against your ass. Mando chuckled darkly, his hand moving away from your neck to squeeze your tits and slap them.

“Yeah? Who’s girl are you, hm? Tell him.”

He drives himself deeper into you, making you moan brokenly as you feel his blunt tip brushing against something spongy deep inside of you, the action prompting you to feel a tightness forming deep in your belly.

“I’m- I’m Mando’s girl- no one else’s.” You whined out with an effort.

“There we go, such a sweet, sweet girl. So glad she’s all mine,” he spoke in a taunting tone, his helmet tilting sideways to admire your flushed face before tilting towards the datapad at the last few words while he fiddled with your nipples, twisting them in between his fingers as he continued grinding his hips against your ass.

He ended the recording and stopped his motions momentarily to tap a few buttons on your datapad, giving you a breather while he sends the sinful video to your ex before he chucked your datapad to the side. He then flipped you over, your back flush against the console. You yelp and whine as he held the back of your thighs and smacked his dick against your sensitive pussy a few times, giving you a chance to see his thick veiny dick, making you moan before he slides himself back in and starts fucking you fast. Your tits jiggle with every thrust while his hand moves to rest on your mound, his thumb rubbing quick tight circles on your neglected clit.

You throw your head back against the console and whine loudly at the extreme stimulation on your clit and pussy, your pussy clamping down around his pistoning length as your legs shake uncontrollably.

“C’mon my mesh’la, be a good girl and cum for me.” His modulator crackles as he breathes out in between moans, holding your thigh while he continues rubbing your clit and fucking you fast, his pace never faltering.

You feel the tightness build up in your stomach again as your pussy flutters around him. You squeal as your body convulses, before liquid suddenly squirts out of you, dampening his armour and flight suit.

Mando moans loudly as he stops rubbing your pussy and slows his movements, grabbing your tit in his hand and squeezing gently as he watches you come undone for him. You blink a few times, focusing your vision to watch him as you breathe heavily.

He tilts his helmet back and hisses, exposing his covered neck before he pulls his dick out of you quickly, then strokes it a few times over your pussy before spurting warm, creamy liquid all over the top of your mound.

You moan and lick your lips as you watch your skin get painted with his cum, the both of you breathing heavily to catch your breaths. He pumps his dick against your pussy a few more times, slowing his movements until the last drop of cum coats your skin.

You look up at him with your jaw hanging slightly as Mando leans in, resting his helmet against your forehead.

The both of you stayed silent for a while in that position, your breaths slowing down and syncing together before Mando speaks.

“Din.”

“Huh?” You breathed out, in a daze.

“My name is Din, sweet girl.”

A/N : Love possessive and jealous Din so much. Might be a multipart in the future if it gets a lot of interactions :)

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated :)

[pedriache]

Morning cuddles — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pedri, who always insists on morning cuddles before the day can start.

Word count: 450

Disclaimer/s: just fluff!

A/N: Please bear with me i’ve never done this before… Sorry if there’s spelling mistakes . . . Feel free to give me requests! 🩷

Waking up to the sun beaming down on your boyfriend’s face was quite simply the best thing in the world. The way his rosy cheeks shone brighter under the direct sunlight, making his every feature pop was something you’d grown to adore more and more since he started staying at your apartment.

Ever since his injury all those weeks ago, he’d needed assistance with a lot of basic needs and you were more than happy to help. If anything, it was a bonus for you as it meant you spent all your free time together. Which was something you hadn’t had the luxury of in the two years since you’d started dating.

With a soft sigh, you quietly begin to pull yourself out of bed, only for a warm hand to pull you back. A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you turn to face the tan man. His sleepy face was adorned with a sly grin as his eyes stayed shut.

“Pedri…” You drawl, a knowing smile on your face. “I have to make breakfast and feed Meimi!” Just as you say that, you hear a distant meow outside your door, only further proving your point.

Despite knowing you have duties to attend to, the thought of missing out on a few more minutes of cuddling was a struggle you faced daily.

Pedri pouts, his eyes slowly fluttering open. “Please?” He says in his upmost pouty tone, once again something you’d grown accustomed to in the past month.

“How about…” You tap your bottom lip, feigning to think, “I make us breakfast and feed Mei, then I come back here and we eat breakfast in bed? We can cuddle and be lazy for the rest of the day. How does that sound?”

The tan man’s pout deepens at the idea, nodding his head reluctantly with a long sigh. “I guess I can wait a little longer.”

Rolling your eyes, you stare at him for a moment, admiring everything that was your boyfriend. From the dark circles under his eyes, to his perfectly pink lips, to his hair that slightly curls at the ends. He was everything you’d ever loved and so much more.

You groan as you give in, fully laying back down and tugging the corners of the bedspread back around you. Pedri doesn’t try to suppress the smirk that began growing on his lips as he pulls you closer, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

As you lay with your bodies intertwined, he places a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” He murmurs, his hands drawing unknown shapes on your hip.

“You’re annoying.” You huff, although the slight twitch to your lips gives you away.

@halfwayhearted this one is for you bonk. i love you ^_^~ Now it’s your turn.

[konigofmyheart]

overly cautious dad!könig…

(fluffiest fluff/silly, gn!reader + baby, könig’s frets unnecessarily but all is okay, i promise <3, gentle!könig)

bärchen: little bear

dad!könig who’s practically beside himself every time your bärchen shows any displeasure, no matter how small.

if bärchen’s crying, and has been changed, fed, and is just in a bad mood, he’s cradling the baby, apologizing profusely. for what, he doesn’t know, but his baby shouldn’t be crying like this, liebling! he could do better, clearly (it takes him a while to understand that sometimes babies just throw fits).

if bärchen’s playing with foam blocks, little brow furrowed because they can’t get the wall they’ve built to stay up, könig’s there, instantly trying to make it sturdier, anything so his bärchen won’t be upset. soon they’ve got a nice arch built, your baby giggling and clapping their chubby little hands, könig smiling so proudly.

once your bärchen starts waddling around, you best bet every single hard surface is completely baby proofed. foam buffers everywhere, rounded plastic on all edges, even the ones way too high for your baby to even reach. könig’s that overly cautious, but there’s one tiny little thing he didn’t think about…

you have the fridge open, getting the dinner ingredients out when your bärchen suddenly waddles forward, making to grab for the ketchup bottle. a little bonk sounds, and your baby just makes a soft disgruntled noise, mildly annoyed at the light tap of the fridge shelf on their head. bärchen grabs the ketchup and starts waddling away, entirely unfazed and babbling happily, til könig swoops in, scooping your baby up and practically losing it.

he’s checking bärchen’s forehead with a flashlight, eyes tearing as he clutches his baby close, cursing himself for not thinking of padding the fridge shelves. “get the diaper bag, liebling, we have to go to the hospital!” meanwhile, your baby’s just like why is he crying??? and you’re just smiling a little, going to rub könig back as you explain your baby’s fine, it wasn’t anything serious. for the rest of the evening, bärchen is under arrest, confined to the padded playpen in the center of the living room, könig hardly blinking as he watches for any sign of a concussion

“…you can never be too careful, liebling”

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Hello first timer here. May I please request for The 4 LADS with a selective mute MC wherein MC finally says their names for the first time ever

Hello to my first ever request!! ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ Very interesting, I have never tried this one before! I did some research and hope I can do it justice ^^

HCs under the cut for Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus

Content: SFW, fluff, mild canon spoilers in Zayne's part (main storyline released thus far), reader is MC, gender neutral MC, use of petnames for MC, selective mutism (which also means a slight canon divergence), early stages of a romantic relationship, no "y/n"

Sylus's is a bit different as I think his and MC's relationship would look the most different in the early stages since there's the whole "can't resonate with you if I despite you" angle, which wouldn't at the very least be *helped* by MC's condition pfft.

If you see any mistakes contradicting the above info, or if you find this disrespectful in any way, please let me know!

LADS LIs with a selectively mute MC

Xavier

Xavier, who isn't very talkative himself, falls in sync with you quite fast after you meet. At first you are wary of his intense gaze and the extended silence it carries as he observes you from a comfortable distance. But one day, you begin to look back at him, if only out of defiance, and that's when you start noticing.

Small head movements to question or to confirm, taps on the table and later on your arm or shoulder. Text messages with lots of emojis, shared playlists for different moods. And if all else fails, a gentle squeeze of your hand, to let your Evol do the talking for you.

He has been listening all along.

In comes one of those days. The mission goes well, but you are left dead tired, barely able to make it to your apartment. Xavier escorts you home, and as he wishes you goodnight, you grab his sleeve. Whatever emotion is showing on your face is enough to make him melt, and he turns back around, petting your hair.

"Got it, got it," he chuckles and lets himself be led to the couch, where you snuggle against him after putting on a random cartoon on the TV.

He is warm, and his hoodie is soft against your cheek. You listen to his slowing heartbeats as his eyelids begin to droop, his arm a solid anchor around your shoulders. At that moment you realize that this is how you want all of your missions to end: in this safe, comforting warmth.

"Xavier?" you call out, twiddling with the pullstrings of his hoodie. He stirs against you and lets out a questioning hum. You lift your head to look him in the eyes, and see them shining with something you dare to hope is adoration. He tightens his arm around you and patiently waits.

"Thank you," you finally decide to tell him, knowing that he knows it's about much more than today's mission.

"Think nothing of it, starlight," he murmurs and rests his forehead against yours.

Zayne

You forgot that Zayne knows. Of course he knows, that man doesn't forget anything, annoying as it may be sometimes. During your first appointment with him you try to bring it up, hoping that your old familiarity with him would help ease the tension. It doesn't, and in the end you have to resort to gesturing at your chart, cheeks burning in humiliation.

"I remember," Zayne tells you, his voice quiet, "don't worry about it. Just find a way that's comfortable for you."

On a rational level, it makes sense. He is a dedicated, renowned doctor who must have had first-hand experience with others like you beforehand. But on an emotional level you are on your toes for a good while. Zayne has a tendency to scold you about your heart condition, your recklessness on missions, your bad eating and sleeping habits. You just kind of... assume that this would be next on the list.

But the insistence never comes. Instead, there is a notepad and and a pen on his desk one day. The pen has a tiny snowglobe at the end that glitters prettily when you write with it. Zayne makes no mention of it when you come in, nor when you pick the pen up and start writing.

Afterwards you take that notepad everywhere you go with him. You write down your comments to him, your observations of the world around you, your feelings that are too precious to send him over text messages. You revel in the tiny upwards curl of his lips when he reads everything over, the hint of mirth in his hazel eyes that makes your heart flutter.

"Care to show me what you have written today?" he asks you one night as he is driving you back home from a restaurant. The car is standing still in traffic, and you are finishing your notes on that night's menu selection (the chocolate pudding had been especially delicious). You lean back on the passenger seat and look at his handsome profile, smiling to yourself.

"No, but I can tell you, Dr. Zayne."

You see his eyes widen in surprise and he glances at you, but before he can reply the traffic lurches forward. Zayne returns his eyes on the road, and reaches out to grab your hand in his. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles and your stomach does small flips as you see him smile.

"I'd love that."

Rafayel

"Not one to talk? That's okay cutie, I can manage for the both of us."

And that he does. At first you aren't sure if the eccentric artist even wants or needs you to talk; Rafayel can talk circles around just about anyone, rightfully smug about his captivating voice and demeanor. You find yourself being envious of his natural charm, sure that you could hardly measure up to him in this regard.

But the more you spend time with him, the more you observe his mannerisms when he talks to you (yes, to you, not just at you): the glances over his shoulder, his body turning towards you as his hands punctuate his speech. The way he cocks his head to the side and studies your face with that easy smile on his lips, reading your expressions and hums as he does. Resting his fingertips on the pulse point of your wrist and gently tucking your hair behind your ear as you fight a petulant blush under his curious eyes.

Bodyguard, bah. You aren't sure Rafayel really knows, or cares, what that job actually entails. Then again, it's not like you had to stay, yet you did. There is something mesmerizing about Rafayel, his eyes as deep as the oceans and brilliant as the galaxies, and in between scoffing at his antics or bickering with him through texts, you find yourself being pulled in further and further as if lured by a siren song.

"Do you want to learn how to paint, sunshine?"

This time he doesn't give even the slightest pretense for the date. You have long ceased to care, feeling warm but bold standing in his studio as he guides the brush in your hand across the canvas. It's raining outside, the pitter patter mixing in with the gentle swishing of your brush and his bare feet padding against the tile floor. Time seems to fly by as you recreate the azure sea in front of you.

As the rain starts to ease down and the clouds part just enough for you to see the waves again, you step in front of the floor-length window and gaze out. As you watch swaying seas, your eyes suddenly widen.

"Rafayel, come look! Dolphins!"

You don't have time to be surprised by your own reaction as he strides next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile.

"Now isn't that a nice surprise," he says, "I wouldn't mind this happening again."

You nod, the words failing you once more, but he is so close he must feel your answer in your heartbeat.

Sylus

If Sylus could take it back, he would. He would destroy planets and steal stars to redo your first meeting. He wouldn't assume anything, wouldn't take out his frustrations on you, wouldn't push and push until the truth screams in his face.

Because your eyes remain vacant of any recognition, any warmth he grew to know so long ago, and he only made it worse: he forced your voice out of your mind when your mouth refused to cooperate. He took it as defiance, a personal challenge, when it was anything but. It took an outsider to tell him to stop hounding you, and he hasn't been able to forget since.

Through what can only be described as trials you finally make it to the auction and beyond, and with Sylus's help you get your hands on the Aether Core. He does not know what you see in the vision the Deepspace Tunnel shows you, but whatever it is, it creates an opening. It lets you resonate with him, lower your guard and accept his help. And Sylus holds onto that chance like a drowning man.

From then on out, every day is dedicated to making up to you. Even if his words are rough, there is now softness lacing his features whenever he looks at you. Tenderness, the origin of which you do not recognize, and yearning that makes it hard to stay mad at him.

He may not beg for forgiveness out loud, but it is there in every question, every request, every wish.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight, sweetie?"

I'm sorry I treated you like that. I didn't realize. I should have.

"Mephisto brought you two necklaces. Show him which one you prefer."

I'm sorry I expected more than you could possibly offer. It isn't your fault you don't remember.

"Text me when you get home. The roads are slippery today."

I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.

If you only knew how I adored you, little dove.

Your phone plays a familiar tune and you pick it up to see a video call coming from Sylus. It has become a habit of his whenever you are back in Linkon. He tells you he doesn't mind to be the one talking: he just wants to see your face.

"Hello sweetie, thank you for picking up. I called to say I'm sorry for missing our movie night. Some fool tried to blow up the armory in the north and I had to oversee the clean up."

You roll your eyes and sigh in mock exasperation. Sylus smiles back at you.

"I promise to make it up to you. Just tell me what you'd like."

"Anything we do together is fine, Sylus," you tell him and watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows raise and mouth freezes mid-sentence. "And stop... stop apologizing so much. Okay?"

It's not often the leader of Onychinus is rendered speechless, and you can't help a small giggle escaping your lips. It is your time to adore him, just for a moment.

[literaila]

new pups

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru brings home a couple of additions

warnings: satoru is annoying, reader is fed up with him, tsumiki is doing something (???), megumi is tired he needs a nap

last part | next part

*

year three

“ladies,” satoru calls, slamming the door instead of shutting it, even though you've scolded him about it for five weeks straight. “i’ve returned.” 

there’s the distinct sound of someone kicking the wall—probably just satoru throwing a bag by the door. 

you set down the pen you're holding, sighing at the sound. 

you used to live in a peaceful house, always clean, always calm, no boys to disrupt your wonderful lifestyle. 

and now you live with three kids. you probably haven't had a single moment alone since you moved in. 

and yet tsumiki looks up from the table, her eyes wide and waiting, and you watch fondly--glad that they're home. 

megumi rounds the corner, rubbing his eyes. his hair is a mess--complete with leaves and mud--and his face looks like it was stretched out by a car tire. but tsumiki smiles at him, not bothered by his appearance. “i’m here too," he says, walking up to the table where you're helping tsumiki with her homework, looking distastefully at the worksheets the two of you have lost track of. 

you smile at him. 

“hey, kid,” you say, pulling him to kiss his forehead. he tastes like sweat. “how was your class?” 

he shrugs, as telling as ever, then goes to the kitchen. 

satoru is next, as untouched as he was before he left, not a hair out of place, leaving a loud smacking kiss on tsumiki’s head—who loves it—and one on your cheek— which is promptly wiped away. 

“did you miss us?” he asks you, leaning against your shoulder with his entire body before you push him away. his blindfold is slipping from his face, and you snap it against his skin.

so he huffs and sits at the chair next to you, blindfold off, moving it even closer. seriously, he has never learned the meaning of personal space. 

“we didn’t have time,” you tell him, kicking his leg as he sits down. “we’ve been working.” 

he gives tsumiki a look. “blink twice if you need help.” 

she opens her eyes wide, making him laugh. her tiny fingers tap against the table, and you can tell that she's about to beg you for another break--just to go check on her room, she'll swear, or grab a glass of water. 

you've only been sitting there with her for an hour, but even you're feeling a bit restless at the math and reading comprehension worksheets you'd like to never see again. 

“shoo, satoru," you tell him before he can say anything else, 

"we’re almost done.” 

“but i just got here!” 

"you're going to disturb tsumiki. she's working hard." 

"i can watch," he grins at the little girl, "can't i, miki?" 

tsumiki looks between the two of you, nodding her head. "he's okay," she whispers to you, sweetly, and you pretend not to notice as the two of them share a wink and a smile, plotting against you, probably. 

"sit and be quiet," you point at him, turning away. 

"actually... could we take a break?" you frown at her, raising your brows. "there's not much left, and i promise i'll finish it all soon!" she pleads, taking satoru's signature sweet talking, "i just want to check on something real quick." 

you sigh, looking at what she's got left over, and, for how long you've been working, it's not that much (plus you could probably use a break too). "okay, but--" tsumiki is up from the table before the words are out of your mouth, her smile radiant, and she runs away before you can get another word out.

you snort as she leaves, then look to your best friend, frowning at him. "that's your fault." 

"i sat down," satoru deadpans. 

"i know you're teaching them to slack off when i'm not around," you tell him, moving your chair at least three feet away. just to get away from his crushing aura. 

satoru does not take this hint--nor any other one--and he moves with you like it'll physically kill him to be any further apart. 

"does avoiding homework and playing candy crush count as slacking off?" he asks you.

"yes." 

he nods thoughtfully. "oh, then yeah." 

you groan, stacking all of the papers on the table. your shoulders bump into his as you do so, his hands on your thighs, creeping as they try to scare you away. 

then they're gone, and he grins mischievously. 

"don't worry, megumi wanted to show you something anyway," he whispers, and then looks down the hallway, where the boy disappeared a couple of minutes ago. "megumi!" he sings. 

about thirty seconds later a scrunched-up body marches into the room, wearing pajamas already, dark circles that shouldn't exist for a nine-year-old under his eyes. 

seriously, what did satoru do? 

you nod at the boy and he looks quizzically at satoru, entirely bored and exhausted. 

"well?" satoru asks after they've been staring at each other for ten seconds straight. "aren't you going to show her?" 

megumi blinks, and usually, he'd probably argue at any request satoru made, but he looks too tired. he merely gives a half-hearted eye-roll, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

and then he turns towards you, looking briefly at the light above the table, rests one of his hands upon an open one, making an indiscernible shape. 

and almost before you can see them--you feel it, that unmistakable current of cursed energy, but satoru doesn't flinch, so neither do you. 

then there are two puppies at megumi's feet, barking excitedly beneath him. 

the two of them may be trying to give you a heart attack.

you stare for a moment--watching as megumi pats both of their heads, then looks at you, like he didn't just bring home two new pets without even asking you.

or like he's not just nine, creating creatures out of thin air.

you blink. the white one sniffs around megumi's feet, moving over to satoru to inspect him while the other black one sits by megumi, happy to remain there. 

"see!" satoru exclaims after he's had enough of the silence. he looks ridiculous bending down to pet the dog sniffing at his feet, who tries to nip at him in response.  

"you--" you frown, tilting your head, watching closely as they might disappear. "you made those?" 

"they're shikigami," satoru tells you, "aren't they cute?" 

"you just learned how to do that?" 

megumi nods. 

you gape for a moment more--so many curious thoughts running through your head, attempting to scare you away from your little boy and whoever he's supposed to be--but you shut them out. then smile. "wow, megumi. that--wow." 

his nose ruffles at you. 

"and you can summon them at will?" 

megumi frowns, but satoru nods. 

"and release them?" 

"he figured it out pretty quick," satoru says. "honestly, i was impressed." 

you stand up, ruffling his hair. "good job, buddy," you say, with obvious pride. 

how many parents can say that their child created two puppies and brought them home to them?

"they can't really do much." 

"i told you that they'll grow with you," satoru says, rolling his eyes. "maybe they have laser eyes."

megumi frowns at him.

"hmm," you watch them, the white one sniffing at you now. "they are cute. who could fight these little guys?" you say, cooing at the puppy, who basks in your attention. "they might shock curses into submission if nothing else." 

satoru laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you rise up again.

you give megumi a frown, watching his slow blinks. "you tired?" 

he nods, not even bothering to deny it like he usually would.

"okay, go hang out. we'll get dinner ready." 

megumi walks off, the two puppies following after him. 

you brows furrow as you watch him go. "did you have to torture him to get him to summon them?" 

satoru rolls his eyes. "i just talked to him until he figured it out." 

"so, yes." 

"actually, he didn't say much. just kind of sat by himself and thought for a bit." 

"and you watched?" 

satoru grins at you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. 

"he looks like he's half dead." 

he shrugs. "took a lot out of him. puppies are hard work." 

he's recalling what you told him when he tried to get you all to go to the animal shelter a couple of weeks ago, you look at him pointedly. then away. 

satoru grins at you, pulling his head back, then pauses. "what? you're not a dog person?" 

"how much do you know about his technique?" 

"not a lot," he answers, simply, "i know that he'll probably rival me for strength. when he's older." 

"how are you going to teach him?" 

satoru shrugs. he doesn't need to worry about any of this, you think. he doesn't need to fear a single thing. 

and, really, he's always been a little too good for you. a little too strong for your soft demeanor, and easy heart. 

you bite your lip, considering it. how fast will megumi grow now that he's figured out the basics of his shikigami? how much longer can you keep him here, tied down?

it only makes you wonder what satoru was like as a kid, who he might've been if he hadn't always been him. 

"he's only nine," you whisper, soft, unbroken. it's not a confession or a worry. just the truth.

"you were nine." 

"i was ten," you correct, appreciating satoru's strong arms against your body, his effortless hold on you. 

he laughs, tilting his head at you. "i was born." 

you roll your eyes, pushing him off. enough of his presence. "yeah, yeah, honored one, whatever." 

he pulls you back, though, easy as ever. "it's normal," he reminds you. "he's got us. he'll be fine." 

you sigh, hanging your head against his chest. "we don't know anything about his cursed technique." 

satoru hums. 

"we have to figure it out," you tell him like you haven't thought about it every day for the past year alone. like you'll be able to figure out anything. 

"okay." 

"do you think there are books on it at the library?" you ask him, thinking about yaga's lessons--which, in hindsight, you should've paid more attention to. 

satoru frowns. "i'm not reading those." 

"well, no one's going to tell you about it." 

"you could. after you read the books," he grins, very pleased with this answer. 

"you're helping because there's probably, like, twenty different ones all contradicting each other." 

just the idea of the library is a tough one. who knows what information has been muddled over the years, or what you'll need to know for megumi, anyway? 

no matter what, it's gonna take longer than a day to figure it out. probably a decade, at least. 

"can't megumi just read them for himself?" satoru whines, shaking his head against yours at the same thought. 

"satoru," you pinch his forearm.

he groans. "fine. fine. i'll talk to yaga next time i'm at the school."  

"good boy." 

"don't patronize me," he pouts. 

"where did you learn that word?" 

"i can read, you know." 

"really? thought i was gonna have to teach you that too," you smile at him, pinching his rosy cheeks. he looks very pretty like this--always unchanging, unbothered. 

"i was the best in my class, i'll have you know," he tells you like you weren't there to experience that same class. 

"you mean laziest," you shake your head, stepping away, finally. "god knows why you turned out to be so strong." 

he grins again, leaning towards you. close enough to breathe in. "it's part of my natural charm." 

"great," your brows raise at him, "you and your charm can help me make dinner." 

"do we have to?" he whines. 

but satoru is very similar to your new puppies, in that as soon as you walk away, he follows, sniffing eagerly after you. 

*

"so," satoru says, sitting too close to you on the couch. he yawns, body sprawled against the cushions. 

you try to push his head away from your shoulder, but the effort is futile. he might as well glue it there. you wonder when he got the time to fill his brain with cement. 

you sigh, and dog-ear your book, knowing that he's not going to shut up for at least ten minutes. "what?" 

"i talked to yaga today." 

"about the books?" 

"among other things." 

you flick his forehead. "did you get us in trouble again?" you ask, frowning. "i told you to stop spilling my secrets to anyone who asks--" 

"it was an accident." 

you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him. but your hand subconsciously wraps around his shoulders, squeezing where it can, and begins to trail through his hair. 

after three years, you still haven't managed to get him to tell you anything about his conditioner. another reason why you hate him so much. 

"what'd he say?" you ask, after satoru's eyes close at the feeling of your hands. 

"he had an interesting idea." 

"was it your idea?" 

"no, not this time." 

"okay..." 

"well, you know how they're always running low on teachers at the school, especially now that yaga's principal?" 

"uh-huh." 

"and you know how we could use the help with training megumi, and that we're the best out there--" 

"no, satoru." 

"i didn't even say--" 

"i'm not teaching." 

"but you'd be so great at it," he smiles up at you, fluttering his eyelashes in an attempt to break you. 

so you look away because you refuse to fall victim to his whims again. 

"the missions are enough, i don't want to be responsible for anyone else but you and the kids." 

"you know you do." 

"i'm not doing it," you tell him, snatching your arm back to cross them across your chest. 

"it's not even that big of a change," he argues, "just, like, a very extensive year-long training program for incoming teachers--" 

*

next part | series masterlist

[luvsuperboard]

shy boy? secret kisses?

you’re used to see him being confident when it comes to “romantic” encounters, but all of sudden when you find out about his cute habit, he becomes shy! (fluff warning!)

—

was your roof leaking? what were those little taps you felt going from your temple to your cheek?

“minnie what are you-“ he froze. his big brown puppy-like eyes widened when he heard you, soon stopping what he was doing while your eyes were closed. he quickly turned around, as if you didn’t clearly see he was awake.

“kim seungmin, i know you’re awake,” you said half-yawning and sitting up. one of your hands traveled to his back slowly caressing it as he was still facing the other way, refusing to see you as if he had been doing some witchcraft on you while you were sleeping and he was embarrassed now that you caught him—but of course it wasn’t anything like that.

he groaned, hiding under the blanket currently covering both of you, giving you a dry ‘what’, acting like he had been sleeping too.

you got closer, slowly pulling the blanket off him, his eyes were shut, cheeks red. “wanna explain what were you doing?” you said with a smirk, gently brushing some of the hair that was sticking to his forehead away. he just scoffed.

“pft, i was just.. i’m- you know what, you never saw that, nothing happened. go back to sleep, baby. yay! so happy, now go to sleep” he said muttering the last word and patting your head, but instead of going back to sleep you took his chin in between your thumb and index finger, looking at him directly.

you gasped. “was.. kim seungmin.. kissing y/n’s face???? on their sleep??” he was red red, like a fucking tomato, you bursted out of laughter. “oh my! kim seungmin? no this is not him, who are you? give me my cute boyfriend, who doesn’t want to admit he’s whipped for me, back!”

“you are so annoying”

you cradled his face with both of your hands “yes, very annoying. but you still love me. and love me that much you take the time to kiss my face while i’m sleeping! aw look at you, i didn’t know you were such a softie..” you traced random patterns on his skin as he rolled his eyes and just blushed as much as he could.

“CAN YOU STOP? Y/N IM DONE”

“SEUNGMIN LOVES ME! SEUNGMIN LOVES MEE~!” you cheered while singing.

“i guess…”

“so?”

“so what?”

“AREN’T YOU GONNA ADMIT YOU KISS ME EVERY NIGHT WHEN I CANT SEE YOU AND THAT’S WHY YOU LIKE ME TO FALL ASLEEP FIRST?” his jaw dropped, his hands traveled to his face and covered it in embarrassment

“SO YOU’VE BEEN KNOWING?”

“well um, i suspected it-“

“OH GOD”

“LISTEN! i suspected it. but i finally decided to stay awake and you definitely confirmed my assumptions” you said smiling. your boyfriend in the other hand was dying in the inside. how he could’ve been so dumb?

“this is so humiliating!” he whined before ruffling his hair. you rested your chin on his shoulder while he was still holding his face in between his hands and sighed, waiting for his obvious confession.

“i just- i do it because i don’t know. you look so… peaceful, when you sleep and i can’t help it but to start to kiss every single part of your face and it makes me wanna take care of you even more and keep you forev- y/n i swear if you’re laughing right now…”

“IM NOT!” you pressed your lips together, as an attempt of not letting out the loud ass laugh that was coming but it was too late. he lifted his head.

“YOU SEE? LOOK AT YOU LAUGHING! OH MY GOD”

“IM SORRY OKAY? YOU’RE JUST SO CUTE! BOY IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE ABOUT TO EXPLODE!” the room quickly filled with your giggles and a bunch of ‘sorrys’ towards seungmin.

he shook his head, giving up “yea, well that’s how crazy you drive me, y/n” he whispered, looking at you with so much adoration. awww. no. because now you were the one about to scream and go crazy over the man in front of you.

“yes, yes, okay baby now can we go back to ‘sleep’? wait no i actually wanna sleep now” he laughed and nodded, leaving a quick kiss on your cheek. once you rested your head on his chest his fingers softly ran through your hair before mumbling a low ‘love you’.

“kim seungmin is a softie~”

“SHUT UP.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

No thoughts. Just the idea of affectionately annoying Nathan. Like just sauntering into his office while he's doing work and jut kinda being in his bubble a bit. Like just standing behind his chair and gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and watching him code until he asks what you want and you just go "Nothing, I just like bugging you <3"

He acts like he hates it but he likes it. He likes it and he does back. You affectionately annoy each other and light heartedly push each other's buttons.

I love this!

Make Me Worse

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You and Nathan love to annoy each other.

Warnings: Kisses, fluff, pet names, playfully annoying each other, calling each other names, overuse of italics, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1007

“You’ve been staring at the wall for the last seven minutes.” Nathan huffs.

“You been timing me?” The smile in your voice is undeniable.

“Why are you in here?” 

“I like this painting.” 

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do.” You keep your back to him. 

“You don’t. You said it looked like vomit.” 

“It does.” You nod lightly, pretending to admire it some more. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.” 

Nathan sighs dramatically and the rhythmic sound of his typing stops. He turns around in his chair, away from his desk and you grin. Pleased that you have won your imaginary game of ‘can I make Nathan turn around before I do.’

“Why are you in here?” His voice is grumpy, a slightly pout colouring in his words. With a huff, he crosses his arms, annoyed that he lost his pretend game of ‘can I make them turn around before I do.’ 

You look over your shoulder at him and smile sweetly. “Am I not allowed to be in here?” 

“No.” He grumbles, and then rolls his eyes instantly after as he recognises he’s said the wrong thing.

You practically beam. “Oh, and why is that?” You tease and step closer to him, putting your hands on his armrests. 

He tuts again. 

“Could it be that I’m annoying you?” The glee in your voice is undeniable. 

“No.” He glares, trying to give you a stern look from over the top of his glasses. 

You wait a beat, and just about manage to resist the urge to tap the tip of his nose. “Good.” 

“Good.” He repeats, still staring you down. 

“Then you won’t mind me saying in here then.” 

He clenches his jaw and breathes in deeply. “Of course not.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You give him another brilliantly insincere smile and step to the side to investigate his desk. 

He turns his chair, and at first, you think he’s going to go back to at least pretending to work, but instead, he just watches you.

You wait for a moment, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet and trying your best to hide how you’re watching him out of the corner of your eyes. Ever so slowly you reach out and just tease the edge of his pen pot with the tip of your finger. 

“Don’t.” He growls. 

And you burst out laughing.

Nathan bites back a smile. “Stop.” 

“I can’t believe that is what got you.” 

“I thought you were going to knock it onto the floor.” He loses the internal battle with himself and grins. 

“Why would I do that?” You giggle.

“I don’t know, why do you do anything?” He pauses. “Like a cat?” 

“Like a cat?” 

He nods. “My little kitty cat.” And hold out his arms to you. 

You snort. “Do not call me that.” You sit on his lap and let him hug you tightly and settle you against him how he likes. 

“Kitty cat.” He whispers. 

“I’ll bite you.” 

“I’ll muzzle you.” He kisses your forehead.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you sick fuck?” 

His chest shakes as he laughs. “I would. I’d like it if you bit me too.” 

You tut and pretend to be outraged for a moment. “Maybe later.” 

“Ooooo, later. Why not know?” 

“Aren’t you meant to be working?” You take hold of his hand, linking your fingers with his.

“You didn’t care about that a second ago.” 

“Longer than a second ago, dumbass.”

“It’s a figure of speech, smartass.”

You sit up a little straighter and Nathan’s hold on you tightens when he thinks you’re going to go away. “I’m the smartass now? Excellent, let me get on this coding then.” You push the chair around to face the desk and dramatically go to hit the keyboard with both hands, still holding Nathan’s in one.

“Stop,” he laughs, wrapping his arm around your biceps and squeezing your hand. He pushes the chair back and away from his computer with his legs. 

“No, no, I need to show everyone how much of a massive brain I have and do this boring coding.” You pretended to try to get back to the keyboard and Nathan giggles. The sound fills your chest instantly, making you light and content. 

“Stop.” He kisses the back of your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your head and put on your best Nathan impression. “I’ve got this important coding to do, nothing can stop me, not even your kisses.” 

“That’s a lie.” He pulls you closer, pressing your back against his chest and trying to tickle your side. “I always stop for your kisses.” 

You yelp and laugh as he tickles you, manically grabbing at his hand to stop him. “You don’t!”

“Name one time, one time I haven’t?” 

“Right now!”

“You haven’t tried to kiss me right now.”

You manage to capture his wrist, halting his actions and turn your head again to look him in the eyes. “I haven’t?” You nudge his nose with yours. 

“No.” He smiles, his eyes bright and shining.k

“Ah, I knew I’d forgotten a trick or two.” 

Nathan kisses you quickly, a small peck. Once, then twice. His lips are warm, his cheeks lightly flushed from his playful struggles with you. He moans when you kiss him again, slower this time. 

You risk letting go of his hand to stroke his cheek and beard, he moves his fingers to your side but doesn’t tickle. Instead, he helps you to turn on his lap and sighs happily as you lick into his mouth. 

As you pull back he rests his forehead against yours and breathes in a shaky breath. “Come and sit with me please?” 

“I am sitting with you.” 

“Smartass.” He repeats, smiling. 

“I learnt it from you.” You kiss him again, and wrap your arms around him.

“I think I learned it from you, you’re the master, I’m just a lowly student.”

You snort. “You were like this before we met.” 

“Yeah,” he nods, grinning, “But you’ve made me worse.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[gay-dorito-dust]

‘You’re doing it again.’ Jason murmured.

‘Doing what, Jaybirdie?’ You blinked at him as his warm hands creeped on either side of your face, his thumbs then stated soothing your aching temples, causing you to groan at the sweet gesture and found yourself leaning into his touch; Glad to finally have some mental relief.

‘Overthinking, gorgeous.’ He replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he silently encouraged you to lean further against him, whilst watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

‘I’m not. I’m not overthinking.’ You tried to deflect but it only came out sleepy and sluggish as you stubbornly tried to pull yourself away from his firm hold.

Jason tightens his grip, though making sure not to hurt you in the process. ‘Then what’s this,mr/mrs/mx deeply furrowed brows?’ He asks as he softly tapped a finger to your brow. ‘I thought we’d talked about you overthinking yourself to death.‘ he adds on and you huff, knowing that it wasn’t wise to keep anything from Jason without him quickly catching on. He was smart like that and knew you well enough when something was wrong; something you love about him but also hated because you didn’t want to fell like a burden for overthinking about the same things over, and over again but you couldn’t help it.

When you didn’t say anything Jason sighed and adjusted you in his lap, resting his head against yours as this thumbs continued to work soothing patterns into your temples. ‘It’s not something to be ashamed of sweetheart, I know you can’t exactly help what you overthink and I don’t want you to think that I’ll get annoyed over it because that’s the last thing you need right now.’

You groan, making yourself more comfortable against him, allowing his bodily warmth to seep into you and drape over you as though you were being coddled in a weighted blanket with well defined muscles and a heartbeat. ‘Don’t you get tired of doing this every time?’ You asked meekly, not wanting to look into his eyes, fearing the worst that could possibly happen.

‘Nope.’ Jason replied without hesitation.

‘Why?’ You asked incredulously. ‘It’s rotten work.’ You add and you felt Jason tighten his grasp on you as he sharply inhaled.

‘Not to me, not to me you’re not. You’re anything but rotten work and I can name a thousand things that’s rotten work but taking care of you is never one of them.’ He says truthfully and you couldn’t help but whimper at this, not having been with anyone that was willing to put up with your tendencies to overthink and self-sabotage as much as Jason. You were about to say something but Jason cuts you off before you could, ‘and don’t go saying that you don’t deserve me when you’ve don’t nothing but proven yourself more then deserving of me in every which way. Don’t sell yourself short sweetheart. It breaks my heart to know that someone as amazing as you don’t see yourself the way I see you.’

‘And what’s that?’ You looked at him only to see him smiling at you as he peppered kisses to your face, making you giggle and smile at the butterflies he was giving you in your stomach. ‘Fucking brilliant, amazing, talented, and an overall fantastic human being who doesn’t deserve to spend a single minute of their life second guessing themselves.’ Jason lists off the top of his head before looking back at you as though to say well? Your move.

‘You win.’ You pouted and Jason laughed, kissing the pout from your lips as he rests his head against your own.

‘Good. Now let’s get some rest yeah? I know you must’ve be exhausted.’ You hummed in agreement, already finding yourself slipping into sleep from his thumbs that were still soothing your temples with their gentle caresses.