#I barely speak English let alone any other language

[choerypetal]

Silent Vengeance / Lee Myung-gi

summarize: Who would have thought that a man who sees himself as powerful could be reduced to selfishness by obsession, only for a knight in armor to heal a broken heart?

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical errors, but I really hope you enjoy it! based on s2 squid game so spoilers ahead!

Thanos’s pride and the attention he commanded among the crowd stirred bitterness in some of the contestants—yours included. It baffled many that a retired rapper would stoop to participate in such brutal games, especially one that involved splashes of blood staining his clothes.

It wasn’t until after the Green Light, Red Light game that his focus shifted. He noticed a particular figure—a silhouette that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. The way you sprinted with precision, timing each step perfectly to freeze at the exact moment, or how you yanked another contestant’s hair to throw them off balance, was a calculated display of survival. That endurance, paired with your quiet defiance of the chaos around you—including his own—captivated Thanos from the very beginning.

While Thanos reveled in his lingering popularity, relishing how some followed his every move like sheep to a shepherd, he couldn’t ignore one undeniable truth: for once, he wasn’t the center of attention. That honor belonged to you.

And never in a thousand of years would he see you here. In flesh. Not after the break up.

Like many others, you had joined the Games with hopes of a better life—a seductive promise whispered by the Salesman. His grotesque smile lingered in your mind whenever you stole a moment to rest, though such moments were rare. Still, your demeanor betrayed none of the turmoil beneath. Your stony expression, coupled with your tendency to linger at the edges, observing the chaos with silent disdain, set you apart. To you, the Games were a grim spectacle—a macabre theater of desperation and misplaced hopes.

Despite this, a few contestants managed to draw you into sparse, fleeting conversations. Thanos, however, stood apart—not because you sought him out, but because he was the last person you’d have ever chosen to engage with. And yet, it fascinated him. Knowing your shared history, he found it almost poetic to see you here, standing as a quiet, untouchable force while his own magnetism faltered in your shadow.

“This prick is getting on my nerves,” someone muttered, their voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of the room. The words belonged to 333. His number stood out just as much as his presence as he slid into the seat beside you. You’d learned his name was Lee Myung-gi. He extended a hand toward you, his lips curling into a soft grin that hinted at practiced charm. You nodded slightly, mirroring the gesture out of courtesy. “Y/N,” you said plainly.

There was a pause before Myung-gi’s gaze flicked toward Thanos, his tone lowering conspiratorially. “I don’t mean to stir the pot or anything, but... word is, you and Thanos were a thing. He says you’re pretending not to remember him. And that’s why you—”

“333!”

Thanos’s voice cut through like a blade, silencing Myung-gi mid-sentence. Both of you turned your heads in unison, meeting Thanos’s unyielding stare. You recognized that look immediately—brows furrowed, his glare burning with thinly veiled fury. It was a warning, one that promised Myung-gi wouldn’t survive another word in your direction. The intensity of it could rival any of the Games themselves.

“You should go,” you said quietly, your tone flat but decisive. Your eyes barely glanced at Myung-gi, let alone at Thanos. Yet the weight of his gaze pressed heavily on you, and something inside you churned—a mix of unease, defiance, and something far harder to name.

You wanted to let loose a string of curses, every sharp word you could think of—but you stopped yourself. The memory of a promise lingered in the back of your mind.

Never speak to one another after the breakup.

It was a fragile vow, one you both had clung to out of pride or necessity. But deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before it shattered completely.

It wasn’t until the bathroom game that the tension reached its breaking point. Thanos never imagined he’d find himself mere feet away from you again, let alone in the confines of a separate room. Yet here he was, his determination undeterred, even as 333 hovered too close for his liking. Thanos wasn’t subtle about his intentions—he wouldn’t let anyone, least of all Myung-gi, encroach on what he still felt was his.

The image of you and 333 pressing X together during the last game still burned in Thanos’s mind, a fresh wound that refused to heal. It festered, replaying over and over like a mocking refrain, igniting a possessive anger he could no longer contain.

As he stepped into the bathroom hall, his focus zeroed in on Myung-gi, the irritation bubbling into something darker. “You’re getting all worked up. So there is something going on,” Thanos said, his voice low and edged with menace.

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “If you press X again tomorrow...” Thanos leaned in, his words a venomous whisper, “I’ll cut off your finger and give it to her.”

Myung-gi’s jaw tightened at the threat, his discomfort evident. But what unsettled him more was the reason you’d pressed X with him in the first place. It wasn’t a calculated strategy or an empty gesture—it was a fleeting grasp at safety, something you rarely allowed yourself. While you were usually stoic, Myung-gi’s quiet acts of care had chipped away at your defenses, enough to make you question your own resolve.

Thanos couldn’t stand it. The rules of the Games were unambiguous, but what he thought he saw—the almost imperceptible closeness between you and Myung-gi, the way your lips hovered as if to kiss—was enough to set his blood ablaze. The possibility, imagined or not, was more than he could bear.

And that was the last straw. 

“And ask her out. She’ll love it.” 

“You asshole!” Thanos barely registered the punch before his jaw throbbed, the sharp sting waking something primal in him. His thumb brushed over his chin, checking for blood, before he retaliated with equal ferocity. “You motherfucker!” he snarled, his fist connecting with satisfying force.

Chaos erupted as their hands found each other’s throats, both grappling for dominance. Myung-gi’s back slammed against the bathroom stall, the sound echoing in the tight space. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, fists flying without restraint. “Your money, your girl, your life—they’re all mine!” Thanos spat, driving his fist into Myung-gi’s cheek with enough force to make his knuckles ache.

But then, everything shifted. Thanos froze, his breath hitching as blood sprayed from his own mouth, splattering across Myung-gi’s face. The sudden realization of injury shocked him into silence. Without a word, he pulled back, retreating to the shadows of the stall, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

And yet, in that moment of pain and rage, his mind wasn’t on the fight—it was on you. Always you.

The bathroom games were over. The stalls were scrubbed clean of the chaos that had unfolded, leaving little trace of what had transpired. As you and Myung-gi stepped out, your eyes met briefly. The way he looked at you—earnest, searching—was impossible to ignore. The remaining contestants loitered nearby, their presence a quiet reminder of the fragile truce this space demanded. But Thanos was nowhere to be found. Somehow, the thought of his absence made your shoulders feel just a little lighter.

Despite the unspoken rule of no interactions before returning to the dorms, Myung-gi broke it without hesitation. He rushed toward you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. For a moment, you froze, unsure. But your hands instinctively found his face, fingers brushing over the bruise already darkening on his cheek.

You couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts about Thanos—how he’d reacted to other men during your relationship, the jealousy that often burned too brightly. The memories made your stomach twist with dread. But as your thumb grazed Myung-gi’s cheek, his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the comfort of your touch.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension lingering in the air.

He let out a quiet scoff, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile. “The prick’s finally getting what he deserves anyway.”

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

-------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[yuujispunches]

Intimacy with Suguru Geto HC

Pairing: Suguru Geto x fem!reader

Summary: headcannons about what it would be like to be intimate with Suguru.

CW (content warning): talk about sex, mentions of oral sex (both f and m receiving), mentions of masturbation, praise kink, smut under the cut MDNI (+18), this is pretty much smut without any plot.

AN (author’s note): Hi! So this is my second time posting this because I accidentally deleted my original post because it wasn’t showing up on the tags and I was trying to fix it 💀 This one was requested, I’m currently working on another request as well as a Yuji one-shot. This was my first writing smut so please bare with me. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character sI write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Intense and controlled.

Geto doesn’t rush, he absolutely loves taking his time with you. He’s methodical and deliberate, every touch is calculated to get the reaction he wants from you, taking his time to read your reactions watch the way you react to his touches, the way he can see goosebumps forming on your skin as he kissed down your body, hearing the sound you make. He likes control, not in a cruel way, but because he enjoys understanding you deeply and guiding the experience. He would never soy no to a quickie, but he definitely prefers taking his time.

Eye contact

As we said, Geto definitely loves watching you. He makes sure to lock eyes with you often, not just out of passion but because he wants to see everything: your pleasure, your hesitation, your trust. He loves just watching you, whether it was him making you get yourself off or even when you’re just in plain missionary. He definitely makes you look at him whenever you cum. It’s part of how he connects emotionally. And if you look up at him while you’re on your knees for him? Yeah he’s definitely a goner.

Soundproof.

It’s not like Geto is quiet but he’s not loud either. He lets out breathy moans in your ear, pants and heavy breathing heard in the room. He knows is presence alone is commanding, he doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel the weight of his desire or his authority. You’ll always feel watched, wanted, and chosen. One thing he does love is calling you pet names, specially Angel.

Praise.

Geto definitely has a praise kink, whether it’s hik praising you or the other way around. Even when he’s rough he’s moaning in your ear telling you how good you feel, how amazing you look or how good you’re taking him in. As your body tenses, legs trembling, breath catching, his voice stays with you low, steady, coaxing. “Just like that... you’re doing so well for me.” He’s proud of being the one that brought you so much pleasure, he almost holds it like it’s something sacred. And afterward, he kisses your knuckles, your cheeks, your thighs, grounding you as if to say: you are cherished, even here.

When you’re the one that praises him it never fails to make him loose it, even on the days where he’s rougher. All it takes is you telling him something among the lines of: “No one touches me like you do.” And he growls into your ear, low and dangerous: “Say that again.” He wants to hear it. Over and over. Wants you to tell him he’s better, that he’s all you want, that he’s the only one who can wreck you and hold you afterward. Because if he can be that to you, maybe he’s not completely lost.

Pace and exceptions.

As it was said before, Suguro loves taking his time with you, however there is one situation where he can’t control himself and that’s when he’s sent out on missions, being obligated to spend too much time away from you for his liking. He doesn’t speak. Just grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, dragging you back into his body like you might vanish if he loosens his grip. You try to ask how the mission went he cuts you off with his mouth and lifts you onto the nearest surface. His voice is rough when he finally speaks: “Later. I need you now.” He strips you fast, barely breaking eye contact, pupils blown wide. His hand closes around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw not tight, just enough to hold you in place. His other hand is already between your thighs, fingers slicking through your wetness as he mutters, “Look at you already ready for me. You missed this, didn’t you?”

Little reminders.

It’s not like he means to mark you, but when he sees the reminders of the night before on your skin he loves it. Geto's hands clutch your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, pace relentless. Your back arches, your hands claw at the sheets, and he holds you in place like he can’t risk letting you go. He’s panting now soft curses slipping from his mouth as your body tightens around him. You glance back, and the look in his eyes is wild not just aroused, but desperate. Like he’s trying to lose himself in you completely. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure that the day after you would have bruises of the shape of his fingertips.

And you were right. The next morning when you’re changing he catches a glimpse of the bruises on your hips and a few hickeys he didn’t even remember giving you here and there. He pulls you in by the waist, kisses them again, then whispers, “You wear me so well. Like you were made for this.”

Aftercare.

Geto always makes sure that you’re taken care of after the both of you are finished, although the way he does it depends on the kind of day he was having.

When he had a bad day once it’s over, he collapses beside you, breath ragged. He doesn’t say anything. But his arm slides around your waist and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. You feel the tension leave him, slowly, like your skin is the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. And even if he never says it, you feel it in the way his body curls into yours. After a while he gets up, getting a towel and cleaning you up throughly before getting back into bed with you, his arms holding you a bit tighter.

On the good days though? He absolutely loves to dote on you, even running baths for you. He loved getting in the bath behind you and holding you. The water is warm, fragrant with oils, and he slides into the tub with you, pulling you back into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder, and for long minutes he says nothing, just kisses your damp temple and lets the silence be tender. His fingers rub small, slow circles over your hips. “You were perfect,” he murmurs eventually, breath warm against your skin.

tags: @chigiridrider1

Taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added! :)

[ankababy]

A Home (part 4)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 5

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Let’s go out!

(TW: dead people, English is not my first language. Also, thank you SOOOOO much for all the support and nice words!! Can’t even describe what I feel💕)

Even in your half-asleep state, still blinking away the last remnants of sleep, you could feel the tension in the air the second you stepped into the living room.

Something about the way Chishiya was sitting, legs crossed on the couch, looking entirely unbothered—but his gaze was locked on something.

Or rather, someone.

Niragi.

Who was standing in the corner of the kitchen, body language practically radiating hostility.

Like a caged animal.

Like they had just been on the brink of tearing each other apart, but the second you entered the room, they both stopped.

Oh.

Had you interrupted something?

Probably.

It wasn’t uncommon.

You just sighed softly, adjusting the sleeves of the oversized sweater hanging off your frame, ignoring the way your side still ached.

“Good morning.”

Neither of them responded. You didn’t expect them to. It didn’t stop you from speaking, though. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Again—silence.

Not surprising.

Chishiya didn’t talk much, and Niragi?

Well.

“Don’t give a fuck.”

Ah. There it was. His voice was mean, a muttered growl from his sad little spot in the corner. He almost looked like he was sent in there for timeout by Chishiya himself. Pfft.

You just tilted your head slightly, taking him in.

He looked… frustrated. Which wasn’t exactly new. Niragi was always angry. Always had been. But today?

He looked ready to rip someone’s throat out.

And you had a feeling you knew who.

You sighed, ignoring it.

They could kill each other later.

You pulled out a pan, setting it on the stove, already used to the silence that followed your words. They never answered right away, and when they did, it was rarely anything pleasant. But that didn’t stop you from speaking.

“I’m going out today.” you said casually, cracking an egg against the rim of the pan. “Need to restock.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Niragi. Of course. His voice came fast, sharp, like it was obvious. Like there wasn’t even a question.

“So will I.”

You almost laughed. Chishiya barely even looked up when he said it, but the words alone were enough to make Niragi’s head snap toward him.

“Oh, fuck off.” Niragi’s voice was already on edge. “I said it first.”

“And?” Chishiya finally met his gaze, and you could already tell he was just saying this to piss him off. “Didn’t realize this was a game of calling dibs.”

“You just wanna come because I’m coming.”

Chishiya scoffed. “Yes, Niragi. That’s exactly it. I wake up every morning thinking about how I can spend more time with you.”

You just sighed, flipping the egg. They were impossible.

It was kind of funny.

For two grown men who had seen death, murder, absolute horror, they sure acted like children.

You sighed through your nose, turning back to the stove as the heat from the pan warmed your skin. This was normal. This was just how they were. Impossible, insufferable, and absolutely ridiculous.

“Alright, so I need more rice—god, if I find any, that’d be a miracle—” You plated the egg, reaching for another. “Vegetables, if any of those survived out there. Some kind of protein, meat, I don’t even care what it is anymore, we’re all desperate at this point.”

Niragi let out a sharp breath, clearly not listening, already too busy glaring at Chishiya across the room. Chishiya, for his part, was pretending he wasn’t being watched, deliberately ignoring him.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Niragi snapped suddenly, shifting against the counter.

“Nothing.” Chishiya said smoothly, still refusing to make eye contact. “Hard to look at something when there’s nothing worth seeing.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You kept talking, trying to drown them out.“Cooking oil, salt, sugar—though I doubt I’ll find that anywhere. Maybe if I break into a supermarket storage again—”

Niragi took a step forward. “You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

Chishiya just shrugged. “No. I think I’m right.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his shoulders, his body already tense. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll just start fucking shooting.”

“That would imply you have good aim.” Chishiya said flatly.

You sighed. Loudly.

“And water.” you continued, unbothered, not even looking at them. “Maybe more bandages, if we’re lucky. There was a stash in that old pharmacy last time I went, so I’ll check again—”

“Are you actually trying to get your ass killed?” Niragi scoffed, finally acknowledging you. “You talk like the streets aren’t fucking empty.”

You smiled sweetly, flipping the next egg onto a plate. “Well, I have you, don’t I?”

That shut him up.

For a second, at least.

And when you glanced at Chishiya, and he was watching.

You turned back to the counter, gathering the plates with care, placing a spoon and a fork on each one before heading toward them. They were still in their own little world of hostility, Niragi leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, while Chishiya sat slouched on the couch, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger as if completely unbothered.

You, of course, ignored all of it. Instead, you smiled as you approached Niragi first, because he was closest. You placed his plate down in front of him gently, sliding it toward him.

“Eat.” you said, tone soft, soothing, the kind of voice that could tame even the most feral creatures. “You need to keep your energy up.”

Niragi scoffed, but his hands twitched toward the plate anyway.

“And you know what?” you continued, smiling at him as if he wasn’t an absolute menace to society. “I think you’re actually getting better. You’re moving easier.”

He clicked his tongue, looking to the side, irritated. “Like I need you to tell me that.”

You ignored the bite in his voice, letting your fingers barely brush against his forearm as you pulled back.

“Don’t—” His voice came out low, teeth bared like a warning. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You knew better than to take it personally. You knew. But still, there was something sad about it, something you recognized even if he didn’t.

You just smiled, backing off with your hands raised in surrender. “Got it.”

You turned toward Chishiya next, already holding his plate out for him. He didn’t move at first, just stared at you, his eyes tracking every single one of your movements like he was studying you.

You placed the plate in his lap gently, and this time, when you spoke, it was softer. “I made sure to give you more.”

Chishiya raised a brow, glancing down at the plate before flicking his gaze back up to you. “Why?”

“Because you deserve it.” you said simply, with zero hesitation.

His fingers tapped against the ceramic, and for a second, his gaze almost faltered, something barely noticeable shifting behind his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.

You reached out before you could think about it, the tips of your fingers barely grazing against his sleeve. It wasn’t like when you touched Niragi—it was just gentle.

“You should eat too.” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know you played a hard game last night.”

Chishiya didn’t react right away, just tilted his head slightly, like a cat watching something interesting.

“You didn’t know that.” he finally said, amused.

You gave him a look. “I had a pretty good guess.”

He hummed, clearly entertained by your logic. But in the end, he picked up his fork.

And you knew that was his way of saying he’d listen.

You sighed softly, pulling back, taking a step away from both of them as if giving them space.

“You both should eat before it gets cold.” you murmured.

Chishiya, of course, had no reaction. But Niragi let out a short, frustrated breath, picking up his fork just to prove a point.

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi muttered, stabbing into his food. “Keep acting like our fucking mom.”

You turned back to the kitchen, moving toward the sink to start cleaning up the mess you had made. You didn’t see the way Niragi’s jaw clenched when he tasted the food because of how fucking good it was. Or how Chishiya kept his eyes on your every single movement.

~

The streets were empty. Silent.

Nature had started taking back what had once belonged to it—vines creeping up buildings, splitting through cracked concrete, swallowing whole storefronts that used to be bustling with people. It should have been beautiful, in a way. Maybe it was. But all you could think about was the stillness of it all.

You walked in the middle. Chishiya on one side, Niragi on the other—only because it put as much space between them as possible. They refused to walk any closer to each other.

“Maybe I can find some paint somewhere.” you talked, stepping over a patch of broken glass, careful not to cut yourself. “The walls in the apartment are so boring. I want to paint them pink.”

You felt Niragi glance at you, skeptical. “Pink?”

“Yes.” you nodded, smiling. “A soft pink. Something warm, you know? We could make the place actually feel like a home.”

Chishiya made a noise. Not quite a laugh, but close. “That’s cute.”

“You’re cute.” you shot back without thinking.

Niragi snorted. Chishiya just gave you a side glance, as if assessing if you were being sarcastic.

You weren’t.

You kept talking, ignoring their reactions.

“And maybe I’ll find some fairy lights, too.” you continued, stepping around a rusted-out car, the windshield long shattered. “Or something like that. Make it cozy. Oh! And pillows, lots of them, because the couch is so uncomfortable—”

You stopped.

Because Niragi had stopped.

He was standing in front of a body.

A long-dead one.

You didn’t look. You turned your head immediately, staring at the sky, at the vines, at literally anything else.

“Ugh, finally.” Niragi sighed, and there was something in his voice that made your stomach drop.

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Niragi—”

“Shut up.” he muttered, grinning. You didn’t have to see him to hear it.

When you turned back, you saw it.

The gun.

It was filthy, rust creeping along the edges, but Niragi was holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Like it was his fucking soulmate.

“Finally.” he muttered, fingers moving over the weapon, checking it with expert hands. “You have no idea how much I fucking missed this.”

Your stomach twisted. “You don’t need that.”

He laughed. Actually laughed as he pointed the barrel up at the sky and pulled the trigger.

Click.

No bullets.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Chishiya, standing beside you with his hands in his pockets, let out a slow breath. “You’re a child.”

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

You placed a hand on your chest, steadying yourself, breathing in deeply.

“Can we just—” you hesitated, shaking your head. “Can we just go?”

Niragi was too busy inspecting his new prize. “In a minute.”

You looked away again, suddenly so fucking tired.

Niragi wasn’t going to let go of the gun. That much was obvious. You had to live with it.

And so, with your hands gripping your sleeves, you kept walking. And they followed.

And you tried to ignore the gun. You really did.

But it was hard when Niragi was practically wagging his tail about it, glancing at every corpse, every ruined building, every broken-down car in search of bullets.

It was almost… comical.

Like a dog sniffing around for scraps.

You watched him for a while, walking ahead of you, muttering to himself as he kicked at debris. Then, finally, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know, Niragi…” you started sweetly, clasping your hands together.

He didn’t look at you. “What?”

“You’re kind of like a puppy right now.”

That got him. He stopped, turned, narrowed his eyes. “The fuck did you just say?”

Chishiya huffed.

“A puppy.” you repeated innocently, clasping your hands behind your back, tilting your head slightly. “You know, all excited, sniffing around, looking for something to chew on…”

You almost heard Chishiya smirk.

Niragi’s lips curled. “Oh, you wanna talk about chewing, sweetheart?”

Your grin stayed, unbothered. “That’s what you took from that?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”

“Of course I do.” you said, clasping your hands in front of you now, rocking on your heels. “But I also know you only ever engage in my conversations when you get the chance to say something disgusting, so I’m not surprised.”

Chishiya let out a sharp breath through his nose, and when you glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at Niragi—he was looking at you.

“Am I wrong?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Not at all.” he answered, monotone.

Niragi clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “God, you two are fucking annoying.”

You smiled brightly. “I know!”

Niragi grumbled, going back to searching through some poor guy’s pockets, ignoring you.

You turned back to Chishiya, who was still walking beside you, hands in his pockets. “See? He never answers me unless he can turn it into something filthy.”

Chishiya blinked. “Because he’s a dog.”

“Exactly!” you laughed.

“And you’re still feeding him.”

That made you stop for half a second.

Before you could think too much about that, Niragi called out, voice laced with triumph.

“Fucking finally.”

Your stomach dropped.

Chishiya sighed.

You turned your head slowly.

Niragi grinned, holding up a bullet.

“One down.” he said, twirling it between his fingers. “Now we’re talking.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You were just walking, minding your own business, talking to yourself because neither of them cared enough to properly respond, when—

CRUNCH.

Glass shattered under Chishiya’s foot as he suddenly turned ninety degrees and walked straight into a building.

Through a broken window.

Just—gone.

What the fuck?

You blinked at the now-empty space beside you.

Your mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

“—Chishiya—?”

“Don’t follow me.”

And then… silence. Like he never even existed.

Oh. Okay. Sure.

You sighed, crossing your arms. Why were you even surprised? Chishiya was… Chishiya. He was always in his own little world, floating somewhere above everyone else’s heads, thinking things you’d never fully understand. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no explanation.

So, yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Disappear through a broken window.

You weren’t worried. He’d be fine.

…probably.

“Hey.”

You turned your head.

Niragi was staring at you. He tilted his chin towards the ground. “Check that guy’s pockets for me.”

“What?”

He nodded toward the corpse.

The one right next to your feet.

The one you just now noticed.

You yelped.

Spinning away, you squeezed your eyes shut, hugging yourself. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

Niragi snorted. “Jesus. You’re still like that?”

“Yes!” you huffed. “What do you mean, ‘still like that’? I’m normal!”

He scoffed, walking over and crouching down beside the body. “Whatever.”

You refused to look.

He rummaged through the pockets, humming to himself. You hugged yourself tighter. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” he said.

You sighed sharply. “Why are you like this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Probably too focused on looting a dead guy.

“So… what happened?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“When you came back all bloody.”

Oh. That.

You glanced down at yourself, like you’d find some leftover evidence of it on your clothes.

“Forgot to tell me, didn’t you?” he said, glancing up.

You pursed your lips, a little guilty.

Yeah. You forgot.

“Not much to say.” you shrugged. “A hearts game. Only one could make it out. Got attacked. Killed a guy.”

Niragi raised a brow. “That’s it?”

You hesitated.

Well…

No.

That wasn’t it.

There was more.

You bit your lip.

He watched you, smirk fading slightly. “Spit it out.”

You sighed. “I ran into these… guys.”

His brows furrowed.

“They were gonna—” You paused. “Well. You know.” You cleared your throat. “But I got away. Killed one, the rest ran. I handled it.”

He finally looked at you.

“Next time,” he said, standing up. “I’ll come with you.”

You watched him.

Felt something soft settle in your ribs.

For some reason, you couldn’t say anything to that at the moment, so you asked: “You find anything good?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe.”

Your heart was warm, suddenly.

“Let’s go.” Niragi said, brushing past you, hands in his pockets, that bullet still rolling between his fingers.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dark building Chishiya had disappeared into. “I want to wait for him.”

Niragi let out a short laugh. “He could be anywhere by now.”

You didn’t like that. It wasn’t true—was it? Chishiya wouldn’t just wander off without coming back, would he? Well… actually, maybe he would. He was impossible to predict, slipping in and out of things as easily as breathing. But still, you had this feeling—this certainty—that he would return.

“Just a little longer.” you said, crossing your arms, eyes fixed on the broken window.

Niragi groaned, rolling his head back like he was suffering. “Fucking hell. Fine. Whatever.”

But you didn’t have to wait long. Just as Niragi was about to start bitching again, there he was.

Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just disappeared for twenty minutes without a word.

Chishiya stepped right back through the same broken window, landing smoothly on the pavement with a soft crunch.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but before you could say anything, he just started walking.

No explanation. No acknowledgment.

You had no choice but to fall into step beside him, looking up at his face. He wasn’t injured, wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t carrying anything new. What the hell had he even been doing in there?

You opened your mouth to ask, but then—

“Finally.” Niragi scoffed, kicking a stray rock down the road. “Can we go now, princess?”

Your gaze flicked between them before you sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

And so, you continued.

The empty streets stretched ahead of you, littered with the crumbled remains of a world long gone. Faded signs, shattered windows, vines creeping up the sides of buildings that once buzzed with life. The silence was thick, only broken by the soft scuffs of your footsteps and the occasional distant creak of something settling.

Chishiya walked with his usual, lazy pace, hands tucked away, as if this was just another walk. Niragi, on the other hand, was distracted, constantly looking around, eyes flicking over the rubble, the corpses, the long-abandoned cars with shattered windows.

He was still searching.

Not for food. Not for supplies.

For bullets.

You watched him, a smile creeping onto your lips. “This is kind of like walking a dog.”

His head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. “Huh?”

You grinned, gesturing to him. “You’re all excited about your new toy, searching the ground for more treats. I should get you a leash.”

Chishiya made a soft sound—almost a chuckle—but said nothing.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch your mouth.”

You beamed. “Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”

His lips curled into a sharp, toothy grin. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Dogs bite when they get annoyed.” You mumbled.

He licked his teeth, tilting his head, gaze dropping down your body in a way that made your skin feel weird. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A sharp exhale came from Chishiya. Not a laugh. More like an exhausted why am I here kind of noise.

You shot him a quick glance before rolling your eyes. “You’re gross.”

Niragi only gave you a smug little smirk before suddenly darting forward, kicking over a pile of rubble, eyes scanning for anything useful.

You turned to Chishiya instead. “Where’d you even go back there?”

His eyes flicked to you, lingering for a moment, then drifted forward again. “Needed to check something.”

You waited for more.

Nothing.

“…And?”

He didn’t even blink. “Checked it.”

Right. Of course.

You huffed softly, shaking your head.

You spotted a store, you changed direction without a word, heading straight for it. A drugstore—or, well, what was left of one. The glass doors had been shattered, vines creeping along the edges of the building, but you could still make out the shelves inside, stocked with all the little things that made life a bit more comfortable. Soap, deodorant, skincare, perfume.

You didn’t need to say anything. You just went in.

“The fuck?!” Niragi groaned, stopping dead in his tracks. “No way in hell am I going in there.”

You turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s all that girly bullshit.” He made a face. “Not my problem if you wanna smell like a fuckin’ flower.”

You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “Fine, go find a stick to play with or something.”

“And don’t bring it back, boy.” Chishiya mumbled.

Your lips twitched.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed into a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “You two think you’re real fucking funny, huh?”

“Yes.” you said simply.

“Very.” Chishiya added, completely deadpan.

Niragi clicked his tongue and turned away with an annoyed scoff. “Whatever. Have fun sniffing shit.”

And with that, he disappeared back onto the street, hands stuffed in his pockets.

You grinned. Then, with a small shake of your head, you turned back toward the store, stepping carefully over the shattered glass at the entrance.

Chishiya followed.

The inside was dim, dust clinging to the air, but surprisingly intact. The shelves were lined with hygiene products, medicine bottles, and the occasional box of food long expired. You trailed your fingers along the edge of one of the aisles, scanning the labels, your eyes softening.

It was weird. You never really thought about how much you missed this stuff until it was gone. The simple comfort of picking out a nice soap, a scented lotion, a clean razor. It wasn’t even about luxury—it was about feeling human.

You glanced over your shoulder at Chishiya. “Might as well grab some stuff for you guys.”

He gave a slow blink. “There are barely people left alive.”

“And?” You plucked a small, familiar bottle off the shelf. “No excuse to stink.”

He didn’t argue. Not that he ever really argued—just made comments, short and to the point. If he thought this was a waste of time, he wasn’t bothered enough to stop you.

You kept moving, scanning the shelves, picking things up, setting them aside. Deodorant. Soap. A bottle of antiseptic, because you knew them, and knew someone would end up bloody before the week was over.

Then, on impulse, you grabbed a small container of body oil, twisting off the cap. You took a sniff—sweet, warm vanilla. Then, without thinking, you held it out to Chishiya. “Smell this.”

He stared at you for a second.

Then, after a long pause, he took the bottle and gave it a brief sniff.

“Too strong.” he said simply, handing it back.

You hummed. “Niragi might like it, though.”

“Obviously.”

You smiled a little, moving further down the aisle, grabbing another bottle of soap and holding it out to him again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate as long. Just gave it a quick sniff, then handed it back. “Better.”

That was basically approval.

You tucked it into the growing pile of things you’d set aside, moving, gathering more essentials, all for them. You didn’t even make him carry the bag, despite how much heavier it was getting.

You didn’t ask for help. You didn’t expect it.

Because that wasn’t the point.

You weren’t doing this because you had to. You weren’t doing it because you owed them anything.

You just cared.

You cared a lot.

You scanned the shelves, fingers trailing along the dusty labels until your gaze landed on a small row of razors.

You glanced at Chishiya, tilting your head slightly. “Do you guys need these for your little faces?”

He gave you a flat look.

You pursed your lips. “I don’t know how it works. Do you shave every day? Once a week? Do you even have to?”

You grabbed a few razors before he could even answer, tossing them into the bag with everything else. “Just in case.” you murmured to yourself, adjusting the weight on your arm before continuing down the aisle.

Chishiya followed, hands still stuffed lazily in his pockets.

It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of your footsteps against tile, until you broke the silence again.

“You know,” you started. “I used to love doing this. Just walking through stores, picking up random things, even if I didn’t need them.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. It was relaxing, I guess.” You reached for a bottle of lotion, twisting it open, sniffing it absently before tucking it back onto the shelf. “Something about being able to choose. I think we take that for granted—getting to pick things, little things, just because we want to.”

“You could’ve chosen not to come here.” he pointed out.

You smiled faintly. “True. But I like taking care of things. People.”

“You do.” he said simply.

It wasn’t a compliment. It wasn’t admiration. It was just fact.

You didn’t expect him to understand it. People like him—like Niragi—weren’t the type to look at kindness and just accept it.

No, they had to question it. They had to pick it apart, turn it over, examine it from every angle, waiting for the moment it stopped making sense.

Because in their world, kindness wasn’t real.

Not without an ulterior motive. Not without some hidden cost.

“You don’t trust it.” you murmured absently, grabbing another bottle of soap and tucking it into the bag. “Me, I mean.”

His silence was answer enough.

“You trust that I’m harmless,” you continued“but not the way I think. The way I act. You think people like me are either stupid or hiding something.”

He didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it, either.

You exhaled softly, shaking your head. “You ever think maybe I’m just… what I seem?”

“I think,” he said, voice slow. “that people are what they have to be.”

You paused, glancing at him. “Meaning?”

He looked back at you, expression unreadable. “People adapt.”

“Like you.”

“Like everyone.”

You let that settle between you for a moment, shifting the weight of the bag on your shoulder.

“You think Niragi adapted?” you asked.

He let out a short, quiet breath that could barely pass as a laugh. “Niragi is a cornered animal. He does whatever keeps him from feeling weak.”

You hummed, nodding thoughtfully.

It made sense.

Niragi didn’t just adapt—he overcorrected. He wasn’t just surviving, he was lashing out, sinking his teeth into anything that made him feel like prey.

“Doesn’t explain you, though.” you murmured.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded, lazy. “Doesn’t it?”

You thought about it for a second. Then, finally, you shook your head. “No. You’re not trying to protect yourself.”

Something flickered in his gaze, just for a second. Not surprise, not annoyance—just mild intrigue.

“You already know you’ll survive.” you said softly. “You don’t need to fight for that. You don’t need to chase control like Niragi does. You already have it.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away, either.

You smiled a little. “So why are you still here?”

He held your gaze for a moment longer before finally glancing away, giving nothing away. “Maybe I just enjoy watching the circus.” he murmured.

“I think you enjoy being in it just as much.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t deny it, either.

The two of you stepped out of the store, the air outside felt heavier, thick with the faint smell of overgrown plants. The streets were quiet, as always, abandoned buildings around you.

You adjusted the weight of the bag on your shoulder, glancing at Chishiya. He hadn’t offered to carry anything—not that you expected him to—but he had stayed with you the entire time, watching, listening, occasionally engaging when something piqued his interest.

“You ever miss it?” you asked, shifting the strap of the bag.

He didn’t look at you. “Miss what?”

“Life before all this.” You gestured vaguely at the emptiness around you. “When things were normal.”

He finally turned his head, eyes half-lidded. “Define normal.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted. “but your version of normal and mine were probably very different.”

You glanced at him, tilting your head. “Alright, then. What was normal for you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He walked in silence for a few paces, hands still lazily tucked into his pockets, his footsteps soft against the cracked pavement. “Normal was predictable.”

You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate.

“People,” he continued. “are predictable. The way they think, the way they react, the way they make their own choices. They follow patterns. They convince themselves they’re in control when they never were to begin with.”

You studied him for a moment, chewing on his words. “Sounds lonely.”

He gave you a slow glance. “Why?”

“Because people surprise me all the time.” you said simply. “I don’t always understand them. I don’t always know what they’ll do. But I like that. Then I figure it out anyway, everyone needs time.”

He exhaled softly, something barely passing as a chuckle under his breath. “That’s because you assume people are good.”

“No.” you corrected. “I assume people are people.”

He hummed, considering that, but didn’t argue.

Before you could say anything else, you spotted a figure a little ways down the street.

Niragi.

He wasn’t far. In fact, he was still right there, crouched over something, rummaging through debris like some sort of stray.

Your lips twitched. “Looks like he didn’t get very far.”

“Like a dog who got distracted halfway through running away.” Chishiya mumbled.

You grinned. “Maybe he found a squirrel.”

Chishiya snorted. “If he did, he’d probably shoot it just for the fun of it.”

You bit back a laugh. “Hey, maybe not. Maybe he just wanted a little chase first.”

The moment you spoke, Niragi straightened up, holding something in his hands—his gun, of course. He looked pleased with himself, cocking his head at you two. “Took you long enough.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, don’t mind us. We were just wondering if you got distracted chasing squirrels.”

His eye twitched. “The fuck?”

Chishiya let out a slow exhale. “Yeah, she’s giving you the benefit of the doubt. I personally assumed you just got lost like an idiot.”

Niragi rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “You’re both so fucking funny, really.”

“I try.” you said sweetly.

He flicked his gaze to your bag. “Stocked up on your girly shit?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, unbothered. “Got stuff for you too.”

That made him pause. He squinted at you, like he was trying to figure out if you were lying. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

Chishiya sighed dramatically. “A complete waste of supplies.”

Niragi shot him a glare, but you only laughed.

“Be nice.” you scolded lightly, nudging Chishiya with your elbow.

He gave you a look, clearly unimpressed, but didn’t say anything.

Niragi looked between the two of you. Then, with a smug smirk, he slung his gun over his shoulder and started walking. “Alright, whatever. Let’s get moving.”

You followed after him, Chishiya beside you, and for all the chaos they brought into your life, for all the absolute insanity they carried with them, you really didn’t mind. You liked walking between them like now, as always, keeping the peace, or at least trying to as Niragi walked ahead, his fingers wrapped around his gun. He’d been trigger happy since the second he got his hands on it, firing at anything he felt like. The sound of bullets rang through the empty streets, shattering glass, tearing through rusted-out cars, sending birds scattering from the vines creeping up abandoned buildings.

He was so fucking pleased with himself. Every time a shot went off, he grinned, licking his teeth like some predator tasting blood.

You watched him, arms crossed. “You’re gonna run out of bullets before you even need them.”

“Relax.” he mused, reloading almost sensually. “I’ll find more.”

Chishiya, hands lazily tucked into his pockets, exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, you better. You’re burning through them like an idiot.”

Niragi smirked at that, cocking his head. “Oh? You worried about me, little man?”

Chishiya didn’t even look at him. “Not even remotely.”

You sighed, shaking your head as Niragi let off another shot. The fuckass wasn’t even aiming at anything, just shooting to shoot. The power in his hands made him glow. He was practically vibrating with it.

A gunshot.

Not from Niragi.

Not from Chishiya.

Not from you.

Your breath caught as the sharp crack of a bullet ripped through the air, hitting a rusted-out street sign a few feet from Niragi’s head. The metal screeched on impact. Your ears rang.

What the fuck?

Before you could even react, Chishiya was already moving.

Not fast, not panicked, just… calm.

Too calm.

With an almost lazy tilt of his head, he muttered, “Come on.” and pulled you by the wrist toward cover, completely unbothered that someone had just shot at you.

Meanwhile, Niragi was already on the hunt.

Gun raised, smiling like this was the best fucking thing that had happened all day, he moved toward the source of the shot. His excitement was wild, the air around him practically crackling as he walked forward, licking his lips.

Another shot rang out—missed.

A flash of movement. A figure, not far, panicked hands trembling around the barrel of a gun, breath hitching in raw fear.

“Shit.” the man muttered under his breath, backpedaling, but Niragi was on him.

It was over before it even started.

One shot—clean.

Straight to the chest.

The man crumpled, barely getting a strangled gasp past his lips before hitting the ground.

And Niragi—god, Niragi—he was fucking grinning. Chest rising and falling, he sighed, fucking satisfied. His fingers twitched against the trigger, almost tempted to fire again, just for the fuck of it.

“That all you got?” he muttered to the dead man. “Pathetic.”

You exhaled sharply.

The way he thrived in it, fed off it, fuck.

And yet—the moment his gaze flickered to yours, when he saw the way you were looking at him—his shoulders squared. He tilted his chin, almost like he was daring you to say something about it.

But instead, you moved forward.

Softly, carefully, your hands rose, fingertips brushing against his jaw as you cradled his face. His skin was warm, his pulse racing beneath your thumbs, his breath still heavy from the rush.

“Are you okay?” you murmured, searching his eyes.

He froze.

The smirk, the arrogance—it faltered.

You weren’t scolding him. You weren’t judging him.

You were worried.

And fuck, something about that—

He hated it.

His lips parted, but nothing came out. His body locked up, every muscle tensing, his mind short-circuiting as you looked at him like he was something fragile.

You pulled away.

Right.

He told you not to fucking touch him.

Your fingers slipped from his skin, and you took a small step back, gaze dropping.

“Sorry.” you murmured, voice softer.

For some reason—that pissed him off.

His jaw tightened, fingers flexing around the grip of his gun as he glared at you. “Tch. My neck hurts.” he muttered suddenly, tone mean. “Check that, though.”

You blinked, looking up at him.

What?

He rolled his eyes, exaggerated, and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Fucking hell. My neck. Feels stiff. Check it or whatever.”

It was a shitty excuse.

So obvious.

But you didn’t call him on it.

You knew what this was.

And so, gently, you reached out again, fingers brushing against his skin, feeling for any tension, checking him the way he so obviously wanted you to.

He let out a slow exhale, eyes flickering shut for just a second.

And Chishiya? He just watched. Because he knew exactly what this was.

And what was worse? So did you.

You didn’t linger. There was no reason to, no point in standing over a dead body longer than necessary. Even if you did feel the heavy weight of it in your stomach, the twisting sensation in your chest that reminded you—that was a person.

Was.

But Niragi was grinning as you touched him, and Chishiya was indifferent, and you… well, you had to keep moving, didn’t you?

So you did.

Turning on your heel, you pulled your hands away from Niragi’s soft face and you exhaled, brushing your hands against your sides as if shaking something off. Maybe you were. Maybe you had to.

“Alright.” you said, shifting your focus. “Let’s go. We still need to hit a pharmacy, and I’m not planning on spending all day out here.”

Chishiya didn’t react much, as expected, but over your shoulder, you caught the faintest movement of his hand, waving lazily in Niragi’s direction.

Pfft. Oh, come on.

Your gaze flickered to Niragi, just in time to see him flip him off.

You bit your lip, amused, and instead of ignoring it like any sane person would, you just waved back.

That was you.

The sunshine between two storms. A soft glow in the middle of static and fire, cutting through the men who barely even liked each other, much less the world around them.

A small thing, a little thing, but something that stood out.

Because who the fuck waves back at that?

You.

Of course you did.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes so hard it looked like it physically hurt. “Tch. You’re so fucking weird.” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Just acknowledgment.

Like he didn’t just get you to touch him. What he loved so much.

And Chishiya? He was watching you. Like he was filing away every small action in that mind of his, tucking it next to all the other pieces of you he was slowly figuring out.

But you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you smiled, stepping forward. “Come on.” you urged, looking between them. “We still have stuff to get.”

With that, you started walking, and they followed.

Niragi trailed next to you, searching the ground for spare bullets like some stray dog sniffing for food, his fingers twitching every time he saw anything remotely useful. And Chishiya? He kept his hands in his pockets as he observed the ruins of the city.

They were so different, but somehow, both ended up here, next to you.

Maybe that was the funniest part.

“So,” you started, breaking the silence. “do either of you need anything from the pharmacy, or is this gonna be another situation where I carry everything for you?”

“You offered.” Chishiya pointed out.

“You let me.” you countered.

He didn’t argue.

And Niragi? Well, he wasn’t listening. Too busy kicking over debris, turning over bodies, rifling through pockets.

You frowned, eyes flicking to him. “Do you really think you’re gonna find more ammo just lying around like that?”

He shot you a look. “Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

That made Chishiya huff a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, and you swore you saw the faintest flicker of something pass through Niragi’s expression before he clicked his tongue and kept looking.

“Sniffing around for something to chew on.” you murmured after a moment, watching him dig through a discarded bag.

Chishiya glanced at you. “Don’t encourage him.”

Niragi’s grin was slow, dangerous. “Careful, baby.” he purred, standing up straight, the gun dangling loosely in his fingers. “You might just end up being that something.”

Your face heated.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “That was pathetic.”

Niragi shot him a glare. “The fuck did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay, okay.” you cut in, holding up a hand. “Can we go five minutes without one of you threatening to kill the other?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, stuffing his free hand in his pocket. “Not my fault he pisses me off just by existing.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly. “Maybe if your self-control wasn’t the equivalent of a feral animal’s, you’d handle it better.”

Niragi’s eye twitched.

Oh, god.

“Anyway,” you said, loudly. “pharmacy. Let’s go before the two of you actually start throwing punches.”

Niragi sneered. “You think I’d actually waste my energy on him?”

Chishiya didn’t even blink. “You don’t have enough to waste.”

Oh, he was evil.

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh threatening to bubble up, because if you did, Niragi might actually snap.

But instead of firing back, Niragi just clicked his pierced tongue again, sending you a glare before walking ahead, muttering curses under his breath.

And Chishiya? He just smirked. To himself.

What an asshole.

But you were grinning as you followed after them, walking in the middle, keeping them separated.

It was weird.

You were weird.

Because somehow, even with a trigger happy psychopath on one side and a calculating sociopath on the other, you still managed to make it work.

And somehow—somehow, they let you.

~

The three of you made it back to the apartment without much issue—well, aside from Niragi shooting at random shit on the way back, and Chishiya nearly vanishing into another abandoned building. Again. But overall, it was smooth. For once.

You kicked the door shut behind you, adjusting the heavy bags in your arms as you watched the two of them immediately collapse onto the couch, sitting as far apart as humanly possible.

Honestly, if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were allergic to each other.

Chishiya sat back, one leg propped up, hands still lazily stuffed in his hoodie pocket. Watching. Niragi, on the other hand, slouched forward, head tilting back as he let out a long exhale, gun still loosely gripped in his hand.

“Wow.” you said, teasingly, setting the bags down with a soft thud. “You two look exhausted. Who knew following me around all day would be so hard?”

Niragi cracked an eye open. “Shut the fuck up.”

You giggled.

Then, you clapped your hands together.

“Alright!” you chirped, crouching down and opening the first bag. “Haul!”

Chishiya blinked slowly, unimpressed. Niragi groaned. “You’re seriously gonna—”

“Yes.”

Neither of them moved.

But there was nothing else to do. No distractions, no other noise. Just you, their only source of entertainment at the moment.

And so, you started.

First bag.

“Okay.” you said, pulling out the first item, setting it on the coffee table. “Soap. This one is for me, but I also got a few for you guys. Niragi, yours is this one—” you pulled out a different soap, one of the ones you made Chishiya smell earlier, placing it in front of him, “—because I think you’ll actually use it if you like the way it smells.”

Niragi snorted. “You saying I stink?”

“I’m saying I’m encouraging good hygiene.”

Chishiya huffed a breath through his nose, and you smiled before pulling out the next one. “Chishiya, yours is this one.” you said, placing it down. “I figured you wouldn’t really care, so I just picked one that was clean and simple.”

Chishiya didn’t react much, just flicked his gaze to it and nodded once.

You pulled out another thing.

“Deodorant.” you said. “For both of you. Again, good hygiene.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, but he took it.

Chishiya, again, just nodded.

You moved on.

“Shampoo.” you continued, pulling out a few bottles. “I got different ones for each of us, obviously. This one is mine, this one’s yours—” you pointed at Niragi, “—and this one is yours.” You pointed at Chishiya. “I was gonna get conditioner, too, but I doubt either of you care enough to use it, so I only got for myself. Tell me if you want to borrow it.”

Niragi grinned. “You’d use it on me, wouldn’t you, baby?”

You didn’t even look up. “No.”

Chishiya smirked, and Niragi’s grin dropped.

You kept going. More essentials. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, things they probably didn’t even think about grabbing for themselves. You went through each one, explaining why you got it, who it was for, how you were going to make sure they used it.

“You are not going to be living in my space and smelling like absolute garbage.” you said, very matter-of-factly.

Niragi chuckled. “You think you can control me?”

“I can control whether or not you get dinner tonight.”

That actually shut him up.

Next bag.

Medical supplies.

“Bandages.” you said, pulling them out. “Disinfectant, painkillers, gauze. You guys get hurt way too much for my liking, so I stocked up on as much as I could.”

Neither of them could argue with that. Because you were right.

You continued.

Razors.

“I don’t know how often you guys shave, but I figured it was better to have some than not.”

Chishiya just tilted his head slightly.

Niragi scoffed. “You’re acting like this is some normal world where we care about that shit.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because you look better clean shaven.”

That actually made him pause.

Chishiya raised an eyebrow.

You moved on before Niragi could get cocky about it.

Snacks.

“Didn’t find much, but I got what I could.” you said, pulling out a few small things—some chips, a chocolate bar that was still sealed. “Not the best, but it’s something.”

Niragi grabbed the chocolate immediately.

Chishiya let him.

The final bag.

“Okay.” you said, voice softer now, pulling out something specifically for them. “This is… just a small thing, but I thought it might be nice.”

You placed two objects on the table. One was a lighter—not a cheap one, but a good one, sleek and silver. The other was a pocket knife.

Niragi’s eyes flickered.

Chishiya’s fingers twitched.

“I thought you might like them.” you said, genuine, soft. “You don’t have to take them, but… yeah.”

Silence.

Chishiya picked up the lighter, turning it over in his fingers, inspecting it.

Niragi took the knife, flicking it open with a slow grin.

They didn’t thank you.

They never would.

But they kept them.

And that was enough.

With that, you let out a breath, sitting back. “Okay.” you said, smiling. “That’s everything.”

They were still looking at their gifts.

And you just watched.

Because they didn’t appreciate you enough. But they didn’t reject you, either.

And that was something.

You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a satisfied sigh. They took everything you gave them. No complaints—well, aside from Niragi’s usual attitude—but they kept their things. That was what mattered.

Then, you gestured to the one bag you hadn’t gone through yet.

“And the food’s in there.” you said simply, already picking it up and heading toward the kitchen. “Which means I’m gonna make dinner.”

Neither of them moved.

You knew they wouldn’t.

So you went on your own.

God, you were an angel.

They weren’t even good people. They weren’t kind or grateful, they weren’t soft or sweet or anything you were—and yet, you were still here, making them dinner, caring for them like they deserved it.

They didn’t.

But you did it anyway.

You set the bag down on the counter, rolling your shoulders before pulling everything out, sorting through what you had. Canned vegetables, some dried things, a few things you could throw together into something actually edible. Cooking stole your attention from your aching side.

“You guys want anything specific?”

Silence.

“You’re making it, aren’t you?” Niragi scoffed. “Why the fuck would we care?”

You hummed. “You should be careful with that mouth of yours.” you teased. “What if I just give you a plate of plain rice and let you starve?”

Niragi grinned. “I think we both know you wouldn’t.”

You sighed.“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

Chishiya hadn’t said anything. He just sat there, watching, arms crossed, always observing. You didn’t push him. Instead, you went about cooking.

Eventually, Niragi got bored of sitting in silence, grumbling under his breath as he stood up and wandered toward the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched.

You glanced at him. “What?”

He smirked. “Never seen someone actually enjoy making food before.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, considering you’d probably eat dirt if I didn’t make anything, someone’s gotta do it.”

Niragi chuckled.

Chishiya finally spoke from the couch. “She’s not wrong.”

Niragi immediately turned to glare at him. “Shut the fuck up, lab rat.”

Chishiya didn’t even look at him.

You laughed.

The rest of the meal prep was surprisingly peaceful. You stirred the pot, checking the food, feeling their eyes on you. Niragi never moved too far away, always lingering, bumping into you on purpose like he didn’t know how to exist without taking up space.

Chishiya never joined, but he never left, either. And that was enough.

Eventually, the food was ready. You plated everything carefully, adding extra to Chishiya’s plate because he deserved it.

You carried the plates over, setting them down in front of them, so sweet, like an angel handing down gifts from heaven.

And they just… took them.

Because that’s what they did.

And you let them.

You gathered your things—a lot of them, honestly—picking up everything you needed before turning to the two boys still sitting on the couch. They had already started eating, Niragi shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days, Chishiya taking slow bites. They didn’t even look at you.

Still, you smiled. You always smiled.

“Alright, I’m heading to bed.” you said, balancing your things in your arms. “You guys can knock if you need anything, okay?”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Of course.

You sighed, happy for some reason. “Good night, boys.”

And with that, you left. Your door clicked shut behind you, enclosing you in a space that was finally, finally quiet.

But outside, the two of them sat in silence.

For a moment, they just ate, neither of them acknowledging the other.

“Kill yourself.” Niragi said simply, as if he were suggesting Chishiya take a walk.

Chishiya didn’t even look up. “I’ll consider it.”

Silence again.

They were so different.

And yet, so similar.

Niragi was a wildfire. Destructive, uncontrollable, burning through everything in his path just to prove he could. He thrived on chaos, on violence, on power. A dog that had been caged too long.

And Chishiya? Cold. A slow-burning ember instead of a raging flame, waiting for the perfect moment to spark into something dangerous.

He hated Niragi.

But deep down, he could see the similarities.

And that was what made him hate him the most.

But what made them stay? Both of them?

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

Niragi, who could’ve been anywhere, who could’ve killed and taken what he wanted like he used to, stayed here. In this apartment. With you. Chishiya, who had no reason to tie himself down, no reason to rely on anyone but himself, stayed too.

Why?

Why did they let you do what you did? Why did they sit through your endless chatter, why did they tolerate your soft hands and warm words, why didn’t they push you away like they had done to everyone else before you?

It wasn’t kindness. Kindness was fleeting. Weak. Kindness got people killed.

But you? You weren’t just being nice.

You were invested.

In them.

And that was what made the difference.

You weren’t just another person trying to survive, someone using them as much as they used you. You weren’t after power, you weren’t trying to manipulate them, you weren’t even trying to change them. You were just there. Cooking for them. Talking to them. Treating them like they were people.

It was… strange.

Unsettling.

Niragi wasn’t used to it. He had spent so much time tearing the world apart, playing god with people’s lives, forcing his way into power so no one could ever hurt him again. No one cared about him. Not really. They feared him, they hated him, they wanted him dead.

But you? You worried about him. You asked him if he was okay, you praised him, you touched him.

And god, he hated it.

(He didn’t hate it.)

(He hated how much he liked it.)

Chishiya, on the other hand, saw it for what it was. You were just the kind of person who did this. You looked at people and wanted to know them. You looked at monsters and wondered what made them that way.

You thought you were smart about it. And in a way, you were. You weren’t naive. You weren’t weak. You weren’t someone who thought love could fix people, and you weren’t stupid enough to think either of them were good.

But still, you stayed.

And still, they let you.

Maybe because it was entertaining, at first. A fun distraction, an arrangement. But now?

Now, it was just how things were.

And neither of them had any plans to leave.

Niragi noticed it first, in the way he looked forward to your attention. In the way he waited for it, craved it. That wasn’t normal. He didn’t fucking need people. He didn’t need comfort, he didn’t need warmth, he didn’t need anything but himself.

So why the fuck did it feel so good when you touched him? When you looked at him with something that wasn’t fear? When you smiled at him, when you cared?

He wasn’t stupid. He knew how people worked. He knew how to make them do what he wanted.

But you? You weren’t afraid of him. And you weren’t weak, either.

So why were you still here? Why weren’t you running? And why, why the fuck did it make his chest feel tight just thinking about it?

For Chishiya, it was subtler. He hadn’t expected to notice you this much.

He noticed everything, of course. It was just who he was. People were predictable, easy to figure out, easy to manipulate.

But you? You weren’t predictable. Or rather, you were, but not in the way he was used to. He could track the way you thought, the way your mind worked, the way you looked at people and picked them apart just like he did.

But you weren’t calculating. You weren’t doing it to get ahead, you weren’t doing it to gain control. You just… wanted to understand.

And for some reason, you wanted to understand him, too.

He wasn’t used to that.

He wasn’t used to being seen.

And worse? He wasn’t sure he minded it.

Niragi scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “Bet your mom regrets not swallowing you.”

Chishiya barely glanced at him. “Bet yours regrets not throwing herself down the stairs.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh. “You should’ve let those bullets do their job.”

Chishiya smirked. “You should let a rope and a hook do theirs.”

Niragi’s grin widened. “You should let me break your fucking nose.”

Chishiya shrugged. “You should let me neuter you.”

Niragi sneered, baring his teeth. “Try it and I’ll make you eat your own fingers.”

Chishiya, deadpan: “I’d still have more than you.”

Silence.

Niragi clenched his jaw, inhaled through his nose, and muttered “Fucking hate you.”

Chishiya exhaled, relaxing against the couch. “Mutual.”

~

The morning light barely filtered through the grimy windows, casting a dull glow over the living room as you padded in, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint rustling of something in the kitchen. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead before making your way toward the sound, the pain in your side harmless now.

Chishiya was already there, standing at the counter with an opened bottle of water in hand, taking small, slow sips. He looked as indifferent as ever, his half-lidded gaze shifting toward you for only a second before returning to whatever he was thinking about.

You smiled immediately. “Good morning.”

He barely acknowledged it with a quiet hum, which, at this point, you took as a victory.

You pulled open a cabinet, looking over what little remained of the supplies you hadn’t restocked yet. “You wake up early.”

“I never really sleep.” His tone was flat, disinterested, like he had already checked out of this conversation before it began.

You didn’t let that stop you. “Well, that’s not healthy.”

He gave you a look, like seriously? Then, he tipped the bottle back, taking another sip.

Undeterred, you continued. “Do you want breakfast? I can make something real quick.”

“I don’t really eat this early.”

“Oh, right. You’re just so mysterious and above mortal needs.” you teased, reaching for a box of something anyway. “Well, I do. So if you change your mind, just say the word.”

No response.

You moved around the kitchen as you talked, pulling things together in that little effortless way you did, completely comfortable in your role as the one who took care of things. “Is Niragi still sleeping?”

Chishiya shrugged, setting the bottle down on the counter. “Either that or he’s doing something disgusting.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, I don’t want to think about that.”

Another small silence. You cracked a few eggs, humming absently to yourself. The domesticity of it was so… strange. The world had gone to hell, and here you were, making breakfast in a dimly lit kitchen, talking to a man who’d probably let someone bleed out just to see how long it took.

But fuck him if he didn’t like your company.

Chishiya found himself listening more than he intended. Your voice was light and pretty, your words coming easily, always filling the empty space without suffocating it. Most people talked to be heard. You talked because you liked sharing—small things, little nothings, just the casual, easy flow of conversation.

And what was worse? He found himself engaging. Not much, not in the way you probably wanted, but just enough. He was aware of it. The way he would answer your questions in short responses instead of ignoring them altogether. The way he kept standing there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, letting you talk at him instead of walking away like he normally would.

He didn’t understand it.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t hate it, though.

You slid a plate onto the counter, something quick and simple, a little warm meal for yourself. “You sure you don’t want any?”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t change my mind that fast.”

“I don’t know, you do seem like a wildcard sometimes.” You smiled playfully before taking a bite.

He said nothing. Just watched you, observed, took in the way you moved, the way you carried yourself. You weren’t naive. You knew exactly who he was—what he was. And yet, here you were, talking to him like he was just a guy in your kitchen, like the world wasn’t falling apart, like you hadn’t dragged him out of a bloodied alleyway just days ago.

It was interesting.

Maybe even entertaining.

But most of all, it was dangerous.

And yet, he was still here.

Soon, Niragi walked in, barefoot, shirtless, stretching his arms over his head as he let out a dramatic yawn. His hair was a mess, sticking up in the back, and his eyes were filled irritation, like a wild animal that had just been rudely woken from hibernation.

“What the fuck are you two so loud for?” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. He scratched at his stomach, looking between you and Chishiya. “Some of us actually sleep, you know.”

Immediately, you looked at him with soft concern, already feeling bad. “Oh, sorry, Niragi. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

Chishiya, on the other hand, didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept standing there, arms crossed, like Niragi was nothing more than an unfortunate background noise.

That only pissed Niragi off more. “Of course you don’t give a shit.” he sneered, stepping further into the kitchen. “Cold little bastard. Probably doesn’t even blink when people die in front of him.”

Chishiya took another sip of water, completely unbothered. “You didn’t die, though. Shame.”

You sighed. Loudly. “Okay, can we not start this early? It’s too soon for this.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, then sniffed the air. “What’s for breakfast?”

You instantly brightened. “I can make you something!” You pushed your chair back, standing up quickly, already moving toward the stove without a second thought. No hesitation. No thinking about it. You just moved. Like it was your job. Like it was instinctual.

Niragi sat himself at the counter, propping his elbow up as he leaned into his hand. “Damn. You’re really trying to be a housewife, huh?”

You just smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “No. I just don’t mind taking care of you guys.”

Chishiya, from his spot against the counter, noticed. Not your words. Not Niragi.

But your plate.

Sitting there.

Untouched.

Still warm, barely eaten from, abandoned the moment Niragi wanted something.

His eyes flickered to you, watching as you moved around the kitchen, busying yourself with grabbing things, fully forgetting the meal you made for yourself just minutes ago.

You probably didn’t even realize it.

But he did.

And yet, as much as he wanted to test something—push a button, say something cold, make you sit back down and finish it—he didn’t.

Because this was the way things worked with you. You gave, and they took.

That’s just how it was.

You worked in the kitchen, your hands moved, pulling out ingredients, heating the pan, pouring oil like you’d done this a million times. You weren’t thinking about it, it was just muscle memory. Too busy with it to even check out Niragi shirtless, which really was a waste, but you really weren’t about that. You just wanted him to feel good.

Niragi, from his spot at the counter, had his chin propped up on his hand, watching you.

“You don’t have to cook for us every day, you know.” he said, voice still raspy from sleep. “We’re not helpless.”

You hummed. “I know. I just like doing it.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I bet. Makes you feel all useful, huh?”

You gave him a look over your shoulder, but there was no real bite to it. “No. It makes me feel like I’m taking care of people who deserve it.”

His eyebrows raised, like he was genuinely surprised by that response. “Hah. That’s a new one.”

“You act like you don’t deserve nice things, Niragi.”

He laughed at that. Like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I don’t.”

You frowned slightly, turning back to the stove. “That’s not true.”

He leaned forward, his elbow on the counter, fingers drumming against the surface. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Maybe not everything.” you admitted, cracking an egg into the pan. “But I know you’re more than just what you put out.”

He tilted his head. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You smiled, soft. “Someone worth making breakfast for.”

His face faltered. Just for a second. Then, his expression shifted again, twisting back into something cocky and shameless, covering up whatever that moment was. “Damn, babe. You trying to make me fall for you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Eat your food first, then we’ll talk.”

Chishiya, from the corner of the kitchen, watched. Silent, arms crossed, always watching.

He saw the way you moved, the way you gave so easily, the way you never hesitated to take care of them.

He also saw how easily Niragi ate it up, pulling you in, testing your limits, taking as much as you let him.

It wasn’t surprising. Niragi was an animal. No self-control, no hesitation, no filter. He took whatever he wanted, because he could.

And you? You let him. Not out of naivety. Not out of stupidity.

Out of choice.

And that’s what bothered him.

Because why?

Why them?

Why him?

The whole thing made his brain itch.

Still, he didn’t say anything. Not yet. He just waited as you finished up, plating the food, turning back to them with that same warm smile as you walked over.

“Here you go.” you said, placing their plates down. Both of their plates, even while Chishiya didn’t ask for it.

Niragi snatched his up immediately, already digging in, while Chishiya just… looked at his. Not moving.

You sighed. “Chishiya.”

He raised a brow.

“You have to eat.” you insisted, placing a hand on your hip. “It’s not healthy to keep skipping meals.”

He didn’t argue. Just stared at you for a long moment, calculating something in his mind. Then—without breaking eye contact—he nodded his chin toward the counter behind you.

“Eat that.”

Your brows furrowed. “…What?”

He gestured lazily with his fork. “Your plate.”

Oh.

Right.

The one you abaandoned.

Your mouth opened slightly, caught off guard. That was… nice of him?

Niragi, with a mouth full of food, glanced up between you two, scoffing. “What, you two having a moment?”

You quickly shook your head, moving to grab your plate, finally sitting back down. “I was gonna eat anyway.” you mumbled.

Chishiya said nothing.

He just started eating.

And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just making sure you did the same.

~

You stood in the middle of the living room, holding a small wooden decoration in your hands, tilting your head as you decided where to place it. Chishiya sat on the couch, watching you, his arms draped lazily over the back of the couch.

“This one or that one?” You held up the small decoration, gesturing between two shelves on the wall. “I can’t decide.”

Chishiya barely glanced at them. “That one.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t care.”

You rolled your eyes but placed it on the shelf he pointed at anyway. Then, as you moved to adjust another item—a small framed picture of some landscape you had picked up—Chishiya spoke again.

“Why are you doing this?”

You glanced at him, setting the frame down. “Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely to the room, to the little trinkets and decorations you had been setting up all morning. “Making the place look nice.”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “Because I live here?”

Chishiya hummed. “And you think it’s worth putting effort into?”

“Of course.” You turned to face him fully, placing your hands on your hips. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He raised a brow. “Because it’s temporary.”

You frowned. “Everything is temporary.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re too sentimental.”

You huffed, turning back to the shelf. “And you’re too cynical.”(AN: took me so much time to find the perfect word for this omg)

Before he could respond, Niragi walked into the room, stretching his arms over his head, cracking his neck like he had just rolled out of bed, he probably did though. He was in a sleeveless top of yours(he stole it without a word but you didn’t question it), his piercings catching the dim light.

He stopped when he saw what you were doing.

“The fuck is all this?” he asked, brows pulling together as he scanned the shelves.

“Decorating.” you answered simply, not turning away from your work.

Niragi let out a short laugh, stepping closer. “Why?”

“You and Chishiya are like the same person, I swear.” You sighed, stepping back to look at the placement of your decorations. “Because I want to.”

Niragi raised a brow. “You’re seriously wasting time putting up… what is this? A ceramic cat?” He picked up a small figurine from the shelf, holding it up with a smirk.

You snatched it from his hand. “Yes, and it’s adorable.”

He scoffed, watching you. “You’re really making this place all cute, huh?”

“Yes.” You turned to him, tilting your head. “And you’re gonna help me.”

His smirk faltered. “The fuck I am.”

You smiled sweetly, grabbing something off the nearby table—a slightly larger decoration, a framed map you had found—holding it up to him. “You’re tall. You can put this one up for me.”

He snorted. “You got arms, baby.”

“But I don’t have the height.” You stepped closer, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Come on, just this one?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think if you blink at me like that I’ll just do what you say?”

“Yes.”

He opened his mouth to argue—then shut it again. Because yeah. That was exactly what was happening.

With an exaggerated groan, he snatched the frame from your hands. “You’re a pain in the ass.” He muttered some more things under his breath as he lifted his arms, easily reaching the spot you had pointed at.

You turned to Chishiya, grinning. “See? Teamwork.”

Chishiya just watched with the driest expression possible. “You’re making him your personal servant.”

“Yep.” you agreed happily.

Niragi scoffed. “Shut up, cat.”

Chishiya’s lips twitched slightly, amused at how quickly Niragi took the bait.

When Niragi finished securing the frame, he stepped back, nodding. “There. Happy now?”

You beamed up at him. “Very.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t actually seem annoyed.

And just like that, you went back to arranging things, while Niragi stood there, hands on his hips, watching you work.

Chishiya didn’t move from the couch. He just observed, taking in the way Niragi had given in so easily.

This was dangerous.

Not the decorations. Not the routine.

You.

Because they weren’t supposed to care about things like this.

You turned back to Niragi, scanning the room with an exaggerated hmm before picking up another small decoration—asimple, metallic wall hook.

“Okay, one more.” you said, holding it up to him with a charming smile.

Niragi sighed dramatically. “You’re killin’ me, angel.”

“You’ll survive.”

He grabbed it from you, grumbling something under his breath as he walked over to where you gestured. He acted like he was annoyed, like he had been forced into this, but his hands were steady, and he didn’t hesitate when he secured it in place.

“There. Done.”

You examined his work, nodding approvingly. “Perfect. You did good.”

Just as you turned to pick something else up, Niragi groaned.

“You’re not gonna keep givin’ me shit, are you?”

You immediately held up another small frame. “Just one more.”

“Bullshit.” He snatched it anyway.

You pointed to a spot on the wall. “There.”

Instead of following your direction, Niragi put it in a different spot, slightly off-center from the others.

You blinked.

Stared at it.

Then slowly turned your head to glare at him.

Niragi just grinned at you, tilting his head before sticking his tongue out—teasing you like a brat who knew exactly what he was doing.

But you weren’t paying attention to his smug little attitude.

Oh.

Your gaze locked onto the small silver ball on his tongue, catching the light as he flicked it at you.

A piercing.

Huh. You never really looked at it before.

But now, standing this close, you were fascinated.

Before you even thought about it, before you even realized what you were doing…

You reached out and grabbed his tongue.

Just.

Straight-up pinched it between your fingers.

Niragi froze.

Chishiya—who had been silently watching this entire interaction—blinked, sitting up slightly, eyes narrowing.

You tilted your head, shamelessly examining the piercing, your fingers holding his tongue carefully as you looked at the small metal ball.

It was cute.

His tongue was warm, soft, slick under your fingertips, and for some reason, you felt zero hesitation about doing this.

Niragi made a choked sound, his eyes wide with disbelief, like his brain couldn’t process what was happening.

“Hell?” he mumbled, voice muffled, ‘the’ left out only because he couldn’t pronounce it like this.

“Did it hurt?” you asked casually, still inspecting it, genuinely curious.

Niragi stared at you like you had lost your fucking mind. “You’re insane.” he finally said, though he didn’t pull away.

You let go of his tongue, stepping back with a bright smile. “I just never saw one up close before.”

Niragi ran his tongue over his lip, blinking at you, still looking a little caught off guard. “You’re seriously messed up, you know that?”

You just laughed. “Says you.”

Chishiya watched. Observed the way Niragi—someone who had no problem pulling a trigger, someone who could kill without blinking—had been completely thrown off by your actions.

And he hated it.

Because you were sweet.

Too sweet for your own good.

And it was messing with them.

Niragi kept looking at you. Staring, even. But you? You just turned away, completely unbothered, looking through the remaining decorations on the table.

“Still gonna make me put shit up?” Niragi finally said, voice a little rough, still running his tongue over his lip like he was checking to make sure it was still there.

“Yup!” you answered cheerfully, picking up another small piece, then turning to Chishiya. “Unless you wanna help?”

Chishiya gave you a look. “Mm. No.”

“Didn’t think so.” you muttered.

Niragi grinned at that. “The little rat won’t help you with shit.” he said, crossing his arms.

Chishiya simply shrugged. “Why would I? You’re already doing it.”

“Tch.” Niragi scoffed, looking back at you. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

You giggled.

Niragi’s expression flickered for a second—just a second—before he turned back to the wall, reaching for the next thing you handed him.

You continued talking as he worked, making little comments about how the place was finally feeling like a home. Your home.

“You’re really settling in, huh?” Niragi said, his tone unreadable. New.

You hummed, looking around the room. “Well… yeah. I mean, where else would I go?”

Silence.

That was a question neither of them had an answer to.

There was nowhere else. No outside world waiting for you. No normal life to go back to, at least you didn’t know about that.

This was it. This was what was left.

And for some reason—some completely insane reason—these two absolute psychopaths had stuck around.

Or rather—you had made them stay.

The realization lingered in the air.

Niragi didn’t comment on it.

Chishiya didn’t need to.

Instead, you went back to chatting.

Lighthearted, soft, sweet.

Because what else could you do?

Eventually, Niragi finished putting everything up and flopped onto the couch, stretching his arms over the backrest.

“Done.” he announced, grinning at you. “I better be getting paid for this shit.”

You smiled, hands on your hips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Niragi raised an eyebrow, clearly about to say something filthy. Chishiya, without even looking up from where he sat, cut in first.“Not with that attitude, you won’t.”

Niragi snapped his head towards him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Chishiya smirked.

Oh, here we go.

You just sighed as they started up again, Niragi already leaning forward like he was ready to fight, Chishiya barely lifting his gaze, looking bored.

It was the same old bullshit.

And honestly?

You didn’t mind.

Because at the end of the day, you were still here, and so were they.

~

You were being careful.

You had to be.

Niragi was not subtle when he told you that the next time you had to play, he was coming with you. No arguments. No protests. No way in hell he’d let you go alone.

And that was sweet, really.

In the most Niragi way possible.

But the thought of him stepping into a game after everything? The fact that he was still healing, still limping a little even though he’d act like he wasn’t—like it didn’t fucking hurt—made your stomach twist.

So, yeah. You were sneaking out.

It wasn’t like Chishiya would care, anyway. If anything, he’d probably just say something about how he already knew.

But Niragi?

Oh, Niragi would be fucking pissed.

Which was exactly why you had to time it right.

You had been watching. Waiting. Making sure the two of them weren’t around.

And now? Now was your chance.

The apartment was quiet.

Chishiya wasn’t on the couch. Niragi was nowhere to be seen. They were either in their rooms or just not here at all.

Good.

Carefully, you grabbed your things. A bag, a jacket, anything else you might need. You wouldn’t be able to bring much—you needed to move fast.

A deep breath. A glance toward the hallway, toward the door.

Still quiet.

Okay.

You could do this.

You knew the floorboards well enough by now. Which ones creaked, which ones didn’t. You made sure to step lightly, quickly, keeping your breath even.

Closer. Closer.

The door was right there.

You reached for the handle, twisting it so, so carefully. It didn’t make a sound.

Perfect.

And then, just like that—you were outside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and your shoulders relaxed.

You did it.

Niragi was still inside, completely unaware.

You’d be back before he even realized.

Or at least… you hoped.

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

(Side note: I’m actually kinda anxious and don’t always know how to answer to nice comments, but I see them all and I’m SO grateful!! Even if I don’t reply to some, thank you. I wish Tumblr had a Like option on comments so y’all would know that I see you and thank you😭😭 also tell me if I forgot to tag u, it wasn’t on purpose if that happened<3)

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[fuckitupfelix]

hello there, how are you doing?

I don't really know how to start a request since English isn't my first language, but could you write something with Kuroo tending to the reader's wounds after he gets into a fight? 🙏

By the way, thank God you write male reader, it's not so easy to find many in this app

hello anon im doing great !! thank you for the req and i agree i can barely ever find male reader fics sometimes 😔

STARTAFIGHT

kuroo tetsuro x male reader

wc: 1.8k

he's caught feelings for someone that thinks more with his fists than his head.

when kuroo gets your text that you need help, his first instinct is to panic. it isn't often that you reach out for support of any kind, let alone to him. hell, sometimes he thinks you genuinely do hate him. he shoves that little voice in the back of his head down. the heart wants what it wants, i guess...?

but he's quick to run over to your house, where he finds you standing out front. your hair's a mess, there's blood dripping from your nose, your knuckles are a mix of deep reds and muddy purples, and if he was being completely honest— as he always was— you looked like shit.

"hey." kuroo breathes out, trying to play off his quick arrival; as if he didn't sprint down six blocks to get there. he stands fully, clearing his throat and speaking again. "you need help." it wasn't a question; anyone with eyes could see that you had the crap beat out of you.

"you should see the other guy," you murmur, and there's the hint of a smile on your face. kuroo scoffs at that. of course you're acting normal. this is just an average tuesday for you.

"alright, idiot, c'mon," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "you're gonna get an infection— and don't pick at your scabs." he adds that last part with a swat of his hand, grabbing your wrist as you began to pick at the dried blood. he drags you to your house, taking the key from your hand and unlocking the door, pushing it open.

"are your parents home?" he asks, slipping his shoes off. you follow, tucking both pairs in the corner. he can't help but notice you wince when your knuckles brush against the wall.

"nah. they've got some work event, or something. they'll be out late." you scoff, shrugging your sweater off and hanging it up. before you can think of any other small talk to make to fill the silence, kuroo moves straight to your kitchen. you follow.

kuroo glances around and takes the view in. this is only the second time he's ever been to your house, and the last time was to return your kneepads you left at the gym. he spares you a glance, and you're already sat at a chair in the corner of the kitchen, eyebrows set back into their furrowed look. he clears his throat, and you get the hint, thankfully.

"uh, first aid kit's under the sink. left cupboard." you say. kuroo nods.

the next twenty minutes or so are spent in silence from the moment the cupboard is opened to when he presses the alcohol wipe to each of your knuckles. he can't help but frown when he hears you grit your teeth and hiss.

"sorry," is the only thing he can think to say. he wipes his now-sweaty palms on his pants and grabs the gauze. "so, can you debrief me really quickly on how this happened?" he asks, pressing a cotton pad onto one of your fingers.

you stare at him for a moment before speaking. "this guy was being an asshole," you state simply, like that was a valid explanation. kuroo sputters out a laugh at that, and your hand that's being wrapped balls into a fist. "what?"

"that's hardly an explanation!" he laughs. your shoulders loosen— you weren't even aware that you were so tense.

"right." you huff out.

"relax, i'm just curious. getting your ass beat isn't helpful when nationals are around the corner, is all," he chuckles. he's been finished with your hand for a while, but he doesn't let go of it, holding it gently.

"you're worried about me?" you scoff. you should feel offended, right? ignoring the small feeling of warmth in the back of your mind, you continue. "i'm not fragile. and besides, i don't go out looking for fights. not really. people start shit with me, kuroo."

kuroo hums at that. his fingers curl around your wrist, and you can feel his grip tighten slightly. instinctively, you jerk your hand away from his. part of you regrets that. he brushes it off, standing up finally.

"i know. but you're still only human. can't go losing our star player, can we?" kuroo drawls sarcastically, ruffling your hair. he purposefully ignores your glare. "right, well, i've pretty much finished. have you had dinner yet?"

"no? i came straight home." kuroo groans at that. you're an idiot. "if you're gonna fuck your body up, you might as well try and help it fix itself. i'll order pizza."

"you're staying?" you ask, standing up.

"do you want me to?"

to kuroo's surprise, there's no scoff or snarky response— you just nod. "yeah. that'd be nice." you say quietly. "we can wait in my room." you don't bother checking if he follows you; you can hear his footsteps behind you.

kuroo's not sure what he was expecting from your room, but somehow this wasn't it. it was very clean and proper, with a few movie posters up on the walls and some books stacked on your nightstand. your bedsheets were fuzzy and (fav.color), and you had a few stuffed animals nestled in the corner of your bed. you notice his expression and frown.

"what?" you snap. he blanches.

"nothing, nothing! i just wasn't expecting your room to be so... cute." he says, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. 'is he being for real?!' you think incredulously.

"it's.. cute? did you expect there to be blood on my walls?" you scoff, crossing your arms.

"well..." he trails off. he barks out a laugh at your scowl. "joking! but this definitely wasn't the room i was expecting for the [name] i know." he grabs one of the stuffed animals from the other end of your bed; a brown puppy.

"..so are you gonna order that pizza?" you ask after a while, and kuroo's eyes snap up to your face. shit. how long was he staring at your plushie for? he probably looks like a creep.

"yeah, yeah. you're fine with just cheese, right?" he asks, pulling his phone out.

by the time the pizza gets to your house, the sun has set and the two of you sat on your floor in the dark, watching a ghibli movie on your laptop. kuroo chances a glance over at you, and he's enamoured by the sight; your knees are pulled up to your chest, that same dog stuffie in your lap, and your eyes are glued to the screen. you seem a lot less scarier than how you normally present yourself. it was adorable.

you're hardly aware that kuroo wasn't focused on the movie, your attention only being broken by the doorbell ringing. "oh. pizza's here." you lean over to pause the movie, but kuroo stands up.

"keep watching. i'll grab it." he says, stepping out before you can protest. he returns a few minutes later with the pizza box in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. you finally pause the movie, and he flicks the lights on.

"what's in the bag?" you ask as kuroo sits back down next to you. he sets the box down, and pulls out two cans of soda from the bag, holding one out to you.

you take it, cracking it open immediately and taking a long sip. "god, that's refreshing," you sigh, slumping back against the side of the bed.

the both of you were too lazy to grab plates, so you just ate out of the box, letting the movie continue to play as you ate. it was so odd, you thought, that kuroo was even still here. he patched you up and bought you food. hell, you weren't even sure that he was going to come when you texted him; it's not like you two were particularly close.

'but he came anyways,' you remind yourself, taking another bite of your pizza. "thanks, kuroo," you say, and he turns to look at you properly. "for helping me. and buying me dinner. and staying here, i guess." did you always sound this stupid?

"of course, [name]. don't mention it." he grins, ruffling your hair again, earning a groan from you. "i'm glad you reached out at all."

after smoothing down your hair from kuroo's assault on your head, you give him a confused look. "why wouldn't i? you're team captain. i trust you." and for some reason, that hit him hard.

does he actually say anything? fuck no! he just laughs it off, saying something about how he's just "doing his job". but he can't help the feeling that's gnawing at him. he should say something. he really should. 'fuck it.'

"also, [name]," he starts, scooting closer to you and resting his arm above you on the bed. "i've got something to confess," he looks down at you, waiting; waiting for you to cringe at the proximity, to shove him away, to ignore him, anything. but you don't move.

"okay? if it's some weird bullshit, man, i swear," you start, and he cuts you off with his cackle. for such a tough guy, you were so oblivious. he decides to test the waters, letting his arm drop down to your shoulder. that earns him a sideways glance, your eyebrows furrowing.

"it's not, i promise. come on, you just said you trusted me," he snorts.

"wh— yeah. sure, what is it?"

"i want to go out with you." he hums, tilting his head.

oh.

"what the fuck?"

that was not the answer he was looking for. he stiffens up, slowly pulling his arm away from you. "i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, [name]—"

"no—! no, fuck, sorry. i just wasn't expecting that," you cut him off, cringing at yourself. "but are you being serious right now? cause if you're fucking with me right now—"

"i'm not! seriously, [name], d'you think i'm that much of an ass?" he scoffs.

"..yeah?"

"WHAT??"

"shut up! you're always screwing around with everyone. i can never tell when you're being genuine," you mutter, crossing your arms. kuroo sighs, leaning closer to you again.

"well, i'm being dead serious right now. i like you. go out with me sometime, as a date. please." he hums, his eyes glued to your face. he sounded so sincere— so genuine— you start to feel warm.

you open and close your mouth a couple times, trying to formulate the right words, but you keep coming up blank. "yes. yeah. i'd—" you groan, rubbing a hand over your face, and for a moment he thinks you're regretting this—

"yeah. i'd love to go out with you." you sigh, an actual smile on your face. you lean closer to him, and he thinks you're going to kiss him. instead, you punch his shoulder. "but this? this isn't a date, just to clarify. i deserve something proper."

god, you're going to be the death of him. but it's so worth it.

i was not supposed to write allat but oh well :p hope you liked it!!

[rsventhesecondd]

midnight rant,

╰ • → Featuring . Hayato Suo as your boyfriend ! ╯

sypnosis . whereas— you're an overthinker, desperately trying to save your friend group that is falling apart. You find no way to cope, but luckily your boyfriend, Suo is here for you. :3 , Hayato Suo x f!reader 

warnings . light cursing, mentions of mental health issues, abandonment issues, angst, self-vent, skin picking , fluff

note ⧽some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't my first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. Based off real life experiences

authors note . hi! this is for all those people that overthink a lot specially when it comes to relationships. I didn't really explain more, it has so much lore potential too.. It's not really more of a you getting comforted once you read it, but rather it's a you being in the same situation again, but not being alone. I really wanted to write Suo, but I didn't know how. Anyways, this might be a subtle vent, foreshadow :3

—

You sat down the bench just a few steps far from Furin Highschool, your eyes welling up– unable to hold tears. You should've been home, if not for that argument you had with your  bestfriend. 

It was your mistake, it was your issue, you're the problem. Was what kept on replying all over your head like Broken record. What was is the cause of this scenario? let us go back. 

You lashed out, unable to control your feelings any longer. What was once joyful and full of glee, was now full of trepidation and gloom. Your two  close friends, somehow, two of your only close friends that you consider as close ones are starting to drift apart. You couldn't really blame them. You rarely meet, nor called. Rarely chatted, hell– whens the last time you guys ever talked about your own lives? They were all too busy with their places to be, and you were too. Not that you  didn't have any other people to interact with. But somehow, some part of you is missing the times where you three were happy, talking about this– your new crushes, how your lives has been going, laughing over stupid things, ranting about this and that about how annoying they were knowing damn well you were annoying too. But you couldn't care less, because at that time, you felt safe. It was as if a safe zone, your safe zone. But then things started to fall apart, barely chatting, updating, and the other more— you tried. You tried to replicate the same energy you've had before, you tried to bring back the joyous and gleefulness of memories that you've remember. Now realizing that it has only turned into a mysterious enigma written in the ink of stardust on the back of your brain. You were hysterical. How could such strong bond just fade away ever so quickly? The promises and plans made, are now starting to fade. 

Those tears welling up in your eyes not holding up any longer, flowing as they stream down your cheeks. You wipe them away with your sleeves, hoping the flow water from your eyes stop as you let out a sniffle. 

"[name]?" a familiar voice questions, causing you to instinctively turn your head away from where the noise came from. You begged to the gods that this was just a dream, hoping you were hallucinating. You were in such  disgraceful state, you don't need another problem to participate.  There you were on the bench, closing your eyes shut as you continuously picked on your skin, hoping that the man of that voice disappears into thin air. 

"[name], dear.. what happened?" the same voice from before said, inching closer. You open your eyes to see Suo with a worried expression. You quickly wipe your tears once more, using your tear stained sleeve, trying to utter out words, but it seems as if you couldn't speak. "Shh.. It's okay, my love." Suo says, sitting down beside you, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know, your skin will be irritated if you wipe your tears like that" he says in a gentle, but slight tease of a tone. He faces you, cupping your chin as he wipes your tears away with a handkerchief. As much as you wanted to push, maybe– shove him away even, you found yourself calming down from his actions. You wanted to go away as far as you could, you wanted to bury yourself deep underground. You've never shown him this side of you, and it terrified you. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" he says with a smile, it's as if it wasn't even a question, rather a clarification. You take a deep breath and sighed, "It's just, my friend has been seeing this person lately, well, used to. And they've been ranting about how this person they're seeing is 'cheating' , only going to them when they need something, and other more stuff. It just pissed me off. My friend deserves more than that, and it got to me. I attacked their ex in spite, saying shit I didn't even know I would. And.. I know it's my fault, I wasn't in the right place to do that. And I apologized, I felt bad, I swear, I really did." you say, unbeknownst to you that tears are flowing down your eyes, fingers picking on your skin. Suo, nodding silently, his hand creeping up to yours, holding them– as a way to prevent you from picking on your skin. "But, I'm.. scared. I know we all make mistakes, and I know my friend is a good person and that they do forgive me. But I'm scared. I'm scared that it'll fall apart, I'm scared that they'll leave me– I'm scared that I caused a problem, that I break something again" you say, breath hitching as you tighten your grip on his hand.  "I contacted my other friend Kotoha, who I was closer with. We three were really close, and I know them a lot. Even though they don't realize it, I always observe how they react to different stuff. And, Kotoha was friends with the person I fought.  I reached out to them, after the argument, and apologizing to my other friend because of the situation I've created, and after awhile Kotoha never replied even though they were online. And, I can't judge them, they might've not seen it, and they've been there for me a lot too. But I just can't help but overthink at the most little things, and I hate it. I hate it so much, I–"  you stammer, cut off by a light kiss on the lips. "I understand." Suo says, wrapping his arm around your back, his hand pushed you ever so slightly to his chest– pulling you into a hug. "You can't really force someone into a relationship, [name]. Platonic or not, if the relationship is not working and there is no solution, best leave things be" , he says, patting your head. "If the friendship wasn't it, then it's all part of the plan of fate. Mistakes are normal, [name]. And if they truly are friends, people you consider you can trust the most then.. , they will accept you for who you are. Your flaws, mistakes, but that doesn't mean they'll tolerate it. If the gods have decided that friendship truly is not meant for you three, then let it be and accept things for what they already are. Yes, it'll be hard, but I'll be here with you. I'll accept you for who you are, flaws, and secrets kept. I'll be with you when you need me, and when you're alone. I'll accept you with my all of my heart. Just like you did with me" he added, moving his hand to pat your back soothingly. This time, you weren't crying from sadness, or terror. You were crying tears of glee. 

"Let's buy ice cream? My treat of course." Suo says, standing up– reaching his hand out to you, the other behind his back as usual. "Really?" you exclaim, eyes brightening up as you let out a sniffle, him nodding in response.  "And let's put some cream on your hands after wards, get you fixed up" he added.

"Okay! I love you!" You said in your same bubbly mood, almost forgetting the events of today. 

"I love you too, my dove" he says in a soft tone, giving you a look of love. 

note . this had so much lore potential. I'm gonna rewrite this whole, trust.

[yoyomomiko]

THANKYOUSO MUCH for being one of the very few mouthwashing users who write for anya… !!!!!! im a major major girlkisser and i don’t see a lot of people write for her 😔😔like… please i jus wanna stare at her all day and kiss her hold her hand n stuff… compliment her all day DO U GET ME!!!

anyway thankyew im eating up ur works as we speak ☝️

Pairings: Anya x F!reader

HC: showing affection with anya!!

Warnings: cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): OMG OMG YESSSS, I've barely seen any people write for her😔😔😔 I'LL TRY TO DO SOME OF US JUSTICE THO!! This is also kinda short and so boring😣 -> m.list

★RECEIVING FROM YOU

God she's so embarrassed

IF IT'S IN FRONT OF THE CREW THO, because if you're alone she's ALLLLL over you

I feel like Anya isn't a big fan of showing affection in public, so she doesn't really like it when you do any of that in front of others😔

When you're alone with her?

Phew

HOLD HER. KISS HER. CUDDLE WITH HER. HUG HER. COMPLIMENT HER. OH LORD JUST UGHHHH

I feel like she prefers it when you cuddle up with her and stroke her hair. She feels so cared for and so loved, so safe, she never wants to let go.

She doesn't care if you like words of affirmation more than physical affection, she's okay with both as long as nobody sees you😋👍

Hold. Her. Hand.

She likes it so much when you just clasp your hands together, it feels so intimate for her and it's just so UGH.

If you're a VERY like, clingy and affectionate person or whatever, she's gonna be a bit flustered and overwhelmed at first.

But then she gets used to it and loves it when you just throw all your love onto her😚

She's a major girlkisser too idc what you say

I'm only saying that because I like her but uhm🙄

Anyways

She also prefers you to be the one who showers her with love, she just likes being taken care of

★RECEIVING FROM HER

Anya sometimes surprises you with how much she does for you

She prefers physical affection rather than words of affirmation, she's too shy to speak her heart out.

At least at the start of the relationship, because later she's not gonna have ONE problem being just, so romantic with you to the point YOU blush.

She likes kissing you so much, I'm not even kidding

I feel like she likes it more when she's the one kissing you, like, as in a peck on the cheek or something

Also, she WILL give you a good morning AND good night kiss.

Scratch that, she'll kiss you any chance she gets😌

Big on hugs

Giving you hugs to be more specific

She loves loves LOVES comforting you, she's just so good at it

Surprisingly good at making you feel safe in her arms, genuinely has you questioning a lot

If you're on the Tulpar with her, she sadly won't even hold your hand in front of others😔

I also feel like she just gets these random bursts of confidence during her breaks, hunts you down and slams you against the wall to make out with you

But after she apologizes for being so harsh and blunt with you

I mean, honey, I do NOT mind.

Please proceed

Anywayssss

She's a little shy when it comes to compliments, but like I said, she just needs some time to get used to all that and open up more

ANYA ONE CHANCE PLEASEEEEE🙏

★yoyomiko ★miko

[vanillinwrites]

In Your Skin - yandere! feitan x reader

summary: Feitan carving his initials into darling

warnings: violence against reader, implied past abuse

taglist: @rotten-pomegranate on Tumblr

---------------------------------------------------------

Over time- weeks and weeks spent under his watchful eye- all the fight you once had in you has been worn away. By now all you can do is try to read his expressions and guess his mood and try to be good. You do your best to do whatever he says, but the truth is that by the time he has to tell you, you’re already too late to avoid his anger. You do your best to do what he wants- wear the clothes he likes, partake in hobbies he seems to like seeing you engage in, talk about the things he likes to talk about; there isn't much he likes to talk about, but you try. It's never enough.

You look over at him, sitting alone reading a book in a language you don't know. His face is hard to read, especially at such a glance, but he looks almost cute- it’s strange to think of him as attractive, but that’s the truth; to you, he’s cute, handsome even. Should you feel disgusted for thinking that? Ashamed? Embarrassed? You’re not sure. You don't even know what he would think if you told him- but you do know that his face wouldn't betray any emotion, and he’d find a way to make you regret saying it. 

When he looks at you, you look away fast. You hear the book snap shut and you know you're in trouble. Was it looking at him that made him mad? Or looking away?

"Come here," he calls, and you hurry to obey- whatever he had in mind, you knew hesitating would only make it worse. You come to stand in front of him, eyes fixated on his shoes because you don't dare to look up at him. If you looked at him, what would you see? Not knowing what expression he wears sends terror straight through you. The thought of what expression he wears as you cower is ever worse. You can feel his eyes boring through you. “What you were looking at?” he asks in that signature slightly broken english. 

You don't know what to say, “nothing, i uh, wasn't really looking at anything.” 

He moves to get down from where he’s sat, grabbing you by the wrist. “Liar.” he hisses. You don't say anything as he pulls you from where you were standing towards the basement. You know you said the wrong thing, you always do, and now you have to pay for it. 

Once you’re at the bottom of the stairs he pushes you towards the little operating table at the center of the room, one you’re familiar with by now. The first few times you’d thrashed and kicked and screamed for him to let you go. Now, you don't say anything at all, stumbling to the table and feeling tears sting at your eyes from the horror of your situation. How many times could you mess up before he killed you? You must be on thin ice by now. Was this it? Would you even care if it was? 

He straps you down to the table, fingers tracing over the skin of your wrists and ankles as he secures the leather straps. It’s almost gentle, almost a lovers caress. You watch him look at you, head slightly tilted but face unreadable. He speaks first, “you were staring.” Was that what this was about? That you had been staring at him in the living room earlier. “Then you lied.” 

You can't stop crying, the various tools hung up on the walls glare down at you- and you remember some of them, the way they had felt, the way they had pierced your skin and the way they had made you scream in pain. You nod your head anyways. “I’m sorry.” 

He frowns, looking down at you like you’re not making sense, “don't be.” 

He picks up a clean little blade- so clean it gleamed in the light, with such a sharp and smooth edge that you imagined you’d barely feel it. It's a stark contrast to the other weapons down here- all dirty and jagged, all perfectly crafted to inflict as much harm as possible. This little weapon isn't like that at all- you find the mind to wonder if it’s new, even. 

Then he turns back to you, his face is unreadable, but his body language is a little off. Normally, when he brings you down here and straps you to the table, he’s angry. Even if he doesn’t tell you or show it, you can always tell he’s angry at you. But not right now. 

He traces his free hand from your cheek to your collarbone, peeking out from the collar of your clothes. His fingers are cold, tracing over you in a nearly gentle manner. You try not to shiver. The sound of your clothes being ripped apart by the clean little knife starles you from your spell. He only cuts through the collar of your shirt, only exposing a few extra inches of skin, from your collarbone to the top of your breasts. 

Your breathing begins to speed up, a new kind of panic setting in. Feitan had done a lot to you in your time here, but his touch had always remained tactile, like he didn't really feel one way or another about touching you. You should have known when his fingers brushed over your cheek that this was different. Of course you’d considered the possibility- that he’d brought you here for something more than killing you- but as time had worn on, that fear has started to subside. 

You don't have time to dwell on the details of what he was about to do, or why, when he brings the blade to your skin. Of course, struggle is impossible with you bound so tight, but you have to try, don't you? You try to kick your feet, try to move your hands, try to scream. 

Through tears you can make out his face, he’s lowered the cowl he wears enough for you to see what expression he wears- and though he hides it well, there’s some demented sort of smile tugging at his lips, though he seems to try to hide it. 

When he allows you up from the table, you realize that you haven't been there for very long. You also notice that he’s left you completely unmarred besides the area below your clavicle- which feels mangled, burns and bleeds, and you don't dare raise your hand to test the skin there. 

He picks something up off of a nearby table, holding it out to you- it’s a hand mirror. You can hardly lift your arms to take it from him, too afraid of what you’ll find etched into your skin. He’d never bothered to show off his work before, confident you would see it next time you showered or looked in the bathroom mirror. But he wants to see your reaction to this one. You hold up the mirror to look at what he’d written into your skin. 

FEITAN. Written in capital letters, weeping blood, etched deep enough into your skin you know it’ll leave deep angry scars. 

Your eyes dart to the man standing in front of you, and you're shocked to find him closer to you than he had been before, inches from you, lips wrapped into a smile so twisted and cruel it makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re mine.” 

[qin-qin16]

cw.: Murder x Reader, Murder speaks in korean, fluff, almost non-verbal Murder (again), yeah, Reader is part of the Bad Guys, Reader is sick in this, Murder cares about Reader? And like, a lot??

note: I don’t speak korean, everything that is in korean here I translated from english to korean in google translate. Also, for my bestie @what-have-i-unleashed, I’m feeding you with Murder content.

You could no longer tell whether the pain in your throat was due to the flu or simply from your incessant coughing. Ever since you had passed out in the dining room, Nightmare had excused you from any work activities — which, on one hand, was a relief. Any movement now brought a terrible burning sensation to your muscles, and you were beginning to wonder if your fever, which continued to rise, was causing hallucinations.

Like now.

Since your dismissal, the others had regularly checked on you, each more clumsy than the last. However, recently, only Murder had been visiting, and these visits were so unusual that you began to question whether they were real or not.

As on other days, you remained under the covers, despite your constant movement as you struggled to endure the numbness and pain in your body. The faint light illuminating your room came from a small gap in the curtains, but the dimness suggested that it was already getting dark.

Your eyelids fluttered slightly and reluctantly opened when Murder's cold phalanges touched your forehead. Was he taking your temperature? 

You let out a grunt of relief when his fingers withdrew away, but then you shivered as he placed a wet towel on your face, wiping away the sweat before settling it on your forehead.

“Why are you torturing me like this?” you mumbled, though you doubted he heard you given how quietly you spoke. As usual, he didn’t respond, remaining silent as he sat on the edge of the bed, careful to not sit on you.

Your eyes, barely open, tried to follow his slow movements. Yet, everything appeared as a dark blur, punctuated only by the faint outline of his red scarf.

As always, you couldn’t see his face under the hood, which also concealed much of a cap. You tried to speak, but only some indecipherable, suffering grunts came out. Then, suddenly, something cold brushed against your lips, gently probing your mouth.

“그것을 마셔요*.” You never understood when he spoke another language (korean, according to Nightmare), but his simple and firm tone was enough to make you, with much force, focus on what he wanted.

Your eyes finally focused on the thing that was poking your lips, and you realized it was a small metal spoon, guided by Murder's gloved hand.

He tilted the spoon towards your mouth again, likely expecting you to take whatever was on it - despite the horrible smell that made your face contort. 

You weren’t sure if it was coming from the spoon or Murder's dirty glove.

You didn’t have much choice but to comply, allowing the spoon to slip between your lips. Your tongue almost pushed it out as a bitter liquid spread through your mouth, leaving an unpleasant taste everywhere.

Murder chuckled softly, likely amused by the expression on your face - probably wrinkled and disgusted.

“It’s not funny…” you mumbled, closing your eyes again, feeling worn out.

While your taste buds were still recoiling from the bitter liquid, you felt something gently brush over your head, caressing your hair before moving down to your cheek. With half lidded eyes, you saw that it was one of Murder’s hands, resting delicately on your face.

The glove provided a certain comfort against your warm face, and you couldn’t resist leaning your head closer to it, sighing tiredly.

He chuckled again before gently guiding your head back onto the pillow, returning you to your previous resting position. “착한 여자,” he said, his tone different from before — whispered and sweet, coming from within that dark hood.

You didn’t understand what he had said, again, but his tone alone was enough to bring a small smile to your face. That smile quickly faded away when Murder gave your cheek a friendly pinch, laughing once more at your reaction.

You had no choice but to accept these unusual gestures of affection. In a way, they served as a reminder that, despite everything, his presence was not a hallucination brought on by your fever; quite the opposite. 

The burning sensation on your cheek would be proof that Murder had been there during your recovery, watching over you just as he had always done from the shadows.

그것을 마셔요* = Drink it.

착한 여자** = Good girl. 

[floatingaimlessly333]

>:)

Teen!Simon getting teased teen!Roba + gang at his new school and Johnny stands up for him, shouting at Roba in Gaelic

It was always the same shit. Didn't matter where, didn't matter when, didn't matter who. It was always the same shit.

Simon Riley was destined to be ridiculed and tormented wherever he went, so it was damn stupid of him to think switching schools would change that. It was only a week into the new term, and he had already become the target of another group of arseholes who thought they were better than him. The boys at the group home, his shitty excuse for a father, and now his newest torturer, Manuel Roba; it was like each of them could sense that he was weak, that he was lesser.

Simon had been trying so fucking hard to just ignore Roba and his lackeys. He's sure Nik and Price would be pissed if he got into a fight before they even hit the two week mark, but he couldn't stand it anymore. Every single second he wasn't in a classroom, he had to face jeers and insults and grabs for his mask. He was constantly on the edge of snapping, and he felt powerless to stop what seemed so inevitable at this point.

His only saving grace was Johnny.

Whenever he was able to find a moment of peace amidst all of the chaos, Johnny was right there beside him. But today, he was nowhere in sight. Simon had even gone so far as to actively search for the older boy, but he wasn't in his usual spots. The only thing his hunt did was land him right in the middle of Roba's warpath.

"Where have you been, English? It's almost like you've been avoiding me. Why would you do that, perro cachorro?" Simon could barely suppress a growl at hearing the other boy's taunts. He knew that would just bring on more dog comparisons.

"Roba-"

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say speak. Did you forget your commands already? Don't worry, perrito, I'm a very patient trainer."

This is exactly what Simon had been trying to avoid. He knew lashing out wouldn't do him any good, in the long run. It wouldn't stop the bullying. And then all his new teachers would know just how much trouble he was. But he couldn't fucking take it anymore.

He was preparing himself to throw the first punch when he heard footsteps hurrying towards them down the hallway.

"Och, ye fuckin' bawbags! Leave 'im the fuck alone!!" The accent alone clued Simon into the identity of his savior, and he looked up to see his knight in shining footie gear. Honestly, Johnny looked sort of like an angry porcupine at the moment, with sweat making his mohawk look even wilder than usual.

"This isn't your fight, Mactavish. Leave English and I to our little chat."

"Chattin' ma arse. Piss. Off."

Simon had been so busy watching Johnny that he hadn't noticed Roba steadily getting closer until the shorter boy grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie.

"We were just teasing him, hombre. You were having fun, weren't you, English?" Roba gave Simon a firm shake, causing him to hit the set of lockers behind him.

Once again, Simon didn't have time to speak before Johnny was jumping in to save his arse. The angry Scott rammed full speed into Roba, spending the bully careening backwards into his little gang of dickheads.

"Ah said FUCK OFF, YE SACK OF DICKS!!! Na bean ris a-rithist!!! No gearraidh mi dhiot do làmhan! And then I'll shove them up yer flabby arse!!"

Even as Roba and his crew made their slow retreat down the hall, Johnny continued shouting at them in a language Simon couldn't understand. He didn't stop until the other boys were fully out of sight, and even then he let loose a few more words that Si was sure must've been curses.

"If ah dinnae have a football game on Friday, ah would've kicked his arse for ye." He spun around to give Simon a once-over, making sure he wasn't hurt. Satisfied that the other boy was as okay as he could be, he extended his hand towards him. "Well, ahm bloody starving. Wannae go get lunch?"

Speechless, and with a raging blush creeping across his face, Simon took Johnny's hand. And suddenly, all thoughts of Roba and his goons left his mind. He had much better things to focus on at the moment.

Uh oh, this once again came out way longer than expected. >:)

Warning, I speak neither Spanish nor Gaelic, so these translations might not be accurate.

Spanish: perro cachorro=puppy dog; perrito=puppy

Gaelic: Na bean ris a-rithist=Do not touch him again; No gearraidh mi dhiot do làmhan= Or I will cut your hands off

[theemporium]

is it fluff? I don't know?

but charles and r where charles is like "what happened pour moi?"

and r is like "oui, so i had a little too much café on an empty túmmy, so i had a - how do you say - panique attaque."

(tbf I don't know where the monologue is from? I found it on a generator for funny dialogue)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

When you first started dating Charles, you made a point of wanting to learn his native language.

The only issue was that you would quickly come to realise you were absolutely shit at learning a new language. It didn’t matter if you went to classes, downloaded Duolingo or even bought those little guides with simple and well-used phrases, it just didn’t seem to click to you as easily as it did with others.

But you were still so determined to learn, and it warmed Charles’ heart.

You wanted to be able to talk to him in his mother tongue because it was a beautiful language and you would love to understand what he said when he spoke it. You wanted to be able to talk to his family when they make such an effort to talk to you in English. And even if it was maybe too soon to think about such, you knew you wanted your children to be able to speak their father’s language too. 

You were determined, so you made a deal with Charles. 

You had your French days.

These would be days where you would wake up and set the goal of speaking French all day, or as much as you could. Charles would only talk to you in French, and he would be there to help you with any words and phrases you didn’t know. It was supposed to be a simple exercise that helped you immerse yourself in the language and push your boundaries to help further your knowledge. 

It would just be random days where you would turn to Charles in the morning and inform him of as much, just stating ‘it’s a French day’ before going on with your morning routine.

Today was one of those days. 

Except, when you had woken up with a pit in your stomach, you chose to ignore it. You had days where you woke up feeling a little fuzzy, a little on edge, a little anxious. You tried to have more relaxed itineraries on those days if you could, and that was exactly what you should have done today. But for some stupid reason, you thought you could push through it.

However, pushing through it meant that you were barely unable to stomach any food, let alone have the appetite to eat. It meant that you were constantly feeling as though you were about to tip over the edge. And it meant you should have stayed far, far away from coffee when your heart was already about to beat out of your chest. 

But Charles had brought you a coffee back after his morning run, and you didn’t have the heart to say anything.

And first, it just felt like palpitations. You thought it would come and pass, and you’d be in the clear to just take a chill day. 

But your heart was only speeding up, and the nausea was undeniable. Your chest felt tight with panic as you pressed the heel of your palm against your chest, hoping it would do something to ease the feeling but it didn’t.

Your breathing became erratic and shaky, your whole body felt like it was vibrating and you were pretty sure your head was underwater with how muffled your hearing was.

And your poor boyfriend was absolutely baffled. 

“Amour? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

You let out some choked noise, your brain feeling far too fuzzy to even try muttering up a response to Charles, let alone in French.

“Amour? Baby? Are you okay? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” His words became more frantic as he quickly made his way over to you, his hands on your shoulder as he tried to catch your gaze. 

“I—” You let out a slightly garbled noise before giving him a sheepish smile. It was stupid to try and continue the French day tradition, but even in your state, you tried. Even if your attempt was just speaking mostly in English with a botched French accent. “I am having—uh, une panique attaque!”

Charles’ eyes widened comically large. “I—fuck the French!” 

Your smile was shaky. “I already kinda do.”

His lips parted in surprise before he quickly shook his head. “Baby, no, let’s…just…sit down, please. I’m going to get you water. And something to eat. You’ve hardly touched any of the pastries I brought.”

You listened to his demands, taking a seat on the plush living room couch as your boyfriend ran around like a madman to get anything that would make you feel better.

It wasn’t until over an hour later after you had drank what felt like all the water in the Monaco Pier and consumed enough croissants for a lifetime where you finally felt the tight feeling in your chest ease and your heart rate drop to a normal level. You were still on the couch, now cuddled with your back pressed against his chest as he held you tightly.

“I’m sorry for ruining French day,” you murmured to your boyfriend.

Charles only scoffed. “Baby, please. Your health is more important than French day.”

You paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m also sorry for basically calling you French.”

“Yeah, that I’m not forgiving,” Charles grumbled, but you could hear the smile on his face even if you couldn’t see it. “I think it counts as a hate crime.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are théâtral.” 

Charles grinned as he pecked your cheek. “Good word, baby, where did you learn that one?”

“Arthur.” 

“Fucking Arthur.”

.

[rztaros]

: love 2 hate me

synopsis. oh, how you hated the ares’ daughter so bad, you wish you could never see her again. though, it seems as you encounter her more and more, you begin to see her in a different light. pairing. clarisse la rue x hades daughter!reader genre. fluff wc. 4k+ in queue. bags by clairo, hydrangea love by tomorrow x together, but not kiss by faye webster, && snooze by sza . . . 💿 notes. 💬 lowercase intended, maybeee ooc clarisse idk, and reader is close friends w percy

how to help the palestinians. brands to boycott support the people of palestine w/ shams akel moveon petition to pres. biden donate esims to gaza

there are around 170,000 words in the english language, yet you were unable to string any of them together to express how much you wished you could never see clarisse la rue ever again. you wished you could just hit her with a chair, and hopefully splitting her head open. there was never once a moment where she was not difficult.

everything clarisse could do, you could do better—well, that was what you thought at least.

of course, you despised her, and she despised you.

clarisse, most of the time, enjoyed the competition and the rush she received whenever you and her were contended against each other. she even liked the look on your face every time you lost to her and the pride that'd engulf her.

that unbearable grin, along with her vicious, boisterous laugh she'd hold every time you lost to her. often, your facial expression garnered a snicker from her, one that replayed over and over again in your poor head.

there was barely a chance you'd ever have to work with clarisse, let alone have to talk to her, you thought. however, you were proven wrong, very wrong.

"can you stop speakin' just for one minute? you're giving me a headache, gosh," you'd groan, gradually losing focus on the primary task. rolling your eyes, you'd shoot a sharp glare at the ares' daughter, your face not indicating any kind of amusement.

she'd scoff, taking a step closer to you, her eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips. her gaze, piercing and intense as ever, bored into yours. it was as if her gaze was a magnetic force, luring you in.

for a moment, it'd seem you'd see clarisse in a different light. as much as you hated to admit it, she was attractive. her eyes held a devilish stare that you could get lost in.

clarisse seemed like some sort of corrupted angel, almost supernaturally beautiful, and she was unnervingly unforgettable.

the task you were once immersed in, was now long forgotten as you'd roll your eyes once again. cursing her over and over again inside your head, you'd try to bring your attention back to the task. who knew you would be paired up with clarisse, the absolute bane of your existence?

"you don't have to pretend you hate me so much, sweetheart," clarisse drawled, her eyes just as stunning as she was, "c'mon, just admit it," a sharp, vicious chuckle escaped her. what irked you most wasn't clarisse herself, no—it was her knowledge of you. it was like she knew you were never one to back down from a challenge, more so, if it meant you'd beat clarisse la rue.

clarisse, who you have barely ever started a "regular," friendly conversation with, somehow managed to wring out every drop of patience inside you. "gods, you're just as weak as i thought you were, y/n," she'd tease, flashing a faint, sleazy grin at you, and in contrast to her grin, you'd scowl at her gestures.

sighing, you'd try to avoid clarisse's actions, your eyes flickering to the fields, far from the two of you. as you looked out afar, noticing a figure who seemed to be a guy, clarisse would speak up, snapping you out of your trance, "stop lookin' at that guy, and pay attention, jeez," she'd murmur. her voice was distinct from the rest of the times she spoke to you—she sounded vulnerable, weak even.

"what, you jealous, la rue?" you'd retaliate, now having that same grin clarisse once wore. you'd snicker, clearly amused by the girl's gestures.

you'd notice clarisse's eyes widen, just for a small moment, as if she had something to hide. she'd quickly become defensive, snickering, "what would i even be jealous of? the amount of times you've lost to me? yeah, for sure," clarisse would argue.

just nodding at her defensiveness, you'd dismiss the situation—maybe you were just reading into things too much. though, her shift in demeanor was drastic. nonetheless, you'd just ignore it.

there was an unexplainable feeling clarisse experienced as she stared at your figure, her gaze deep. as much as she thought you were infuriating, you were irresistible, even for her. she knew as much as you were different from the rest—never backing down from a challenge when it involved her— she won't think about you at all, she wouldn't allow herself too.

as you two trailed down the fields, you'd pull clarisse to a spot crowded with flowers. "get me a few flowers," you'd murmur blandly, crouching down to admire the rows of hydrangeas. your eye would glisten at the sight of the prosperous, radiant petals.

clarisse scoffed at your demanding tone, "flowers?" she questions, eyebrows furrowed and knitted together. "never thought you out of all people liked flowers."

the nerve of this girl, you thought, your face morphing into one of judgement, "what do you even know about me, la rue?" you'd tut, watching the ends of clarisse's mouth quirking up, forming a gleaming grin—one you wish you could just get rid of and never see again.

her gaze would fixate on the flowers, and, she'd huff, begrudgingly crouching down besides you. her face was excruciatingly close to yours, inching closer by the second. her sinfully intoxicating aura encases you, "calm down, jeez, sweetheart," the nickname rolled off of her tongue smoothly.

your palms push against her chest, eyes darting everywhere but clarisse's unbearable grin, "just get me the damn flowers," you'd mutter, stepping back as you realized the proximity between you two. she'd chuckle softly at your embarrassed state, shifting her focus back to the flowers.

as you observed them silently, so did clarisse, her gaze never leaving the hydrangeas. clarisse would bring her hands to a selection of hydrangeas that were about to bloom, and trying to be as tender as she could, she'd pluck them.

clarisse would shove the flowers into your arms, rolling her eyes, "happy now?" she'd question as she looked in your eyes for any signs of content—not that she wanted your validation in the first place.

you'd let out a giggle, beaming an animated smile, gazing at the hydrangeas adoringly, "very much so."

"you ever gonna pay me back?" clarisse would question, wiping the dirt off of her hands, and stuffing them into her pockets.

there it was again, a moment where clarisse was somehow unable to shut up.

"already askin' me on a second date? how romantic, la rue," you'd bite back, rolling your eyes.

clarisse would swivel her body towards yours, "oh, don't be so conceited," she'd remark. you'd mumble a curse under your breath, getting up from the ground, and quickening your step.

as soon as you were out of view from the ares' daughter, the expression on your face loosens, now holding a smile you fought back when you were with clarisse. how could clarisse, out of all people, make you smile and feel as if a weight shifted off of your chest?

that awfully interesting girl sure made your heart tremble at just the thought of her.

"next week, same time," clarisse would shout from afar at your disappearing figure, a wide grin plastered on her face. it felt like a whole new sensation for her; to want to see you again, and even more, even though you've just left.

while at the dinner pavilion, you'd converse with percy, dissolving into giggles and laughter. you'd take a bite out of your meal every once in a while, too immersed in percy's stories.

whenever you hung out with percy, it felt like a breeze; you two were able to connect with each other, and understand each other while both being forbidden children. he acted like a little brother to you, and you didn't mind at all.

afar, a not-so-exhiliterated girl stared into the oblivion, her jaw clenched—that girl was clarisse, of course. just the sight of you and percy together made her mouth run dry.

leaning against a pillar, clarisse would roll her eyes at the two of you. she wished she wouldn't have to listen to you and percy laughing loudly. clarisse would cross her arms, a few of her siblings besides her chatting about who-knows-what.

there was no way you were laughing at percy's jokes, clarisse thought. she didn't think he was that funny, so why were you practically hyperventilating as you laughed at his jokes?

soon, one of her siblings would notice, "what's got you so upset? you can't even stand y/n, let alone talk to her."

"because they're so fuckin' loud—she was laughing so loudly, i mean what could he have said that made her clutch her sides like that!" clarisse would blurt out, her eyes narrowing as she'd try to catch a better glimpse of you and percy.

as you got up, going to get a refill of water, you'd pass by a solemn, stoic clarisse. she'd stare at you in silence, almost as if the world only revolved around the two of you. her eyes were hooded, scanning your facial expression for any indications.

just as you were about to round the corner, the daughter of ares' would obstruct the pathway, her arms crossed and her thumbs pointing upward.

"get out of my way, la rue," you'd mutter, sending a glare at clarisse.

a chuckle would escape from clarisse, as if everything was a game to her. "calm down, pretty girl, no need to be so cruel," she'd remark, her grin wide.

you'd stare at clarisse for a moment before looking away, pressing your lips together. "don't bullshit with me, clarisse," you'd retort, your tone as sharp as ever.

clarisse's eyes were etched on your lips, a broad, lingering smile on her face. "relax, i was just gonna ask if you're still up for this week." she'd chuckle, noticing your tense demeanor. "i would've already told you if i wasn't going, so move out of my way," you'd grumble, rolling your eyes at clarisse's infuriating gestures. it was like clarisse was always besides you in some way, annoying you just for the fun of it.

with clarisse's eyes sparking with amusement and the corners of her mouth curling upward, she'd glide effortlessly out of your way but not before patting your shoulder, squeezing it just a bit.

by far, clarisse was one of the most aggravating person you knew.

"sooo… what are you doin'?" clarisse's irritating, yet captivating voice rang through your ears. your eyes would follow her as she'd plop herself smugly besides you on the bench.

your gaze would be fixed upon the lake, barely noticing clarisse besides you despite the warmth you felt while besides the girl. as you spoke up, it was barely audible, "just lookin' at the lake, la rue." as much as you wanted to scoff at clarisse currently, you couldn't.

she'd nod, her eyes accompanied with a warm and understanding gaze—one you were stunned by. nevertheless, you'd flash an awkward, crooked smile at the girl. the silence between the two of you was new. usually, either you or clarisse would start up banter, arguing with each other left and right, no matter what; it was like your guys' dynamic.

clarisse would inch closer to you, making you hyper aware of every little movement she made. the closer she was to you, the more it was difficult for you to conceal your nervousness.

how could you be this nervous with a girl you're supposed to despise? it made no sense for you to be nervous, as you did despise clarisse, but there was something that always lured you back to the daughter of ares'—something unexplainable.

you could almost feel your heart jumping out of your chest when clarisse turned her head, meeting your gaze. her eyes locked onto yours, and her focus shifted.

her eyes would subtly trace contours of your lips with an unspoken curiosity. the proximity between the two of you created a magnetic pull, drawing the both of you in.

the faint hovering of her fingers on your knuckles only caused you to shift in your seat. knowing if you leaned forward, you two would be entangled in each other, so you'd try your best to refrain from doing so. your mouth ran dry just from the sight of clarisse this close up.

as soon as you heard a scream from afar, you'd snap out of your trance, your hands flapping up to push clarisse gently enough to make sure it didn't look like you two were entangled with each other.

it'd take you a few minutes to settle down, as your breath was heavy. you'd ignore the way clarisse would complain about being shoved "harshly" for no apparent reason, despite the fact you were gentle with her.

you'd frantically mumble an incoherent excuse, suddenly getting up, and sprinting away from the girl, leaving clarisse with a dumbfounded expression. as soon as you reached your cabin, you'd plop onto your bed, rubbing your temples.

as you sank into the mattress, your mind would instantly be swarmed with thoughts about clarisse and the previous encounter. you'd grunt, wishing you weren't like this—wishing you didn't have to think about the frustrating, yet glorious girl.

with a distant gaze, you'd stare at the ceiling, lost in contemplation with a subtle smile on your lips. a soft sigh escaped from you, and you'd glance over at the hydrangeas, the very same ones clarisse handed you.

as your eyelids grew heavy, the quietness of the night enveloped you. the tension in your body gradually melted away, as the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest signaled your peaceful slumber.

the next few days pass, and you couldn't help but feel pity for clarisse. every time you'd look her way, it'd seem as if she was sulking. as much as you wanted to tease her, you just couldn't bring yourself to.

inevitably, you'd just avoid clarisse, trying to give her space. and as you avoided her, the curly-haired girl avoided you as well.

today was no difference. you'd be training with percy, reveling in the jokes the boy would crack up in between breaths.

sure, you enjoyed his company, especially on days like these, but nothing could fill in the clarisse-shaped hole in your heart. nevertheless, you'd feel somewhat a weight shift off your chest as you practiced with percy.

once the two of you were breathing heavily, hyperventilating, and barely able to move, you both would lay on the ground, paying no attention to the sounds of swords clashing from afar.

as you looked around the crowd of campers, only one camper caught your eye, and it was clarisse, of course.

clarisse was a sight—even when she was fuming, she was drop-dead gorgeous. from her dark eyes to her brawny form, her beauty emitted resilience and allure.

no matter what facial expression she wore, it'd seem as if you were drawn to all her features. you’d say her beauty and determination was what left an inevitable impression on you, but you knew there was much more than that; after all, clarisse was practically the girl of your dreams, but you couldn’t admit that—not when you both held the relationship of supposedly hating each other.

staring into the oblivion, your eyes were practically beaming with infatuation for the daughter of ares'. percy would nudge you playfully, snapping you out of reality, as he spoke up, "y'know, you could just talk to her, right? i mean, i know she's not the best person to be around, but i'm sure you'll be alright," his tone as optimistic as ever.

you'd scoff, "what would i even say?"

in response, percy would just shrug, "go with the flow or something." and with a huff, you'd take percy's suggestion, heading on over to where clarisse and her siblings practiced at.

you'd stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket, slowly taking steps to clarisse's direction. each step carried reluctancy, and you'd glance at the ground, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

approaching clarisse, her back would be turnt towards you, and just like anyone who had a death wish, you'd tap on her shoulder lightly. she'd snap her head to you, her breath ragged.

"what do you want?" clarisse would mutter, her voice not as dry as she wished it were. rather than it coming out as a demand, it'd come out as a vulnerable mumble—one clarisse wished she could dispose of herself.

you'd take a step back from the curly-haired girl, giving her some space. "just… wanted to talk," you'd mumble as you watched clarisse's face contort into a faint smile. though, as she realized she was smiling, she'd immediately wear a dull, stoic expression.

"then talk," the daughter of ares' grumbled, her arms crossed against her chest.

"just… wanted to say sorry for the other day, clarisse." you'd mumble, glancing at the ground, as you waited for clarisse to speak up, or at least nod, she'd look at you, her expression dumbfounded.

clarisse would raise an eyebrow, as if she was suspicious you were playing a cruel trick on her, "you're really apologizing to me?"

"what else does it look like, la rue?” you'd mumble, rubbing your temples. even when you felt sympathy for the girl, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at her skepticism.

as much as clarisse wanted to be mad at you, wanting to just shove you out of the way, just like how she did with percy, she just couldn't. it was like everything was different with you; everything with you was like a breeze, even if she constantly teased you.

"so you really are apologizing to me," clarisse would inch closer to you, her lips tightening into a thin, unwavering line. her gaze would bore down, almost as if to challenge you.

for a few seconds, all you could hear was the deafening, unbearable silence that followed.

"i guess i forgive you," clarisse would mutter nonchalantly, though her attempt to be nonchalant was shattered by the subtle grin she held and the twinkle in her eyes.

glancing up at clarisse, your eyes would widen in sheer disbelief. clarisse, the same one who was short-tempered, forgave you and didn't hold a grudge against you. speechless, all you could do was close the distance between the two of you, pulling clarisse into a heartfelt embrace.

with warmth radiating off the embrace, clarisse would huff, wrapping her arms around your waist. her gaze would soften at the sight of you burying your head against her chest, almost as if you were eager to hug the curly-haired girl.

breaking the silence, clarisse would speak up, "never thought i'd be huggin' you," she'd chuckle. you'd roll your eyes, grumbling against her chest, "never thought so either."

despite clarisse knowing she should let you go, she doesn't; instead, she holds you tighter by the waist, as if you were gonna escape out of her grasp. she savors the moment, uncertain whether or not you two would return to the bickering the next day.

lifting your head up, you'd notice the way clarisse's eyes glimmered with warmth and compassion. gradually, you two would let go of each other. clarisse would rub your sides, her touch tender-like. your cheeks would heat up at her warm touch, and you'd beam a gentle smile at her.

the fact you were meant to hate the curly-haired girl was long forgotten, and now, all you could think about was how tender she was towards you.

realizing evening was soon approaching, clarisse would whisper, "it's getting late. maybe i could walk you back to your cabin, y'know—just for safety."

you'd raise an eyebrow at the girl wanting to walk you back for "safety," knowing she just wanted to walk with you to talk to you more. however, you'd nod, a quiet chuckle escaping your throat.

clarisse would flash a sly smile at you as the two of you walked side by side together. as the both of you were met by the door of your cabin, you'd plant a chaste, quick kiss onto clarisse's cheek. you'd enter your cabin, leaving the daughter of ares' flustered, yet love-struck.

as the sunlight filtered through your windows, you'd wake up with a groan, groggily sitting up. by the time you were barely awake, your ears would ring at the sound of knocking against your window. you'd groan again, wishing you could have a moment of silence till you saw clarisse through your window.

from your view, all you could see was clarisse clutching something you couldn't depict in her arms. as you'd slide your window open, you'd be greeted by the daughter of ares standing firmly in front of you. you'd groan, rubbing your throbbing head. even tired, you couldn't help but giggle at the sleazy grin clarisse wore.

as you scanned clarisse's figure, your gaze would be on the bouquet of flowers the girl held in her arms. "had good dreams, pretty girl?" clarisse drawled, as she climbed into your bed. noticing your sleepy figure, she'd ruffle your hair.

you'd nudge clarisse's shoulder playfully, grabbing the arrangement of flowers from her. as you admired the different kinds of flowers wrapped, clarisse would await your reaction; she was unsure if you loved them, or if you were disgusted. the daughter of ares' hoped it was the former, her eyes scanning your facial expression.

you'd release the bouquet of flowers, and suddenly wrapping your arms around the curly-haired girl's neck, the distance between the two of you barely an inch. "never thought you'd be the type to give flowers," you'd whisper, a throaty chuckle escaping from you.

clarisse would push forward, pulling you in closer. your noses were now touching, and all you could think about was clarisse's beauty. her fingers would caress your waist, rubbing your sides.

as you close the gap between her lips and yours, pure ecstasy ran through clarisse's veins. your lips would be smooth, falling apart at the brush of clarisse' lips, welcoming her as her fingers grasped your hips. it's like heaven on earth, and clarisse wished she could have you by her side every second of the day. she wished only she could have the privilege to kiss you whenever she wanted.

clarisse never expected the two of you to be together, and she doesn't even know how it happened. she never expected this to be more than what she thought it was—merely a game, and a way to bother you every day, but here she was, barely able to keep her hands off of you.

pulling away, you'd feel clarisse's hot breath hitting your lips. the daughter of ares would cock her head to the side, her lips slightly downward as she groaned, "c'mon, sweetheart, just another kiss."

you'd roll your eyes before planting a kiss onto clarisse's cheek. giggling at her antics, you'd mumble against her neck, "so, is it safe to say you're my girlfriend now?"

a low, throaty chuckle escaped clarisse's lips, carrying a hint of amusement. her laughter would leave you confused. to you, her chuckle was a soft melody. "you're really gonna ask me that after we've just kissed?" clarisse would raise an eyebrow.

"shut up," you'd lament, your palms placed flat against her chest. her eyes were etched on your lips, as she suppressed a cocky grin at the way your eyes dimmed at the sight of her façade.

clarisse pulled you closer again, giving you nothing but teasing glances for you to initiate the kiss. indulging in the curly-haired girl's antics, you'd softly press a kiss onto her lips. "can't believe you're this clingy," you'd tease, flashing a grin at the girl. again and again, you'd press kisses onto her lips, and each time, clarisse would savor the moment.

you couldn't help but let out soft giggles at the simple, utterly ironic thought of the daughter of ares tempting you like a sinner but treating you like an angel.

the effect she had on you was everlasting, just like how it was when you two first met. and to be able to kiss you whenever, was a dream clarisse finally fulfilled.

tell the truth, i look better under you

i can't lose when i'm with you

[silverwings920]

So I have a stupid iski idea...

this idea has been stuck in my head for the past few days, and refuses to leave me alone, so here's something for the writers out there who need/want a spicy + comedy iski prompt (assuming my humor isn't too far off the mark lol)

idk how many people read dom/sub doujinshi's here, but something that just recently occurred to me bc i've started reading raws is that the dom voice lines/commands are often in English (or some foreign language) while normal speech is Japanese (e.g. 'Kiss' instead of 'キスして', 'Stay' instead of '待って', 'Look' instead of '見って', etc.).

anyway, the idea (v stupid & v cliche, i'm super aware):

basically iski have an established dom/sub relationship

when it started, Isagi barely knew any English or German, beyond small phrases of command or praise (like, 'Come', 'Speak', 'Stop', 'Gut' (German - good), 'Süß' (German - cute/sweet), etc.) that he uses in intimate moments (could be sexual, or just comfort) with Kaiser

note: he does this because he's aware that Kaiser needs the extra layer of delineation between their normal interactions and their dom/sub moments/scenes

Isagi's accent is kind of heavy when he uses his dom voice

outside of those moments, they usually just communicate with the Mikage translators on, which smooths out a lot of Isagi's voice & sounds very different from his dom voice

Kaiser kind of gets Pavlov'd into associating Isagi speaking English and German is reserved for when his guard is down / when he's safe / when he doesn't have to be all... 'God's Chosen Emperor'

as the Japan team progresses through the U20 World Cup, Isagi, along with the rest of the Blue Lockers, per Ego's insistence, starts learning to speak English more fluently, and makes Kaiser help him study

Kaiser agrees (all begrudging 'fine. i can't let you be an embarrassment to my image. you need to be able to at least talk to people without the translators as crutches')

soon, he realizes what a mistake he's made by agreeing to this because hearing Isagi actually speak English, as opposed to the translators filtering his voice, to him has a huge effect on him he never noticed before (because he was always already in a vulnerable state of mind when Isagi used it before)

he doesn't ever address this with Isagi because he doesn't want Isagi making fun of him or taking advantage of this knowledge (in the 'i want to be in full control of myself at all times'/'i'm not entirely ready to open up about everything yet'/'i don't wanna seem weak' kind of way, not implying that Isagi would actually manipulate him in any way)

over the years, Isagi and Kaiser grow closer, they learn each other's idiosyncrasies, and they even broach the topic of 'Kaiser's past', but Kaiser still never tells Isagi about the dom voice language thing, especially since he slowly got used to English thing and doesn't react to it as much anymore

then, Isagi signs a contract with BM (or any German team really) and has to, obviously, move to Germany

so, of course, he asks Kaiser to help him with his German

Kaiser, realizing what would happen to him if he were to agree, says something along the lines of 'absolutely fucking not. u can stay helpless babe around here. i'll say shit for you if really need it, because i'm so magnanimous, as long as i get to tease you for it lots'

Isagi, not at all realizing what Kaiser's refusal is about and thinking that he just wants to see him flounder, is just like 'fine. asshole' and never mentions it to Kaiser again

Kaiser breathes a sigh of relief, kind of assuming that Isagi will just leave it be, despite it making no sense that Isagi would just back down that easily

Isagi starts learning German in his own time, mostly so that when he doesn't have someone to help him communicate, he can still get by

he even gets help from Ness for a little bit (mainly bc Ness, no longer a full-time Kaiser glazer and fully aware of why Kaiser said no, is channeling his inner little shit and can't wait to see it all come crashing down on Kaiser. yes, he gets along quite well with Hiori now; Hiori denies all allegations of being a bad influence)

he still lets Kaiser speak for him most of the time when they're outside, getting groceries, having dinner, visiting places, etc. because he can tell that Kaiser is happy when he does it, and during interviews, he can usually get by with just English

eventually, somebody manages to dig up Kaiser's criminal record and it gets blown up in the media

Kaiser doesn't really care about the whole thing because he's already worked through that part of his past, but the media needs to be appeased so that it can move on to the next big thing, so BM arranges a press conference to deal with the situation, and Isagi is there, watching from the side

at first, it's going well, or well as it could, given the topic and nature of the media, but some rude tabloid writer/paparazzo has to ruin it

basically, he breaks code and starts deviating from the preapproved questions, as well as calling Kaiser all sorts of names, in German, of course

Kaiser is used to this plenty, he's called himself all those things plenty, heard it from many more people, but Isagi is incensed at the scene, his German atp good enough to understand every word

he immediately gets up from where he's leaning against the wall, finds his place beside Kaiser, and gets on his Slursagi bag IN GERMAN

again, Kaiser couldn't care less about the paparazzo, and was already signaling security to pull the dude out for disrupting the press conference when Isagi was making his way onstage, before, well, Slursagi engaged, locked and loaded with all the slurs he could remember and plenty more he made up in the five seconds it took him to get to the center of the room, giving zero fucks about his own reputation as golden boy, heart of Blue Lock, whatever

now, while this dude is basically peeing his pants from the verbal lashing Isagi is giving him, plus the legal action he's threatening, Kaiser is in true crisis mode, bc 'omfg, this is why i didn't want u to learn German. save me from this menace of man. scratch that, i'm right where i'm meant to be. but did he really have to do this in front of everyone? did this really have to be the way i found out? ness, i'm gonna kill you. i know you knew about this and you didn't fucking warn me. how dare you. i cannot be going into subspace during a fucking press conference. plz plz plz let this be over soon. i'm dying rn. omg, omg, omg, he's so fucking hot, his voice is so pretty and gravel-y, his accent is so smooth, save me. Yoichi, i'm gonna kill you for doing this to me in public. fuck that, let's seriously gtfo of here. like, rn'

luckily for Kaiser, that is basically the end of the press conference because their pr manager is like, 'even if it's for a teammate, we cannot have someone flying off the handle at the media like this'

so Kaiser and Isagi get to go off alone, at which point Isagi notices that Kaiser is unusually quiet, and is like 'what's wrong? if it's about what that dimwit said, obviously he's fucking wrong, he doesn't know anything about you and certainly has no right to be accusing you of shit when he can't even get his facts straight. actually, this whole media circus is just plain ridiculous. you were framed, like what the fuck? & u didn't that awful sperm donor of yours get arrested right then and there for literally hitting a child right in front of the police????' and he keeps going on this tangent, all still in German

Kaiser's still quiet, hoping Isagi will just shut up already because the German is really getting to him, when he finally can't take it anymore and whines, fucking whines, immediately stopping Isagi in his tracks

Isagi's all like, 'shit, i got too caught up in getting pissed with the situation, i gotta be paying attention to my sub. babe, what's wrong? do you wanna go back home?' (yes, Isagi moved in immediately when he got to Germany, Kaiser insisted)

Kaiser nods, and they race back

Isagi sets Kaiser on the couch and goes to fetch him water and a weighted blanket, still thinking that he's bothered by the paparazzo poking at old scars

instead, when Isagi gets back, he hears Kaiser muttering under his breath 'i knew this was gonna happen. shit. i knew this was gonna happen. i should've told him beforehand. so fucking embarrassing. and in public, too. no, actually, fuck Ness for never telling me about this. i know for a fact he knew. and that cyan ultra-sadist asshole. i'm sure he was in on it too. i'm gonna kill them both, then everyone else, then Yoichi, then myself. stupid, stupid, stupid body, getting conditioned on his stupid voice, what the fuck is wrong with me? his voice? are you kidding? no, no, no, this cannot be real. Michael, get a grip, you can't seriously just drop like this. not because of Yoichi's stupid, stupid voice-' before breaking off when he realizes that Isagi has come back, 'SHIT'

Isagi's like, 'wait, what do you mean my voice?' still ever so infuriatingly in German

'THAT, you fucking idiot!! stop it! stop talking in German! i fucking knew this was gonna happen, stupid, stupid Yoichi getting me conditioned to your stupid voice!!!' Kaiser spits out, his voice getting louder as he feels increasingly embarrassed by the situation he's found himself in.

'stop talking... in German? what's wrong with my German?' finally flipping back to English, and Isagi finally gets the memo, a sly smirk spreading on his face, 'Oooh. I see someone likes me speaking in German, is that what? is that why u didn't want me learning it? because i turned u on, because i made u feel safe? you should've told me, Mihya'

'AS fucking IF!!! clearly, my opinion or not, you'd learn the language. if i had told you, you'd only do that faster and use it against me! i know you, you asshole! you stupid dom!' Kaiser flusters

'of course, i would' Isagi responds smoothly, 'but i'd also make you feel so much better, wouldn't i?'

Kaiser gapes at his audacity, blustering a 'you- you fucking- shut up! no way! you stupid dom! what are you on about?! there's no w-'

'want to test that, baby? komm her, mein schöner Kaiser' (come here, my lovely emperor/beautiful Kaiser)

or, alternative ending (the original one, before i sat down and typed out the idea):

Kaiser immediately flushes when Isagi starts speaking German in the press conference room, shoots a quick glare at their PR manager to clean up this mess, and drags Isagi out of the room by the ear

'ow, ow, ow. what's up with that, Kaiser? i was just getting to the good part. he fucking deserved that for-' Isagi immediately switches back into Japanese, still ranting

'shut up! u dumb dom! what do u think u were doing out there?' Kaiser grills, slowly recovering from the shock of hearing Isagi's German

'huh? that dude was a fucking asshole; he needed a talking to!' Isagi insisted, not at all understanding what the issue was.

'not that! the German! what was up with that? when did u learn German behind my back??' Kaiser fumes

'huh, the German? oh, i just thought i might need it if no one was around to help me speak. what's wrong?' Isagi answers, still entirely oblivious

Kaiser drags a hand down his face as he tries to compose himself again. he opens his mouth, 'what's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG???? what's wrong is i nearly dropped in subspace because of it, you asshole!!'

'you- what? wait, because i spoke German?' Isagi burst out laughing 'no fucking way, is that why you didn't want to help me with it? because you knew how you'd react?'

'shut up! you trained my body into this, u fucking idiot! this is all because of you! it was already bad enough when you started learning English, you just had to go and learn German, too!' Kaiser twisted Isagi's ear harder

'ow, ow, ow. alright, alright. i'll stop teasing you, just stop being mad at me. lass es mich wiedergutmachen, ja?' Isagi purrs, pulling Kaiser in by the waist. (let me make it up to you, yeah?)

omake:

the following morning, before training:

Kaiser and Isagi walk into the locker room. them pulling off their shirts reveal a battleground, like they had been mauled by dogs

Hiori snorts, 'so what did it, hmm?' elbowing Isagi's side, eyebrows raising and smile widening in a knowing look 'was it the defending his honor, or the German?'

'wait! you knew?' Isagi shakes his head 'no, of course, you did. i just don't know how.'

Hiori smiles wider, waiting for him to continue

'the German, of course, though i don't know how you knew when i only just found out.'

Hiori giggles, and responds 'oh, Ness told me! apparently, Kaiser had the same reaction when we all started learning English!'

In the background:

'oh, shit! gotta run!!! how could you throw me under the bus like that, you ultra-sadist!'

'NNNEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! i'm gonna kill you!!!!'

Hiori whistles, 'what a great day today is. i'm gonna be raking in the cash today.'

[nekoannie-chan]

A cold winter, warm love

Title: A cold winter, warm love.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Pre-serum!Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 446 words.

Square: 9 “Brushing away their hair”.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You take care of Steve when he's sick.

Major Tags: Steve is sick, fluff.

Additional tags: My entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May Edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my writing skills in English. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.

I don’t grant permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or in other languages (I translate my work) or for the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this). I created them exclusively for my fics; please respect my work and refrain from stealing it. Some people here make dividers that anyone can use; mine is not this type, so please look for the other people's dividers. The only exceptions are those I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @real-fbi @caplanbuckybarnes @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @endlesstwanted @patzammit @kmc1989

Brooklyn, 1937.

Snow was falling in the streets, and from the window of the small room you were in, you could see the flakes accumulating on the rooftops.

You didn't know exactly when he had started feeling ill, but when you found him that afternoon in his apartment, you knew it was serious.

“Steve, why didn't you tell me sooner?“ You cried softly as you placed your hand on his hot forehead.

Fever.

He was lying on the bed, his eyes narrowed with discomfort, but he still tried to smile.

“It's nothing... just a cold.“ He mumbled as if the very act of speaking cost him.

You snorted and shook your head. You knew he was lying.

Steve had been used to pretending he was fine for years. That he didn't hurt, that he didn't have trouble breathing, that he wasn't affected by his illnesses. But you knew the truth. And you weren't going to let it go this time.

So, you decided to stay.

You went to the kitchen and made a cup of hot tea, then helped him sit up in bed, draping an arm around his shoulders to support him.

Steve slumped against you with a tired sigh, his head resting on your shoulder out of sheer inertia.

“You don't have to stay, you know,” he murmured.

You smiled slightly, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Of course I have to stay. Who else is going to take care of you?”

“No one,” he confessed softly.

How many times had Steve Rogers been sick, alone in this small room, with no one to stay by his side?

Without answering, you simply hugged him tighter.

After a while, you gently laid him down and took a brush from his nightstand. His blond hair was disheveled and sweaty with fever.

With slow, delicate movements, you began to run it through his hair, gently untangling it.

Steve, who looked half asleep, let out a low sigh, his body relaxing completely under your touch.

“This feels good.” He murmured, his eyes closed.

You smiled.

“You should brush your hair more often, Rogers.“ You joked, running your fingers through his locks to separate them carefully before sliding the brush back in.

Steve didn't respond right away. But when he did, his voice was a barely audible whisper.

“I like it better when you do it.”

You didn't say anything. You didn't have to.

You just kept running the brush through his hair, your other hand gently stroking his cheek, making sure he was comfortable.

And when, finally, his breathing deepened and you knew he had fallen asleep, you kissed his forehead tenderly and whispered,

“Sleep well, Steve.”

[gamerbot-22]

Vash with a trans lady gf. Both of them finding comfort in each other over knowing what being an outcast is like. Disling your body and how it looks. Loving the other

Oh my GOD this is such a cute concept I. Adore this so much. Also kind of a sweet little sequel to the Nai x Transmasc headcanon set I did a while back here!

Vash the Stampede x Transfem Girlfriend

TW/CWs: Reader is transfem and is referred to with feminine language and she/her pronouns, dysphoria on both sides of the relationship, comfort to both parties, barely proofread and I appreciate spellchecks!

Word Count: 474

A/N: So full disclosure, I'm trans but in the opposite direction, so if any of the following is inaccurate or offensive please know that I did not mean for it to be that way and I would be more than happy to make corrections. This is a super sweet request and I want to do it justice! I'm also returning to the more conversational tone of my usual headcanon posts because while the daily ficlets have been fun, sometimes I just wanna ramble with little concern for narrative flow--

Likes and Reblogs appreciated (reblogs > likes), Requests are Open, and it's all under the cut!

The dividers in this post were made by @/saradika-graphics ☆

Vash "self esteem? what's that" "The Stampede" Saverem has... reservations about his own body and how it looks, but those do not exist towards you even a little bit. I can see him either being loudly supportive (think bragging about how pretty his girlfriend looks in her new dress to anyone who'll listen) to a lot more personal and private (holding you around your waist whenever there's a chance to and keeping you close, just so you know he likes having you near.)

He's very encouraging but not pushy when you talk about things you don't think you can do. Like if you're hesitant to start wearing make-up or letting your hair get longer he very gently, but in plain English (or whatever language it is they speak on Gunsmoke,) says that no one is stopping you from doing whatever you want with your body. "And either way, you know I'll love you to the moon and back!" He always adds, giving your hand a little squeeze. He wants you to feel more comfortable with yourself, but he knows that just shoving you out into the spotlight won't do you any good.

If you flip that back on him though, he gets all shy and clammy. He says things like you don't have to be polite and call him handsome. He knows that his scars are pretty gnarly, and that they probably wouldn't look any better even if he did have the resources to treat them properly. It can turn into a spiral pretty fast until you swoop in with a kiss to the crown of his head to snap him out of it.

Because you two didn't start dating for each other's bodies. That's just not how it works for Vash. He might be a bit flirty and forward but you know, he doesn't actually cross the threshold all that often, so it means a hell of a lot first of all, to be alright with you seeing him without his shirt on, and even to just. Be around him for this long. He's flighty, he's nervous, he doesn't want to drag you down into the sand with him, but you don't want him down there either!!

Sometimes it feels like you two are treading metaphorical water, either from the stress of being on the run or from not being all that comfortable in your own skin, but don't you ever think for a second that you're alone. Vash'll always be there to love you and tell you you're pretty and that there's nobody else he'd rather call his Mayfly and you're there to return the favor, kiss the marks that glow on his cheeks or the feathers that sprout from his neck or even just give his flesh and blood hand a squeeze when he gets that distant look in his eyes.