#I don’t fucking know how all of this exists

[mariasont]

schrödinger’s relationship

spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: situationship (ish? it gets resolved fast lol), mutual pining, friends to lovers (except they've been kissing for months), mention of heavy makeout, lap sitting, shirt removal, spencer kissing you to shut you the fuck up, cat does not survive the experiment (metaphorically speaking, there is no animal killing in this fic LOL) wc: 1.4k request: here

Your body is warm in his lap, your weight pressing down just enough to be distracting — no, disorienting — and Spencer is trying very hard not to look at your lips. Not just because they’re parted, slick, and kiss-swollen, but because the soft smudge of your lip gloss is evidence that this has been happening. That he’s been kissing you long enough to leave proof of it.

Mascara has clumped just slightly at the corners of your lashes and there’s a half-moon of pink polish chipped at the very edge of your thumbnail.

He’s obsessing over details. Your pupils are dilated, swallowing every fleck of color. He knows it’s a physiological response — dopamine, norepinephrine, oxytocin, all working in tandem to make you look like this, flushed and increasingly pretty on his thighs.

It’s easier to focus on biology than it is to focus on the fact that this moment exists in a state of suspended reality.

This was new. Not just in the way that everything between you had been new, in the way that months of small, careful steps had led to this, but in the way that Spencer had never felt like this. Overheated. Overwhelmed. Overrun with sensation. It had started as everything else had — soft and slow, the kind of kissing that didn’t lead anywhere except to more kissing. 

And for months, he convinced himself that he could exist in this purgatory of lips meeting and parting, of hands resting politely at your waist. That he could always pull away before the ground gave away beneath him.

Today the ground was gone.

Spencer had never been particularly drawn to categories — not in the way people seemed to crave them. Labels had always felt limiting, reductive, forcing the complexities of human relationships into neat little boxes that never quite fit. He had been content in ambiguity, had never needed something to be named in order to understand it. 

With you, the lack of label wasn’t liberating, it was frustrating. Because if this wasn’t something that could be named, then what was it?

“I’m just saying, I feel like if Rossi can write a whole book about a case, then I should at least be able to mention it in passing at brunch.” Your fingers skate absentmindedly across the dip of his throat, and Spencer, entranced, forgets to do something as basic as breathe. Oxygen is apparently optional. “But no, apparently that’s an inappropriate topic over eggs benedict. Which, okay, sure, but if I have to sit through another conversation about Carly’s fiance’s fantasy football league, I think I deserve to liven it up a little, you know?”

Your genuine need for an answer is clear, but Spencer can’t even remember what brunch is.

You gesture when you talk, and it’s so innocent — just emphasis, just a habit — but right now, it’s destroying him. Your fingers drag absently up his arm, over the soft material of his sweater, mapping the line of his forearm before skimming back up his neck. And then, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your palms smooth over his chest, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone like you’re idly counting his heartbeats. Spencer is painfully aware of every single one.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

Spencer manages to clear his throat — barely.

“I think your friends don’t appreciate you enough.” His voice sounds strained, but any attempt at analyzing tone evaporates the second his fingers breach the barrier of your shirt. 

Warm fingertips skim over bare skin, and suddenly, the conversation seems wildly misplaced. Because what was that about appreciation? If he’s trying to prove a point, he’s making it very convincingly.

You hum, shifting against him — not intentionally, probably, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels it all the same.

“Well, I can’t just hang out with you constantly.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond — because if he’s honest, that’s exactly what he wants. You, constantly. No breaks, no buffer. Just you.

Instead, he stares at your mouth again, because his brain is broken, and this is the inevitable destination. He never really understood the appeal of making out before you — before that first time, when he was supposed to just kiss you once and somehow ended up losing entire minutes of his life to your lips, to the sheer pleasure of pressing against you, of drinking in your sounds.

His broken brain is built to reinforce pleasure-seeking behaviors. Neurochemical feedback loops, all of it designed to keep him coming back. To keep him wanting. As if he needed the help.

Spencer doesn’t even pretend to think about it before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Your lips twitch. You’re about to tease him, he can tell.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all,” you say, tilting your head. “But wasn’t it you who went on that tangent about how platonic relationships significantly improve cognitive function?”

Spencer tries to find a loophole in that statement.

“And we,” you say, tracing a path down the trail of hair at his navel, “are not exactly fulfilling the platonic requirement.”

There was a time when he would have insisted — vehemently, even — that their relationship was strictly platonic. Fool’s errand.

“I mean, technically, if we wanted to be platonic, we could just… say we are.” That alone is egregiously incorrect. Spencer prepares to say as much, but then you pause, rolling the thought over like you’re actually considering it, before adding, “Like if we don’t label it, then it doesn’t count, right?”

His first instinct is to argue. His second instinct is to really argue. But neither one survives the sensory overload of you pressed against him.

“It’s like when you don’t open your credit card statements,” you continue, lips pursed. “Sure, the debt exists, but if you don’t acknowledge it, then it doesn’t feel real. So technically, if we just never say what this is, then it’s…”

“Schrödinger’s relationship?”

Spencer doesn’t know why he gives you the words — why he hands you the metaphor like a loaded gun and watches as you take perfect aim.

“Exactly! We exist in a state of undefined possibilities. We’re both platonic and not platonic until we open the box.”

Spencer sighs, rubbing at his temple, because now his entire brain is consumed by the implications of your logic. 

Schrödinger’s cat was never meant to be a real experiment — just a way to illustrate how, in quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until measured. The cat is placed in a box, along with a vial of poison triggered by a completely random quantum event. Until the box is opened, it’s both alive and dead, trapped in an impossible in-between, a paradox that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. The problem is, that concept doesn’t translate perfectly to relationships. People aren’t quantum particles. Relationships don’t exist in probability states.

Except, apparently, this one does. Because as long as neither of you put a definitive label on what’s happening here, you exist in an undefined state. 

He glances at you, at the expectant look in your eyes, and something about it makes him laugh, not because this is funny, necessarily, but because of course it would take a physics analogy for him to see what’s been obvious all along.

“I’m fairly certain that if we opened the metaphorical box, we would find that the cat — that is, our relationship — was decidedly not platonic.”

He hopes you’ll take the words for what they mean. That, for once, you won’t take the obvious escape route, won’t let yourself tuck this moment nearly into the realm of plausible deniability.

Because what he really said — what he really meant — was that he wants you. Only you. Singular, exclusive, definitively. If you pressed him for stronger language, he’d give it to you.

Your face was quick to light up.

“Are you asking me to go steady? Because Spencer, that’s a serious commitment. That means shared desserts, and, like, the expectation that I text you goodnight. And what’s the policy on PDA? Full access or —”

The rest of your sentence vanishes into fabric as Spencer pulls your shirt over your head, words muffled into cotton. You let out a muffled protest, momentarily caught in the fabric, and Spencer swears he’s never been more tempted to laugh at anything in his life.

By the time he tosses your shirt aside, you��ve recovered, blinking at him like nothing happened, hair adorably mussed.

“ — case-by-case basis?”

Spencer drags his hands down your hair, smoothing out the worst of the damage. He sighs dramatically, but his lips are twitching. “If I had known going steady required this much paperwork, I would’ve reconsidered.”

You grin at him. “Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait until we get into the holiday gift-giving policies and date night scheduling. Speaking of which —”

He doesn’t let you finish. He kisses you mid-sentence, less because he wants to shut you up (though that’s a nice bonus) and more because he can. Because he gets to. Because somehow, without him even realizing it was happening, this wonderful, impossible thing has become real.

This thing between you, this thing that was supposed to be undefined, a quantum maybe — it’s never been uncertain. It’s never been both platonic and not platonic, no matter how long he tried to pretend otherwise.

No, the box is open now. It probably always was. 

And Spencer had never been so happy to kill the cat.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Back (Sam Winchester x female reader)

You get to have Sam in a special way that no one else does.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 1k words. Pegging. Sam's tectonic ass back muscles. Our boy's getting treated.

Anyone who thinks Sam Winchester looks good from the front hasn’t seen his back, you think, as you run your hands up over the miles of tanned skin, from the cusp of his downright delectable ass over his spine to the mountains of rippling muscle between his shoulder blades. It’s actually shocking to you how much you have under-appreciated this part of your lover so far and you swear to yourself that it will never happen again. Especially not when Sam thrusts back, meeting you halfway when you, well, your appendage, enters him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice broken and perfect. You lean forward, continue running your hands over his back. You don’t even have to hold yourself up, can simply use him to steady yourself, since Sam is doing that for the both of you, tensed, thick arms flexing with his movements. You lower your face, let your lips run along his skin.

For some reason, having him in this position makes you feel even smaller compared to the tall and broad hunter, but it also makes you feel in control, and the combination of that is just delicious.

Sam thrusts back again as you thrust forward, as the dildo you have attached to your harness enters him again. He grunts, a beautiful sound, especially knowing that it comes from what you’re doing to him. Your hands wander back to his narrow hips. You’ve found a rhythm, your own hips moving back and forth in a nice, easy flow and the way each push, each pivot makes Sam’s beautiful body react makes you finally understand why he loves doing this to you.

“You’re making me feel so good,” Sam grunts, and one of his hands leaves the mattress, and you know it goes to his front, to his cock, which you know is hard and leaking.

You haven’t touched him there, not for a while, only earlier when you were getting him nice and relaxed. You kneeled in front of Sam who was standing up, mouth on his dick and hand pushed in-between his ass cheeks, fingering him open. You let him drop from your mouth at some point, only looked up at him. Built like a goddamn Greek god, the prettiest face you’ve ever seen and the kindest soul that exists in this world, and his lips were parted and brow knotted because you were making him feel good, were allowing him some indulgence.

It makes you wonder if this is what people feel when they have a religious epiphany – you were put on this earth to bring Sam Winchester as much pleasure and happiness as he brings you.

And if Sam throwing his head back now, you grabbing him by the thick hair at his neck, the vibrating groan that leaves him and the continued flexing of his muscles is any indicator, you’re doing a damn good job at it.

“You look so fucking sexy like this, Sam,” you say, your own voice breathy even though technically, you’re not being stimulated, but technically��doesn’t account for the intense pressure in you that makes you feel like you could come from this, just from this.

“I love making you feel good,” you continue, your fingernails scraping over the back of Sam’s head, only to grab him again. “Love to fuck you in your beautiful ass, make you come all over my hands.”

Sam and you have only done this a few times, a couple of intense sessions of kink exploration leading him to finally reveal his wish for you to peg him, which you were very excited about, so you’re still figuring out the dirty talk.

You’re not shy about complimenting Sam, not by any stretch, but you want to make sure you say the right things, make sure he doesn’t regret sharing this little wish with you because it would be a real shame if for some reason he wanted to stop. And that’s not just because previous experience lets you know that once Sam comes, he’ll take over, basically tear the harness from you and eat you out within an inch of your life, with a vigor that is almost violent. It’s because this, this part, you love.

You see Sam’s ass flexing, and goddamn it, you want to sink your teeth into his cheeks. Tempting, maybe for another time, but for now, you reach around him as best you can. It’s a little tough with the difference in size between you two, but Sam is already jerking himself off, and more than anything you lay your hand over his, involve yourself even if he is doing the work.

It slips out of you before you even really know you’re going to say it: “Love splitting you open like this and making you all mine, Sam,” you moan.

It hits your brain a second later, what exactly you said, but the next second Sam grunts, the thrusts he was meeting you with stutter and you see the grand finale of those goddamn back muscles tense and clench like a time lapse of tectonic plates meeting. You’ve never said anything quite as specific as this before, but it seems to work for Sam as he collapses under you.

The dildo slips out of him, and you kiss your way up his body. He’s lying on his side, eyes closed, breathing heavily, and you peck him a few times on the cheek and jaw, making him smile. He blinks his eyes open and looks at you and you have another one of those moments where you wonder how you’ve been lucky enough to find him. You’ve been having a lot of these lately.

Sam pulls you close, post-come bliss making him cuddly and then, as expected and hoped for, his fingers find the harness, start opening it.

“I’m gonna make you come until you see stars,” he says into your mouth, and you can’t help but grin.

The harness doesn’t go far, just dropped next to the bed, and on this night, for the first but not the last time, you get to use it twice.

[batboysanonymous]

Obsession

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand was the most powerful High Lord in history, but when it came to you—he was nothing but a male on his knees, willing to destroy worlds just to touch you again.

TW: Rhys with a thigh kink?

A/n: I got a little spicy with this one, enjoy ;)

Rhysand had never been a patient male.

Especially not when it came to you.

He’d always been obsessive—possessive in a way that was dark and all-consuming, though he never restrained you. No, he was never one to cage you. He worshipped you too much for that. He wanted you wild, untamed, powerful. But gods,did he love knowing that no matter where you went, no matter who you fought alongside in the ring, no matter how many eyes followed you when you entered a room—you belonged to him.

And since you’d started training more with Cassian and Azriel, since the hours spent in the sparring ring had sculpted your thighs into something stronger, firmer, Rhys had only grown worse.

It had started subtly. The way his eyes would burn with an intensity that made your breath hitch whenever you moved—whenever you stretched after training, whenever you slid into his lap, whenever you so much as existed in his presence. Then came the possessive touches—the way his hands lingered on your thighs longer, the way his fingers traced along the muscles, the way he gripped them when he kissed you as if he needed proof that they were real.

Now?

Now, he had no restraint at all.

The moment you stepped into your shared chambers after another brutal training session, sweat still clinging to your skin, leathers molding perfectly to every curve of your body, Rhys was already moving. Already reaching.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you.

"Take these off," he rasped, his fingers curling over your waistband, voice rough, almost desperate. "Now."

You arched a brow, amused despite the molten heat pooling low in your stomach. "No hello, no how was training, darling?"

Rhys let out a dark, low growl, his violet eyes flashing with something primal, something almost dangerous. "Take. Them. Off."

A slow smile curled your lips. "Make me."

Something snapped in him.

In an instant, he had you pinned against the nearest wall, shadows curling around your wrists, trapping you there—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold. Enough to claim.

"You’ve been torturing me for weeks," he murmured, pressing his body against yours, his voice dark silk. "Strutting around in these damned leathers, training like a goddess forged for war, letting these thighs—these fucking perfect thighs—taunt me, knowing exactly what they do to me."

His hands skimmed down your sides, slow, deliberate, before grasping your thighs in his palms, thumbs pressing into the muscle like he was savoring the way they flexed beneath his touch.

You shuddered, biting your lip.

"Tell me," he purred, dragging his mouth over your jaw, "do you have any idea how many times I've watched you in that ring, fists clenched, trying so hard not to drag you away?"

His fingers tightened, squeezing, stroking.

"Do you know how many times I've imagined dropping to my knees in front of everyone, right there in the training ring, worshipping these thighs the way they deserve?"

Heat flared through you, a sharp, unbidden gasp escaping your lips.

His smirk was wicked. "Oh, you like that, don’t you?"

You refused to answer, refused to give him the satisfaction, but Rhys was relentless. His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "You like knowing that I’ve barely had a coherent thought for weeks because all I can think about is you—" He dragged his mouth down the column of your throat, biting, soothing, marking. "All I can think about is the way these thighs flex when you move, how strong they are, how fucking perfect they feel around me."

A low, needy whimper escaped before you could stop it.

Rhys groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Say it," he rasped, his hands gripping your thighs harder. "Say that they're mine. Say that you are mine."

"Yours," you whispered, and Rhys shuddered.

In the next breath, your leathers were gone—ripped apart by shadows and raw hunger. You barely had time to gasp before Rhys was dropping to his knees before you, his palms running over your bare thighs, his lips pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses to the muscle.

"Perfect," he breathed, voice wrecked. "So fucking perfect."

He squeezed, kissed, licked, bit, reveling in the way your body responded to him, in the way your breath hitched when he nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh.

"I need you," he murmured, looking up at you with violet eyes that were glazed with something dark, something devotional. "Right now."

You dragged a hand through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, watching as his eyes fluttered shut from the sensation.

"Then have me," you whispered.

A guttural sound tore from Rhys’s throat, and then—

Then he devoured you.

His lips, his tongue, his hands—all of him—worshipping, praising, ruining you against that wall. His grip on your thighs never loosened, never wavered, holding you in place as if he’d never let go. As if he couldn’t let go.

And when you shattered, when his name fell from your lips in a broken, desperate cry, he pressed his forehead against your stomach, panting, shaking.

"Mine," he murmured, voice hoarse. "My mate. My everything."

You sank to your knees, cradling his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his with all the love, all the devotion, all the longing that had been burning between you for weeks.

"Yours," you whispered again, softer this time.

And when Rhys gathered you in his arms, carrying you to bed, there was no more teasing, no more games—

Only love. Only worship.

Only you and him.

Taglist: @willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch

​​Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[luv-lock]

Angeellll my dearest writer♡ I hope you're doing well, if there's any haters not giving you a peace of mind. Just remember that a lot of us likes you!!

Okay so here's my question!

How would Alien!Reader reacts to Anissa? Cus y'know what she did to Mark in the comic- you can ignore this ask if you're not comfortable to write it❀♡

BUT if you do write about it! I would really love to see Reader going Qu mode on Anissa and 'fixes' her cus Mark didn't deserve that :'((

Okay, so first off—thank you! That means a lot, really. People like you are the reason I keep sharing my stuff.

Now, onto your question. How would Y/n react to Anissa?

So, here’s the thing—Y/N’s entire race doesn’t operate on the same moral framework as humans do. To her, sex is just another function—something as instinctual and necessary as eating or breathing. Males don’t get a say, because in her mind, that’s not how things work.

Like, imagine trying to explain to her why what Anissa did to Mark was so disgusting. Y/n wouldn’t understand why that’s bad—because in her species, the males don’t get a say in whether they want to mate or not. They’re brainless slaves. They exist to serve. To be used. She literally wouldn’t comprehend why Mark would be against sex if he was meant for it.

At first, when she hears what happened, she’d just stare at him blankly, trying to figure out why he’s so affected. Maybe it’d even irritate her a little, because what the fuck does he mean by “I didn’t want it?” Like. That’s not how it works.

But when she actually sees his reaction—sees how much it broke him, how he flinches at her touch instead of leaning into it, sees the cracks in him that weren’t there before—ohhh, that would piss her off.

Like, yeah, it pissed her off, but more in a “How dare you take what’s mine” way. Not in a moral “that’s horrible” way. In her mind, if a male is strong enough, he fights off anyone weaker than him. That’s what’s supposed to happen. The fact that Mark didn’t fight back just tells her how pathetic he is—but pathetic in a way that makes her mad rather than disgusted. How dare he let someone other than her do that to him? He’s supposed to be hers. No one else should have been able to touch him, let alone violate him. She doesn’t get why it made him upset exactly, but she understands enough to know that it enrages her.

Because, see, Y/N is a monster in the truest sense of the word. Sure, she’s intelligent, but emotionally, she’s an animal first and foremost. Cold, cunning, but still ruled by primal instincts. She knows how to act like a human when it suits her, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t empathize—she claims people, consumes what’s weak, and destroys what angers her. And Anissa? She’s a rival predator, a lesser one, one that dared to lay claim to something Y/N sees as hers. That’s the part that gets under her skin the most. The idea that Mark is hers—her pet, her mate, her property, her obsession—and someone had the audacity to steal from her? Yeah, no, Anissa just signed her own death sentence.

And that’s when she decides Anissa needs to suffer.

Does she rip her apart right then and there? No. That would be too easy. Too merciful. She’s the apex predator, the undisputed top of the chain, and this? This arrogant, lesser creature dared to touch what’s hers? She’d take her time.

And Anissa gets something special. Y/N tears her apart and rebuilds her into something that’s more to her liking. Her bones extend and curl, her limbs break and reform, her mouth stretches wide in a silent, soundless scream as her body becomes an amalgamation of all the failures that came before her. Clawed hands twitch, a second head nearly forms and then melts back into the grotesque new flesh as Anissa loses herself in endless, endless pain. A writhing, grotesque, ever-changing form of flesh and bone that never settles—never finds peace. A perpetual state of transformation. She molds Anissa into something that can’t even understand itself anymore. Because really, who does this bitch think she is? Did she really thought she could do whatever she wanted to him and get away with it? No, only Y/N is allowed to ruin Mark.

And then Y/N leaves her like that. Not dead—because that would be a mercy. Just awake enough to feel it, to be it, a distorted creature of twitching muscle and glossy skin that drips with its own existence.

[glamourscat]

DELPHINIUM | FEM! KAISER X READER X FEM! NESS PT 3

2939 words | more of an emotional, raw, side to their connection | smut at the end | PT 1 | PT2 | PT4

Kaiser didn't like presents. She justified it by saying, “I am rich already. I can buy whatever pleases me. I do not need cheap shit.” But what she really meant was that, after growing up with a mother who abandoned her as soon as she was able to, stuck with an abusive father, she had no place, no need and no desire for gifts. A gift was, simply put, a reminder of everything she had wanted and everything she had been denied.

And so, she kept on walking in the Munich's snowy streets. Christmas lights filling the night with colorful sparkles, an ironic contrast to her black and white current state of mind. Her head was down, lost in a spiral of too many thoughts. Ness. And you. She had spent months trying to push you both away. Some would call it toxic; she called it survival instinct.

She picked fights on purpose, as if conflict was the only way she could keep control over her mind and heart. And yet, she hated it. Hated the way confusion and anger tinted your face. Hated the way hurt flickered in Ness’s eyes. Seven months now, a relentless push and pull, a lioness toying with her preys.

The sex was mind-blowing. Intense. Unlike anything she had ever experienced, with men or women alike. She couldn’t get enough. She needed more of you, like she needed air. More kisses, more of Ness between her legs. She needed it all, and for how greedy that might seem to some, she couldn't stop. And that’s what terrified her most. The realization that she couldn’t live without this anymore. That football was no longer the sole center of her world. That, for once, two people had slipped past her walls, stubborn enough to make her drop her guard. To let her laugh in ways she had never been allowed to before. To dream. To hope. And it fucking terrified her.

The door to her apartment opened too easily. For a moment, she stood at the entrance, keys in hand, confusion flickering through her mind. Had she forgotten to lock it? No, she hadn’t.

Her footsteps turned quiet, calculated. Fight or flight kicking in. Keys gripped in one hand, an umbrella in the other raised like a weapon. She heard hushed whispers from the living room, her brain barely processed it before she moved. Kicking the door open, swinging the umbrella wildly.

“Get the fuck out!” she screamed, only to be met with other screams.

“What the actual fuck—” you shouted, voice cracking, ducking just in time to avoid getting hit square in the forehead, one arm instinctively thrown out to catch Ness, who had nearly collapsed behind you.

What the hell?

“What the fuck are you two doing in my place? Are you out of your goddamn minds?” Kaiser snapped, still breathless, heart pounding in her chest as her icy sharp blue eyes darted between you and Ness.

“We—” Ness panted, clutching at her chest. “We… Well, we came to see you.”

“How did you get in?” Kaiser's tone was sharp, accusatory.

“I picked the lock,” you answered nonchalantly, as if breaking and entering on Christmas Eve was a casual bonding activity.

Kaiser stared. Wide-eyed. Dumbfounded. Were you actually this fucking stupid?

There was a beat of silence before she burst into laughter, a full, uncontrollable laugh that echoed through the room. But it wasn’t long before the laughter cracked, mixing into quiet sobs.

“Kaiser?” Ness whispered, uncertain, stepping forward hesitantly. “I’m sorry—we shouldn’t have—”

“I’m not sorry,” you interrupted, earning a sharp side-eye from Ness, the unspoken ‘what the hell, girl?’ loud in her eyes.

“You ignored us,” you continued, voice steady. “No calls. No messages. Since we broke off for the holidays, you’ve pretended we don’t exist. That’s not just fucked up, it’s disrespectful.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to—”

“Cut the self victimizing crap,” you snapped, stepping closer. “Enough. You think we don’t know? That we don’t understand? We know you had a shitty upbringing. We know things haven’t been normal for you. But guess what? We’re still here. We want you, Kaiser. We want you in this. So stop. Stop fucking running away from us.”

“You don’t understand!” Kaiser screamed, her voice raw, cracking under the weight of emotion. “You don’t fucking understand!”

Her breathing was heavy, hands curled into fists at her sides. Her chest ached from the force of everything she was trying to hold back.

“I don’t deserve this,” she muttered, voice hoarse. “I don’t deserve nice things. I don’t deserve to be put up with. My nasty attitude, my fucking walls, my inability to—to just… I don’t deserve it.”

Silence.

Then, Ness moved first. Gentle, careful steps as if she was approaching a wounded animal. Stepping forward until she was close enough to reach for Kaiser’s right hand, gently taking it in hers.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Ness whispered, her voice soft but firm. “Not for us.”

Kaiser’s lips quivered. Her entire body trembled.

You closed the distance, taking her left hand into yours.

“You can be an absolute fucking nightmare,” you murmured, though, your voice was soft, a bit teasing. “But you’re our nightmare. For how cringy that might sound. We want you. Your sarcastic comebacks. Your shitty attitude. Your temper. And the soft kisses when you know we are feeling down. The gentle caresses. The hugs. The shared whispers in the night. We want it all.”

And with your words, just like that, the dam broke.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .   ⁺     ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 

You do not know how long it lasted. You just know that by the end of it, all three of you ended up curled together on Kaiser’s bed. After more tears, more kisses, more words (some harsh, some reassuring) one thing was certain: you wanted this. Which was funny, really, because just months ago you would have dreaded the idea of even walking past Kaiser. But now? Now, you could barely be away from her for more than a few days. From her. From Ness. from this intoxicating mess. 

You were the first to wake, and so, you took the moment to look around. The room was so Kaiser. Clean walls, refined, chic, just like her. A few shelves displayed her trophies and awards. But what caught your attention, enough to carefully sneak out from Kaiser’s grip, was the bulletboard against the wall.

It was covered with pictures. Of her. Of the team. But mostly, of the three of you. Moments frozen in time, outings, after matches, in bed, though none of you had ever called those moments what they really were. A relationship in all but name. There were candid shots, intimate ones and even polaroids from one particularly reckless, spicy night. Maybe it was the fact your brain hadn’t fully woken up 100% yet, but for once, Kaiser’s intentions felt clear. She could push, she could run, but she was holding onto this just as much as you and Ness were. And if last night hadn’t solidified it, now it surely did. 

“You let your eyes wander too much.”

The quietness of a morning voice made you jump. Warm hands wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into a familiar, toned body.

“Damn you…” you scoffed, though amused, hand resting over your chest, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Hmm, yeah, damn me. Way to greet the birthday girl,” Kaiser teased, voice still thick with sleep. She leaned in, her lips brushing over your neck before she bit down lightly.

A soft whine left you as you tilted your head, giving her more room. “Right, can’t forget it’s the princess’s birthday today.”

“Queen,” she corrected smugly, her blue eyes opening to stare at you with an intensity even now you are not fully used to. “Get it right, peasant.”

“Right, right. My mistake, your majesty. How ever shall I be forgiven?” you mused, matching the playful undertone of the moment.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Kaiser murmured, hands slipping under your shirt, cold fingers ghosting on your skin. But before either of you could push it further, someone clearing her throat interrupted the moment.

Both of you turned towards the bed.

Ness lay there, tangled in blankets, eyes barely open, but her face was already burning. “It’s barely 9am. Must you two flirt this early?” she groaned, voice laced with sleep and embarrassment. And arousement. 

Kaiser chuckled, blue eyes sarcastic as ever. “What? Are you jealous?”

Ness shifted under the covers, her red face betraying her. “I—I am not—”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Aw, Ness, we can’t help it if our queen is demanding attention so early in the morning.”

Ness shot you a weak glare but ultimately sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m going to need breakfast before I deal with you two.”

“I agree,” you said, stretching slightly. “Birthday girl, what’s your royal stance ?”

Kaiser smirked. “Breakfast in bed sounds nice.”

“But…” Kaiser continued, dragging out her words, her voice dipping lower as she reached for you and Ness too this time. Hands moving to caress both of your thighs. “I wouldn’t mind working up… a different kind of appetite first.”

Kaiser only laughed at Ness's flustered state, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before finally stepping back from the two of you. “Come on then, peasants. Make yourselves useful. I’ll be expecting something worthy of a queen.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .   ⁺     ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 

Well, she did say she was in a mood for a different kind of appetite after all. 

So, when Ness found herself sucking on Kaiser’s breasts and you, with your face in between her legs, you had nothing more to say. You both worked meticulously. Ness with her tongue circling and sucking Kaiser’s pink nipple, making the blonde moan loudly. But when your tongue meets her clit, gently sucking, teasing. Slipping up and down, just enough to go past her fold and tease her entrance she grew even louder.

Her head was thrown back on the pillow as she raised her hips desperately in search and need of more. Her pale hand going in your hair, pushing your head deeper in her pussy as she grinded her face against it. Lord, it was filthy. And you loved it. The way she was letting go and yet, still holds on that control that only she knows how to. The way she looked so hot, with her legs spread, pale skin against the satin blue sheets. Your fingers teased her hole slightly, circling the edge around it as your mouth worked on her clit. 

“Fuck.. yes, more– more. Don't stop” Kaiser whines, moving to kiss Ness in a frenzy. In need to let out that pent up energy in her bones. But despite her pleading, her request, you stopped. Earning an almost offended glare by her.

“What the h–” 

“We have a surprise for you. Close your eyes” you say gently squeezing her thigh. Surprisingly, she did not protest, and did as you asked. 

And suddenly the roles were reversed once again. Your back finds its place on the mattress, Kaiser straddling your lap and Ness behind her. She opened her eyes and looked at the scene. Both of you. With your strap on. At the same time. 

“Happy birthday to me indeed” she says looking to the ceiling smugly, letting out a chuckle.

“Spread your legs for us” you whisper softly, holding onto her hips. And with her permission, the tip of the two pink strap on slowly started to sink in simultaneously in Kaiser’s pussy. 

A loud moan left the girl’s lips as she was being filled so well it was almost overwhelming, no matter how many times they tried. It will always be so beautifully fulfilling. Your hips set the pace, steady, gentle. As you take care to drag the toy deep enough to make her feel everything, alternating with Ness back and forth.

Kaiser was a mess. A fucking mess. She couldn’t think, could barely even breathe, with the way her body trembled between you and Ness. The fullness was unbearable in the best way, the stretch of both your strap ons inside her making her toes curl against the soft bed sheets. Every time one of you moved, the other stayed deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside her like you were taking turns pulling her apart piece by piece.

“Oh—fuck,” Kaiser gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rocked forward, only to have Ness tug her back against her chest, keeping her locked in place. She could feel Ness’s breath on the back of her neck, hot and teasing.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Ness murmured, dragging her hands down Kaiser’s stomach, feeling every tense muscle. “Look at you, spreading your legs like a good girl.”

Kaiser let out a half-moan, half scoff, wanting to deny it, but the words sent a shiver down her spine. “Shut up,” she muttered, though it lacked any bite. 

You chuckled, rolling your hips up again, slow, deliberate. “Still so stubborn.” Her lips were parted, her pupils blown wide, a flush creeping down her chest. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to act like you don’t love this?”

She did love it. God, she fucking needed it. But admitting that was dangerous, wasn’t it?

Ness didn’t give her time to think nor to answer though. With a smirk, she shifted her hips, thrusting forward in sync with you, deeper, harder, faster. And the sound that left Kaiser’s lips was downright obscene.

Ness giggled behind her, placing soft kisses along her jaw and her neck, while squeezing her tits at the same time. “You sound so pretty when you moan. Damn it, I want to breed you so bad right now.”

Kaiser bit her lip, a desperate attempt to hide the pathetic sound that was about to escape, but you weren’t having that. You grabbed her hips, steadying her above you before slamming up, a little harder, a little faster than before, and she broke.

Her back arched, her thighs tightening around your waist as a strangled moan left from deep within her. Ness followed your lead, matching your thrusts once more. The wet sounds of Kaiser’s pussy, the rhythm of both your hips moving in sync, the way her body trembled between you. 

She was so ravishingly beautiful.

“You wanna come?” You whispered, dragging your thumb across her clit, pressing down just enough to make her twitch. To make her go even more crazy. 

Kaiser nodded frantically, any last bit of defiance slipping away. “Y-Yeah—fuck, yeah, please—”

“Look at you,” Ness teased, her voice dripping with amusement as she kept her hold on Kaiser by squeezing her breasts more, keeping her from squirming away. “Begging so sweetly. Where’s that usual attitude, huh?”

Kaiser glared at her over her shoulder, but it was weak, especially when you angled your hips just right.

“You two– are truly– just.. Fuck, screw you two,” she groaned, though her words lacked any bite

You grinned, leaning up to kiss her, swallowing her next moan as you both fucked her through it. “Sure, later. But for now, let us screw you, pretty.”

You and your fucking mouth– 

She came so hard she saw stars, her thighs shaking, her nails drawing lines down your back.You two fucked her through the aftershocks, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure until she went completely limp in your arms. Until she was pretty sure her satin sheets were as good as ruined. 

For a while, no one said anything. There was nothing to say. Just the quiet hum of nature outside the window, the weight of Kaiser’s body pressed between you and Ness and the smell of sex lingering in the air. It just felt… right.

It was Ness who finally spoke, her voice soft. “You’re not kicking us out tomorrow morning, are you?”

Kaiser blinked, staring at the ceiling.

She wanted to say yes. It was her instinct. To push you two once again away, to never let anything get too serious. But she didn’t want to leave. Not really. Not after last night. Not after what had just happened. 

You moved beside her, watching her carefully. Your voice is quiet.  “Kaiser?”

“I—” She exhaled sharply, rolling onto her side, hiding her face into your neck. While her hand reached for Ness’s hand in between the sheets. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” you murmured, running your fingers through her blue ends.

Ness kissed her back, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. We don’t know what we're doing either.”

Kaiser sighed. For a moment, the fear crept back in. But then you kissed the top of her head. Ness squeezed her hip. And she knew.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

She didn’t say it. None of you did. But it was there, in the way you pulled the blanket over her, in the way Ness traced light patterns on her back, in the way months ago she put those pictures up and told herself ‘it’s just for decor’ but they have been up for months.For the first time in a very long time, Kaiser let herself believe it. That this was real and that it was meant to stay,

epilogue soon :3

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[elodieunderglass]

I was digging through the old Killie-posting at the reminder of a recent ask (it's fun reading the older stuff now that you've thoroughly Gotten Me and I'm invested), and I wanted to ask: there's a mention in a post talking about Thunder and Killie's relationship that "the thing about Thunder is he’s the one who started it when you do the psychic-plugging-in-thing with him, he makes you a slightly worse person, and Killie’s already awful" (you, a month ago)

and. is that. is that why Killie bites people. and also why does Killie bite people. and also please talk more about Killie biting people???

(Killie the jockey OC, who has a bit of a nipping problem, and this post about his beautiful relationship with O Holy Thunder.)

Ah, unfortunately for everyone, Killie’s impulses to biting and kicking are because he is a wild horse predate his rancid racehorse frenemy.

Picture this: Republic of Ireland, the 1990s, around the time of the ceasefire. You have an English mother, ginger hair and the build of a half-starved pixie, which despite the context of everyone knowing you’re a member of the fifth generation of a large and well-known family of jockeys, is still small as hell. You are the pride and joy of your father’s heart, and he loves you, but also hits you with a jockey’s whip, because he loves you. Your mother seems alarmed by reminders of your existence and seems to wish that she hadn’t had children at all. You are the Oldest and responsible for the others, but do not really understand them. You and your twin see people’s deaths sometimes maybe. You live with horses and can read their minds, but you are also told not to love them, because they aren’t yours. It’s rural and everyone’s broke and you have a stammer. You are good at two things: maths, and horses, but people persist in talking to you about other things regardless. In a Catholic country you are so bad at Catholicism that you fuck up your own first communion. You are violently, relentlessly, unspeakably competitive. You already have the prided imperviousness to pain and toughness of constitution that will make you a champion. You are, it must be said, extraordinarily tiny.

And then people expect you to go to school about it. Where you are autistic in a way detectable to every schoolchild wishing to start an early bullying career in unenlightened times.

So the first time someone tries something, you don’t understand; and your father tells you to come back with his blood on your mouth. So the next time someone tries something, you simply get him on the floor and try to take his ear off. Simple. Clear. Elegant. Sorts everything out. People make too much fuss about things, really.

You develop a fairly vile temper and tendency to fight first, rather than trying to interpret the nuance of how people are trying to tease you.

You grow up into a sport in a time where a certain amount of scuffling went on in the changing rooms. That was how it’s always been.

In the column of Things On Your Side, you have an identical twin, who has somehow managed to fill in every gap, do all the talking, drag you through the worst bits and somehow include you in things like Having Friends. Much like an emotional support dog for a cheetah, you share the burden of emotional regulation with him, and fight for each other, and communicate constantly. And then he goes.

You are 4’10, and a champion athlete, always angry, impervious to pain, and will do anything to win…

And you also bite the horses on the ear sometime. Old and problematic horse handling trick.

Thunder started it.

[jiniretracha]

𝐰𝐡𝐚���� 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠? - 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst!!!

summary: You worked at Kim Publishing, a place you could call home since the very start. But when it faced bankruptcy, your beloved company was forced to merge with Bang Editorials an evil empire with no vision on anything that Kim Publishing represented. And that's how you met your nemesis: Felix Lee. The bane of your existence. But everything fell into place like the pieces of a puzzle when your bosses had a marvellous idea: a new position as manager director, who had to submit their report in order to be chosen for the job. And your archenemy had the same purpose as you did: get that job one way or another.

word count: 4.6k

ps: I came with a new series totally and utterly inspired/based on The Hating Game. Pls feel free to let me know if you wanna be on this series taglist !

the moment y'all been waiting for, enjoy ;)

masterlist // series masterlist // ko-fi

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

The road to Felix’s stepbrother’s wedding was very long.

During the car ride there, you tried to mentally prepare yourself that you were going to be sharing space with his family, friends and personal life. What if you encountered yourself with an ex girlfriend of his?

You blinked a couple of times to shake the bad feeling that the thought gave you. 

You sighed and looked at him. “So… what do I need to know about your family?” you asked him, arching an eyebrow expectantly. 

Felix smiled nervously as his hands fumbled a little with the steering wheel. “My mom’s great” he deadpanned. You arched an eyebrow and he could sense that the answer wasn’t enough for you. “She will love you and tell you that she wants to keep you forever, I’m sure so… don’t worry” he chuckled. 

I wasn’t worried, you wanted to reply, but you knew that that would’ve been a lie. 

You smiled at the thought of his mother liking you, though. You felt somehow comforted by that thought.

“My dad on the other hand…” he said and your heart started to beat faster. “He’s um… complicated” Felix finished. “Last time I was home, we had somewhat of a fight”

You eyed him. “What about?” 

“A lot of things” he exhaled. “I left med school and he got real mad at me and well, I was dealing with my own shit as well. I was dealing with the fact that I disappointed my dad and my girlfriend had left me and he and Chris were being assholes about it”

You frowned a little. You weren’t going to lie that the fact that he mentioned an ex girlfriend made your brain short circuit a little bit. 

You pressed your lips together and smacked them. “It’s so hard to imagine you with a girlfriend, to be honest. I always pictured you as the type to swipe right on tinder and then say the cliché: let’s not put a label on this, babe” you said, mocking his voice tone.

He chuckled. “Well, sometimes you’re wrong” he sighed, arching his eyebrows. 

You looked away to the window and tried to swallow down the stupid jealousy that bloomed out of literally nowhere. 

He was allowed to have ex girlfriends for fuck sake’s. Then, why the hell did it make you so jealous?

As far as you knew, you didn’t like him in the first place, right?

Right?

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂��⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

You arrived at the little cabin complex that Chris had booked for the guests and you gasped as he parked the car and your eyes travelled all over the place. 

“Wow, your stepbrother’s fucking rich!” you said, wide-eyed and in pure awe. 

He chuckled as he stepped out of the car. “Nah, his girlfriend’s family is, though”

“Oh, makes sense” you whispered, getting out of the car yourself.

You looked up into the sky and smiled.

“It’s going to snow” you murmured.

He looked down at you and frowned. “How do you know that?” he asked, as he opened the door of the complex for you to go in first, chivalrously. 

You scoffed as you walked inside the reception, shaking your head. “Because it’s a thing. I can smell weather” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He chuckled. “That would make you the craziest X-Men of all time” he said to you and it made you shake your head with a smile. 

“That was a ver nerdy comparison” you pointed out. You rang the little bell that was on the desk and the receptionist appeared. 

“Hey, good evening guys!” a weird guy came walking towards the front desk. He had an eerie looking smile on his face and his eyes were weirdly blown out. “How can I help you?”

“Hey, man. Felix Lee. We have two rooms booked” Felix said, sliding his ID towards him. 

The guy gasped. “Oh! The Lee’s, yeah, of course” he said. “Um, let me check” he sighed, typing away on his computer. He looked back at you and you knew that the face he was sporting you wasn’t one that carried good news.

“What is it?” you immediately asked.

“I am so sorry…” he trailed off and you could sense what this was about. “I only have one room available”

Great. Just great.

“Um, what’s your name?” you asked him.

“Jeffrey”

“Jef! Great”

“No, Jeffrey. My friends call me Jef, and well, we’re not friends” Jeffrey said, sternly.

You narrowed your eyes and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Jeffrey” you deadpanned. “We really need those two rooms that he booked because as you see- we’re- look- two people. That means two rooms” you rambled on and Felix just stared at you with an amused smile on his face. 

“I know, miss, and I apologise, truly. I have two weddings this weekend” Jeffrey explained.

“I know, we're in one of them” Felix replied. 

Jeffrey gasped. “Oh! You’re the couple? Congratulations, you look very good together” he cooed. 

“Oh no!”

“No, no, no”

You both said loudly together, at the same time.  

“It’s my brother’s- stepbrother’s wedding. That’s all we came for, alright?” Felix explained gently to the receptionist. “And we need that room-”

“Alright this is getting on my last fucking nerve. Jeffrey, please give us the key to the room and we’ll gladly take it” you said, sticking your hand out, palm facing upwards.

Jeffrey smiled and dropped the key in your hand.

“Thank you”

“Room 216, second floor” he explained to the both of you. 

“Great, have a good day” you said and walked towards the elevator.

“You too!” 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

You unlocked the door and gasped when you walked inside the room. 

“Holy smokes, this place is amazing” you cooed. 

You dropped your bag on the bed and saw the small couch next to it.

“You…” you said, pointing to it. “...will sleep there” 

Felix chuckled and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, Cupcake. Don’t be ridiculous” he said, dropping his bags on the floor. He checked the hour on his phone and placed it on the nightstand. “Okay, we have… half an hour until rehearsal dinner. Do you want to try the shower first?” he asked you.

“Sure” you nodded and quickly grabbed some clothes before closing yourself inside the amazing bathroom that the room had. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

After you finished your shower, you let him try it as well. 

You dressed up in a deep red dress and left your leather jacket to wear for later on the bed. You applied some make up, trying to be the most discreet with it.

A little mascara and red lipstick to combine with the dress wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

After applying the mascara, you went to grab the lipstick. You heard the door of the bathroom opening and your eyes darted towards him through the mirror.

He came out from the bathroom wearing only a towel, his naked chest on full display. 

You tried to keep your composure at bay but deep down, your heart started racing to a point that you were scared he was able to hear the noise. 

You raised the lipstick to your lips, trying to shake the thoughts that were creeping in. He came towards you and grabbed your arm.

“Flamethrower?” he asked. 

You blinked a couple of times, your gaze meeting his through the mirror. “I… like red” you said quietly and he chuckled. 

“So do I”

And that was your undoing.

You turned around and grabbed his neck, pulling him down to your lips, kissing him fiercely. Felix’s breath hitched at the back of his throat but was quick to grab your waist and pull you closer to his naked body that was only covered with that towel he wrapped around his waist before leaving the bathroom. 

You pulled away and exhaled against his lips. “This does not mean we’re okay” you whispered and kissed him again, your nails digging against his shoulder blades. 

Felix smirked against your mouth and turned you around, walking you both towards the bed, his hands digging down towards your thighs. He pushed your dress up your body, and you helped him discard it, throwing it to the floor. 

You stood in front of him in only a matching set of lacy black bra and panties. His eyes were blown wide with lust and his hands went to grab your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he greedily grabbed a handful of skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he whispered before his mouth fell onto your lips and you moaned against his. 

He bent down a little, placing his palms under your thighs and hoisted you up in his arms, picking you up so that your legs could wrap around his waist.

You chuckled against his lips and pulled away. “Deja vu, huh?”

“You read my mind” he smirked and placed you on the bed, laying you down and crawling on top of you. 

His hands kind of had a mind of his own, he didn’t know what to do with them. 

They crawled up your thighs, gripping your flesh, then up your stomach, caressing your soft skin. Up to your covered breasts, his hands enveloping them and squeezing them, drawing moans from you, against his lips. 

He pulled away from your mouth and his fell to your neck, mouthing at the skin there on your neck. “Shit… you’re so soft” he moaned, his teeth digging and pulling. 

Your back arched against his chest and your fingers carded through his hair, pulling on it and drawing a whimper from his lips.

You gasped and he pulled his face up, the pink in his cheeks made you chuckle. “Are you into hair-pulling, Felix Lee?” you asked him, breathily.

“Shut up” he murmured and devoured your mouth into a kiss once again. 

You sighed into his mouth and then you felt his fingers creeping up under your back, and you arched it, knowing what he was about to do.

His fingers expertly unhooked your bra with one hand and you helped him take it away as he flung it behind him without a care. 

His eyes zeroed on your breasts and his hands automatically flew to grasp them, squeezing them with fervour. “Fuck… look at these” he sighed. You moaned and dug your nails against his shoulders. “I so wanna fuck them…” he whispered through hooded eyes. “...but I’ll save that for some other time”

Some other time… interesting.

Felix didn’t let you have time to think because he dove into your chest and enveloped one of your tits in his mouth. His palm grabbed at it as he continued sucking on the nipple while your legs thrashed on the bed and your mouth continued dripping with moans. 

“I’m fucking obsessed with these” he whispered, going to assault the other one with his mouth. “Everytime you came into the office wearing those little dresses with these pushed up in your little bras… my God, baby” he mumbled nonsense into your chest. 

“Felix…” you sighed.

“What?”

“Please…” you whispered, giving him doe eyes. 

“What do you want, baby, hm?” he asked, crawling up further and kissing your lips sweetly in one single peck. “You always go around throwing big girl words towards me and now… you’re all dumb” he chuckled, biting your lip and tugging on it. 

“I…” you stammered and clenched your legs around his waist, that was still covered by that stupid towel. 

“Yeah?”

“Go lower” you said, feeling your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

He let out a chuckle and immediately lowered his mouth to your chest and trailed it down towards your stomach. His fingers hooked on the hem of your panties and oh so slowly he pulled them down your legs. 

Felix threw the fabric on the floor and parted your legs with his hands. You saw him bite his lip and without a warning he dove his face right into your core, making you gasp and let out a high pitched moan.

You were sure the neighbors were aware of what you two were doing exactly. 

His tongue dragged over your opening, practically drowning in the wetness seeping out of you. 

You felt the vibrations from his own moans as he continued lapping at you like a starved man. His thumb played with your clit, rolling circles tightly around the nub. You pulled on his hair and he moaned loudly against your clit, his tongue curling inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lix… fuck–” you sobbed and his fingers pressed even tighter against your thigh. 

That new nickname you have him did numbers inside his brain, you probably didn’t realise what you said. 

He dragged his tongue over your hole and over your clit in one simple go and that was your undoing.

“Shit, I’m coming” you yelled and a few seconds later you came on his tongue.

Felix happily lapped at your orgasm, happily humming against your core. He pressed one last kiss to your pubic bone and stood up from the bed. 

You laid there, gasping for air, trying to regain your breath. You looked up at him and saw him standing in front of you. 

With a little groan, you sat up on your elbows and closed your legs, which you realised had remained open to his eyes. 

He dug a finger on the tie of the towel and let it pool on his feet. You couldn’t help but gasp a little at the sight of him , naked in front of you in all his glory. 

He took his hand down, stroking his own erection, his thumb swiping over his drooling tip. 

“Can I suck you off?” you asked him, biting your lip and puffing your chest out to stick out your tits. 

He groaned and you saw his hand jerking himself off faster. “No, baby. As soon as that mouth of yours touches me, I’m done for. I need to be inside of you” he explained breathily to you around a groan. 

You smiled at him and grabbed his shoulders pulling him towards you and on top of you.

Felix sighed when he felt the tip probing at your entrance and then smacked his hand on the duvet, making you jump.

“Motherfucker” he groaned.

“What? What’s going on?” you aksed, confused.

“I don’t have condoms” Felix replied angrily. Mostly at himself. 

“You’re telling me you brought me here without packing condoms, are you kidding me?” you snorted.

He glared at you. “Now’s not the time, Y/N” he said. 

“Wait, isn’t this complex one for married couples? I’m sure there’s gotta be a pack here somewhere” you told him.

His eyes widened and he seemed to realise that you were probably right. He let you move, turning around on your stomach and opened the drawer from the nightstand next to the bed. As you were searching it, you felt Felix grab at your ass and let his hand slap your cheek softly.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Oh, nothing. Just having fun” he acted nonchalant about it.

You gasped once you found a little pack there. “Found it! And they’re not expired” you said, handing it to him.

“Great” he mumbled, grabbing it quickly and ripping one of the packets. He quickly rolled it on his cock and went back to position himself above you. “You ready, baby?”

You bit your lip at the word baby coming from him. He had called you that before and you weren’t going to lie, because your heart tripled its size. 

You nodded shyly. “Yeah” you whispered.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as he pressed his cockhead against your entrance and slowly pushed it until he was buried inside. He bottomed out and he groaned, letting his forehead drop against your shoulder. You moaned loudly, clenching around him. 

“Oh shit, fuck, baby you’re so fucking tight” he cursed against your skin. 

“Felix, move!” you whined, thrashing your legs around on the bed.

He grabbed your waist. “No, wait. Stay fucking still” he said, looking into your eyes. “You’re squeezing me so fucking tight I’m barely holding it together” 

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so fucking big” you gasped.

“Are we seriously arguing right now? With me literally inside of you?” he frowned, still out of breath. 

You rolled your eyes. “Please fucking move!” 

He made you gasp as he thrusted harshly against your g-spot and he started hammering it with fervour as he moved his hips furiously. You moaned, throwing your head back while your hands were busy with his back, raking nails over his skin. You were sure you were going to leave a mark.

You squealed when he grabbed your legs and pushed them up to rest on your chest, finding a deeper angle to hit the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Shit, baby, you’re so wet” he chuckled as he saw your pussy sputtering out wetness that splashed against his thighs. “Do I make you this wet?”

His fingers circled your clit and you arched your back violently. “God- f-fuck” you groaned, pressing your head against the pillow as he continued to thrust inside of you rapidly. 

Felix frowned and smacked your clit, making you yelp. “Answer me”

“Y-yes, you make me so fucking wet, Felix” you cried out.

Felix smirked and bent his body so that his chest was touching yours. “Good fucking girl” he whispered before he devoured your mouth into a fiery kiss, practically fucking it with his tongue while he fucked your pussy at the same time. 

“I’m- Lix” you moaned and he mirrored your moan.

“Fuck, say that again” he whispered against your mouth. “Come on, say it” he said, trailing his hand towards your center. 

He started rubbing tight circles against your clit again and you gasped, your fingers carding through his hair and gripping it. “Lix… I’m gonna come, baby” you whimpered and then kissed him, drowning his moans of pleasure. 

Felix started slamming his hips even faster and harder against yours, you were sure the slapping sound could be heard through the entire complex. “Please, come around me” he begged. 

The sound of his begging was enough for you to make you fall apart on his length, coating him completely. 

He thrusted harshly and sloppily a couple of times and he was quick to follow your orgasm, filling you up completely. With a content sigh, he gently and carefully let his body drop against his as you both gasped out for air. 

“That was…” you exhaled.

“Fucking amazing” he finished for you. 

You chuckled and nodded. “yeah, I agree” you said and he smiled against your skin.

He pushed his face up and his eyes searched yours. 

Felix couldn’t let his feelings show, he couldn’t let you know, but he was feeling on top of the world. It had never felt like this. And he knew that once he had you once, he would never get enough of you. And he was absolutely right. 

He was completely enamoured. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, which you reciprocated, feeling your toes curling at the loving gesture.

With a groan, he pulled away from you and laid next to you, caressing your arm and back. “You feel okay? I didn’t hurt you or go too far?” he asked with a worried tone. 

You chuckled and placed your hand on his cheek, pressing a kiss to his nose. “No, it was perfect”

He smiled at you and brought you even closer to his warm body.

You eyed the clock on the wall behind him and gasped, sitting up. 

“What is it?” he asked, worried, sitting up as well. 

“We’re gonna be so fucking late for rehearsal dinner” you said, covering your mouth with your palm. 

He chuckled and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you down. “Stay here” he said and you hesitantly obeyed. 

You sighed. “But what will your parents think? ‘Oh, hi! Mr and Mrs Lee. I am so sorry that we missed your son’s rehearsal dinner. We were too busy fucking each other to even realise what time it was’” you said with sarcasm.

He laughed and shook his head. “I promise you, nobody will care” he replied. “I can just text them a message saying that we got stuck in traffic or some shit like that and we’ll see them tomorrow at the wedding” Felix told you.

“Yeah, but what if they find out we already checked in?” you asked him, pushing a curl out of his forehead.

He frowned. “Why do you care so much about what my parents think?” he asked you. 

“Well, I’m a people-pleaser” you answered like it was the most obvious thing. “I meet people and my brain just- poof, the thought of pleasing them just appears magically”

“Yeah, but why?”

You blinked. “I just told you the entire logic of it, hon. Okay, but wait, why wouldn’t you want to please them? They’re your parents after all” you asked him. 

Felix just sighed. “I don’t know. I learned a long time ago that that’s it’s impossible” he said with a tight lipped smile.

You hummed. “Okay, sore subject I see. Let’s just move on” you chuckled. “I’ll ask you another question and then you’ll ask me something and then-”

“Okay, I understood, Cupcake. Shoot” he laughed. 

“Mmhh…” you hummed in thought. “The other day, when you caught me snooping around your desk… um, I saw your planner…”

He faked a gasp. “So you admit you were indeed snooping around at my desk”

“Okay, um, don’t deflect!” you said, pushing his shoulder a little. “Well… um, I kind of saw these red marks on the margins” you told him. “Some crosses, dots, lines. What are those?” 

You saw Felix’s eyes widening a little and he looked away from you.

With a gasp, you sat up a little and hovered your face over his. “What? No! Tell me! Come on!”

He smiled at you and chuckled. “Alright, fine” he sighed. “A cross means we had a fight, the line means I made you upset… and the dot… the dot’s for when I want to kiss you”

You pulled your face back in shock and your eyes stupidly blinked quickly. “Wow” it’s all you could whisper. 

Felix just continued grinning at you, caressing your hair. 

“You’re like an OCD stalker” you replied and he laughed out loud. 

“Okay, it's my turn now” he said. 

“Alright, shoot” you said, mimicking him from earlier. 

“Tell me about your family. I feel like I’ve told you everything from me and I haven’t heard almost anything from you” he told you.

“Okay…” you nodded and laid back down on the bed, facing him. “My mom’s the best” you said and he chuckled at that. “She raised me… almost on her own. Because my dad was kind of an asshole and left us when I was about seven years old” 

He smiled gently and caressed your arm. “I’m sorry” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry. I barely remember him thankfully. And we were never really struggling because of it. My mom a couple of years ago found herself a boyfriend- well, now husband and they love each other. A lot. He’s english, so she’s kind of living over there every once in a while” you told him. 

“Well, but she’s happy, I reckon?” he asked.

“yeah, very” you replied. “Now, tell me why is Chris your stepbrother? I felt like I’ve been wanting to ask you that forever!” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s not that interesting of a story, to be honest” Felix replied.

“Tell me!”

“Okay! Okay” he giggled. “So… My mom was married to this guy whose last name was Bang. They had a kid: Chris, and when he was about a year old, his dad passed away. I never knew what it was exactly but I think he got sick at some point” Felix said. “My mom then met my dad, and had me. Chris got to keep his last name, my mom wanted that” 

“That’s such a sad story. But I’m guessing Chris has no memory of his dad so he isn’t sad” you replied, chewing on your lip. 

“No, Chris has no memory of his dad at all… but my mom…” he trailed off.

“Oh no…”

“Yeah” you sighed. “I’m guessing… I mean- I’ve always had some kind of hunch that she never got over it” 

“Oh Lix” you replied, caressing his cheek. 

Felix suddenly smiled. “I love that nickname” he said with a giggle. 

“We were having an emotional moment, Felix Lee” 

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, now it’s my turn. Right?”

“Okay, go ahead” you sighed, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Tell me something I don’t know” he said out of a sudden. “I already exposed myself with the things I write down on my planner”

“Okay…  um…” you said and your eyes widened when you remembered that. “So, when I wore that little black dress to work the other day, well… I lied about having a date with Wooyoung, I asked him later that day” you said, and then pressed your lips together to contain your laugh. 

Felix opened his mouth in surprise and chuckled.

“What? You were being presumptuous and skeptical. I panicked, alright?” you laughed. “And… and well, I had a very sexy erotic dream about you”

He gasped and sat up. “I knew it!”

“You did?” 

“Yeah, it was written all over your face. Literally your forehead said: I had a sex dream about my co-worker” he laughed.

“no it didn’t! I did not look like- okay, I probably did” you sighed in defeat. “I literally did that because I panicked and I didn’t want you to think I was a loser… you know, you said you were going to the bar too and I didn’t want you to find me alone there… it would’ve been pathetic”

“Well, you wouldn’t have been alone. I would’ve gone with you” he said softly, his knuckles caressing the apple of your cheek. 

He bent forward and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead. He pulled away and nudged your nose with his with a little smile. 

Your heart was beating so fast at the way he was looking at you. So sincere, like he had a lot of love for you. 

Love. 

He looked like he was in love with you.

You just grabbed his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips, trying to show him that you felt the same. 

Because you did. 

And there was no going back.

-

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @lattyjiji   @jeonginsleftcheek    @alrm02   @skzjiiiii   @lixies-favorite-cookie    @victoriaaf   @st4rv3lly   @noirvedette   @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @chroniclesofskz

i apologize if i can't tag you

[ourfag]

one of my favorite dimensions of ed’s character is this restless, cringing, dissatisfied image he has of himself as not-a-good-person. not a good guy. (is it significant that he never identifies himself as a bad person but always in terms defined by the ideal he feels unable to meet? maybe idk)

as far as i recall he’s the only character on the show who engages with the concept of being a good/bad person at all, outside of 1 line from pete (Pete. who questions whether a certain course of action might make them…. bad….. people….? concurrently with ed being out there in a boat with fang and struggling with the exact same thought about himself) and 1 line from stede to & about ed (right after meeting ed for the first time, as reflexive and unconditional as if he was offering ed a glass of water)

when ed says “i’m not a good person; that’s why i don’t have any friends” stede responds “i’m your friend.” doesn’t bother addressing the first part of that statement at all, bc on top of being too subjective a judgment to contradict in a way that matters, it’s just…. not that important. we don't care about that. "you're a good man, ed" was entirely there to show us the dynamic forming between him and stede and its immense contrast to how ed's used to interacting with other people. the plan that pete questioned goes through, they leave those poor suckers tied to the mast, and it's a victory. fang's advice in the face of ed's "what do i Do to Atone how do i Reverse the Bad that i Committed" spiral is to try being with himself in a non-combative, non-avoidant way. the narrative doesn't seem to give nearly half a shit about characters being Good People as it does about characters making an effort to be true to themselves. honoring the desires they know will make them happy. those are the choices that determine whether the people in their lives and their relationships with those people flourish or suffer.

in the same way stede keeps coming back to "oh god everything i do seems to hurt people. how do i prevent my existence from hurting people" ed keeps coming back to “i’m not a good person. i want to be a good person. how do i be a good person???” and finally the story answers with “WHO CAAAAARES!!!!!!! GO TOWARDS LOVE!!! QUIT TRYING TO CHECK BOXES JUST FOCUS ON LOVING AND BEING LOVED!!!!!! THE REST WILL FOLLOW!!!!!!!” and it does!!!!! it does follow. is ed teach a good person? what a useless question. ed teach is a person who chooses to love.

and im not cinema-literate enough to discern whether any of that was intended to be like a coherent intentional statement but if it is then i think it's a fucking delightful one

[ankababy]

A Home (part 17)

Part 1 Part 16

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

TW: not even exactly the mention of 🍇, not even a literal hint, just a small part of a sentence that can be read as that. You probably won’t even notice, don’t look for it.

AN: I know that the way to the Beach is way too long and y’all want the Beach already but I promise I know what I’m doing😭 This is needed I promise.

You sighed, holding onto Chishiya’s sleeve, keeping up with their pace as the three of you walked. The butterfly was long forgotten in the distance, but the thought still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. Maybe there’d be more where you were going. Maybe you’d see other little creatures, ones you could stop and admire for a few moments before Niragi crushed them.

You glanced up at him, watching as he twirled his gun around his fingers, his movements careless but precise. The way he handled the thing, the way he loved that damn gun—it made your stomach turn. He had proven exactly how much he enjoyed using it.

Still, it was Niragi.

That was just him.

You’d come to accept it, even if you didn’t like it.

“…Are we playing today?” you asked, voice soft but casual, as if you weren’t asking about potentially risking your life.

“Of course we are.” Niragi said, like it was obvious. Like it was just another part of the day.

You let out a breath, nodding. “Okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything.

Niragi suddenly pushed your head away with his hand, palm against your forehead, laughing.

You stumbled slightly but didn’t fight it, letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll.

“You’re so fucking weird.” he teased.

You pouted, rubbing your forehead.

“I wasn’t even doing anything.” you grumbled, frowning at him.

“Exactly.” he said, tapping your nose with his finger. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You sighed.

Of course Niragi found you entertaining just by existing. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t fight it. Didn’t snap at him, didn’t tell him to leave you alone.

Because, truthfully…you were used to it.

You didn’t actually mind it.

Not when he was like this.

Not when he was touching you without hurting you.

You could handle Niragi when he was annoying.

It was better than when he was violent.

Chishiya exhaled sharply beside you, clearly unamused, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than usual before he looked ahead again.

You didn’t ask what he was thinking.

You probably didn’t want to know.

“Come on.” Niragi said, throwing an arm over your shoulders again and tugging you along, as if you weren’t already walking.

And you just… let him.

You always would.

~

Your feet ached. Every step sent a dull pulse of pain through your legs, and the sun, hanging low in the sky, cast long shadows across the empty streets. You had been walking the whole day, without stopping, without food, without water, and it was finally getting to you.

You never complained.

Not really.

But right now?

You let out a soft, pathetic whine, dragging your feet as you trailed behind them. “I’m hungry…”

Nothing.

They heard you. You knew they did.

You could see Niragi’s shoulders tense slightly ahead of you, could see the way Chishiya’s head tilted just a fraction, but neither of the responded.

“I’m thirsty.” you tried again, slower this time, like they needed to understand the severity of the situation.

Still nothing.

You huffed, rubbing at your face. “…I’m tired.”

Niragi finally turned. And he looked at you like you were the most annoying thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “You’re always tired.”

Your pout deepened. “Because I never get to rest!” you whined, arms swinging at your sides. “We’ve been walking all day—without stopping!”

“And?” Niragi said, mocking. “What, you want me to carry you again?”

You paused.

Blinking.

Because well—

Now that he mentioned it…

He barked out a laugh at the look on your face, grinning. “Oh, no. No way.” He turned forward again, continuing on like you weren’t suffering. “I already did that shit once. You get one.”

You sighed, dragging your feet harder now, like they’d feel bad and slow down.

They didn’t.

You tried again.

“Chishiya…” you called, more hopeful this time, speeding up slightly to get closer to him.

But he didn’t even look at you.

“I’m not carrying you either.” he said simply.

You let out a dramatic groan. “I wasn’t asking for that!”

You totally were.

He didn’t call you out on it, though.

But Niragi did.

“She totally was.” he laughed, nudging Chishiya’s shoulder. Chishiya barely reacted, eyes set ahead.

“Just—can we stop?” you tried. “Just for a little?”

Niragi snorted. “No.”

And you nearly stomped your foot. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.” he answered so quickly, like a petulant child, before laughing again at his own stupidity.

You didn’t laugh. “You’re mean.”

“You’re slow.” he shot back. “Maybe if you moved your ass instead of complaining so much, we’d already be there.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining if I wasn’t dying!”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

You let out a frustrated little noise, throwing your hands up.

This was so unfair. He was awful.

And Chishiya? Well. He was at least less awful.

You slowed your steps again, lagging behind them, defeated. And even though you were tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and miserable—you still followed. Because you had nowhere else to go. You dragged your feet along the pavement, arms crossed over your chest, your bottom lip sticking out in a deep pout. You were hungry, thirsty, exhausted— and the worst part? You had to pee.

Badly.

And knowing these assholes, that wasn’t going to go over well.

But you had to try.

You picked up your pace a little, hurrying to close the gap between you and Chishiya. Niragi was always an asshole, but sometimes, if you were really lucky, Chishiya would at least consider listening to you.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Chishiya…” you called softly, peering up at him.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t even acknowledge you.

“…Chishiya.” you said again, more insistent this time, tugging at his sleeve.

He let out a small breath through his nose. “What.”

You blinked up at him, still pulling at his sleeve. “I have to pee.”

He was silent.

Then—

“No.”

Your mouth fell open. “What do you mean, no?”

“We’re not stopping.” he said simply.

You let out an exasperated noise, dropping his sleeve and turning your attention to Niragi instead.

He was already grinning.

You didn’t like that.

“Niragi.” you started, hopeful. “I really, really have to—”

“Pee yourself.”

You froze. Blinking. The audacity. Your brows furrowed instantly, a small gasp leaving your lips. “I am not peeing myself!”

Niragi just laughed. “Well, then hold it.”

“I can’t hold it forever!”

“Figure it out.”

You groaned. “You’re both awful.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Your eye twitched. This was so unfair. It wasn’t like you were asking for a lot! You weren’t even asking them to find a real bathroom—just a second, just to stop for one second so you could go somewhere behind a car or something.

But no.

Because they were assholes.

Evil.

Your legs pressed together slightly as you walked, and you let out another dramatic whine. “I can’t believe this.” you muttered. “You’re really making me suffer.”

“You’ll live.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. You had no choice but to keep walking. You’d have to figure it out later.

But you weren’t forgetting this.

They were going to pay for this.

You walked along behind them, practically dragging your feet, your arms swinging dramatically with every step. The sky was growing darker, the city eerily quiet, but all you could focus on was the increasingly urgent need to pee.

It was honestly becoming a crisis.

“Come onnnn.” you whined, hurrying a few steps to catch up to them again. “Can’t we stop for just five minutes?”

“No.” Chishiya replied without looking at you.

“Why not?” you protested, throwing your arms up. “It’ll be quick! I’ll be quick!”

“Still no.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Please, I’m begging you.”

Niragi snickered, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Didn’t know you’d get so desperate over something so boring.”

You shot him a glare. “It’s not boring if you’re the one who has to pee.”

“Piss your pants then.”

You gasped. “I am not going to pee myself!”

“Why not? Could be fun.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “That’s disgusting.”

Niragi just laughed.

You stomped your foot, frustrated. “You’re both being so mean to me!”

Chishiya let out a small breath through his nose. “You’ll survive.”

You whined again, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

They kept walking. You stared at their backs, your nose scrunching in frustration.

Okay. Fine. If they weren’t going to stop, then you’d just… you’d…

Wait.

If you went off to pee by yourself…

Alone.

In the dark.

In a creepy, empty city.

Your stomach sank.

You glanced nervously over your shoulder. The streets stretched on endlessly behind you, shadowed alleyways and looming buildings on either side. Even with the sky darkening, the silence was deafening.

What if something was out there? What if someone was out there?

A shiver ran down your spine.

…Maybe stopping wasn’t such a good idea.

But you really had to pee.

Your lip wobbled.

This was a dilemma.

You hurried up to them again, practically skipping to catch up.“Niragi.”

“What.”

“I don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “What, you want me to watch?”

“No!”

Chishiya sighed.

You whined, stomping your foot again. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

You huffed. “You’re both awful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi waved a hand dismissively. “Quit your bitching.”

“I’m not bitching.”

“You’re definitely bitching.”

You pouted. “I just don’t wanna go alone.”

Niragi tilted his head at you, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, to your surprise, he shoved his gun into your hands.

“There.” His lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Now you can go take care of yourself.”

You stared down at the gun in your hands. Looked back up at him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Niragi shrugged. “Point and shoot.”

You frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He stepped closer. “Unless you’d rather I come with you.”

You shoved him. “Ew! No!”

He just laughed.

You huffed, glaring at him, but your eyes dropped back down to the gun.

…Okay. You could work with this.

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but at least you’d have something with you.

You sighed, gripping the gun a little tighter. “Fine.”

Niragi snickered, and Chishiya simply kept walking, not even bothering to look back at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping off the road and into the shadows.

You could do this.

Probably.

Niragi had a habit of testing boundaries.

It wasn’t enough for him to win someone over. No, once he had someone close—once they were within arm’s reach, once they trusted him enough to look at him without fear—that’s when he started to push. He wanted to see how far he could go. How much he could get away with before you snapped, before you pushed back, before you told him to stop.

But you never did. That was the thing about you. You didn’t push back. You just took it.

Sure, you pouted, you whined, you huffed and rolled your eyes, but you never once told him to stop. You never yelled at him. You never looked at him with the kind of fear or disgust that he’d gotten used to from everyone else. Even when he scared you—and oh, he knew he scared you sometimes—you didn’t run.

You stayed.

It was fascinating.

You were fascinating.

Soft. Sweet. Easy.

Like a little wind-up doll, all dressed in pastels and wide eyes, clinging to his arm with those delicate little hands and flinching at the sound of gunfire. You forgave him far too easily, like it was second nature. Like you didn’t even think about it. He could scream in your face one minute and have you curled up against him the next, and you wouldn’t question it.

Maybe it was because you were scared.

But Niragi didn’t think that was it.

He’d seen fear. Hell, he lived for fear. He could practically taste it when it clung to the air. But you… you weren’t scared. Not really. Sure, you flinched when he got loud, and your eyes went all wide when he waved his gun around, but there was something else there, under the surface. Some quiet, unshakable belief that he wouldn’t actually hurt you.

And he wouldn’t.

Probably.

You were too fun to mess with.

Besides, you were his.

Not in a romantic sense. Not really. But in the way a cat claimed a favorite toy. Or maybe a favorite bug. One he could bat around a little, watch it squirm, see what it would do.

You made things… interesting.

And as long as you kept taking it, he wasn’t going to stop.

Why would he?

But Chishiya? Chishiya was a whole different story. Where Niragi was loud and reckless, Chishiya was quiet. The kind of person who never did anything without a reason. Every look, every word, every step was carefully measured, weighed against some invisible scale that only he could see.

Chishiya didn’t push.

He watched.

There was a kind of quiet judgment in his gaze, the kind that made people squirm without him ever needing to raise his voice. He could sit silently for hours, observing the people around him, taking in every twitch, every glance, every flicker of emotion, and somehow know exactly what made them tick.

And that made him dangerous.

You intrigued him.

You were soft. Open. Easy to read. Everything you felt was written plainly across your face, from the crinkle of your nose when Niragi teased you to the way your eyes softened when Chishiya so much as glanced in your direction. There was no mask with you. No calculation. Just pure, unfiltered emotion.

It was almost… refreshing.

Almost.

But it also made you vulnerable.

And Chishiya didn’t trust vulnerability.

He watched the way you latched onto Niragi, how you clung to his arm even after he’d scared you half to death. He watched the way you forgave. The way you trusted. The way you gave and gave and gave, even when you got nothing in return.

And he didn’t like it.

Not because he cared.

Not really.

But because he knew people like Niragi. People who took and took and took, chewing others up and spitting them out without a second thought. He knew what it meant to be soft in a place like this. He knew how easily softness could be crushed.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to see that happen to you.

Maybe.

But he wasn’t about to admit that.

You picked up the pace, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. When you finally reached them, you shoved the gun back into Niragi’s hands without ceremony. “Here. I don’t want this anymore.”

Niragi laughed, loud, spinning the gun in his hand. “Aww, done playing soldier?” He gave you a grin that showed just a little too much teeth. “Figured you’d end up shooting yourself in the foot.”

You ignored him, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “It’s so hot.” you whined, tugging at the front of your dress to fan yourself. “I feel like I’m gonna melt.”

Chishiya barely spared you a glance. “It’s summer.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” you grumbled. “I hate it. I feel all sticky.” You wiped your hands on the hem of your dress and wrinkled your nose. “And I’m hungry.”

Niragi scoffed. “You’re always hungry.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Because you never feed me.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re not a fucking puppy.”

“I could be. If it meant you’d actually give me something to eat.”

“Well, aren’t you just precious.” he sneered, reaching out to flick your nose. You swatted his hand away, scowling, but he only grinned wider. “You’ll eat after the game.”

Your stomach sank. “After?”

Chishiya glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Be patient.”

You stared at him, mouth opening and closing as you tried to find the right words. “But…” You looked around, gesturing to the empty street. “But it’s already late. What if the game takes hours? What if I pass out from hunger in the middle of it?” You pressed a hand dramatically to your forehead. “You’ll have to carry me.”

“That’d be the least of our problems.” Chishiya deadpanned.

You turned to Niragi, wide-eyed and pleading. “What if I die?”

He snorted. “Then at least you won’t be hungry anymore.”

You gasped, slapping his arm. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re dramatic.” Niragi smirked, twirling his gun again as he walked ahead. “Come on, princess. You’ll survive.”

You huffed but followed, dragging your feet a little just to be petty. The heat pressed down on you, making every step feel heavier, and the hunger gnawed at your stomach. At least you didn’t have to pee anymore. Your eyes drifted to the sky, watching as the colors darkened, the last streaks of sunlight melting into shadows.

Fuck. Fuck them. Fuck you. Fuck.

~

The game was set in an old department store—a massive, darkened labyrinth of empty shelves and abandoned checkout counters. The automatic doors had long since stopped working, left ajar just enough for people to slip through. It felt cold inside, even with the summer heat lingering outside, and the air smelled faintly of dust and rust. The kind of place that felt haunted even if there weren’t death games happening inside.

The three of you stood near the escalators, waiting. The others—about ten or so—scattered through the first floor, some lingering near the dark aisles, others watching the entrance. Everyone was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the emergency lights overhead. Each flicker of movement had heads turning sharply, eyes darting, bodies tense.

Niragi stood to your right, leaning against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. His gun rested easily against his hip, one finger tapping lazily against the handle. He scanned the room with a bored expression, though you knew better. He was watching. Calculating. Deciding who would scream the loudest if he shot them first.

Chishiya was on your left, leaning against the glass railing, his gaze equally sharp but far more subtle. He had that quiet curiosity about him, like he was studying everyone as if they were pieces on a board, already thinking three moves ahead.

You, on the other hand, were fidgeting. The cold air made your skin prickle, and you shifted from foot to foot, glancing around. You hated the waiting. The quiet. It was always worse before the game started, when the silence felt heavy, like it was pressing down on you.

You frowned, glancing around the store. “It’s weird. I always thought department stores were kind of cozy, you know? When they’re open and full of people.” You rubbed your arms, shivering a little. “But now it feels… wrong.”

“That’s because it is wrong.” Niragi drawled, pushing off the pillar and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “This place is a graveyard. Bet you anything half these losers won’t make it out.”

You frowned but didn’t shrug him off. The weight of his arm was grounding, in a way. “Don’t say that.”

He laughed. “What, too dark for you?” He squeezed your shoulder, leaning in close. “You better toughen up. Games don’t care how sweet you are.”

You sighed, resting your head against his arm. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the exchange quietly, his eyes flicking between the two of you. He tilted his head slightly, observing the way Niragi hovered close, possessive in a way that felt more animal than human. He’d always been like that. Claiming things. People. Biting into them just to see how much they’d bleed.

But you… You were soft. Warm. And Niragi clung to that warmth like a drowning man, desperate and reckless, sinking his claws into you just to keep from going under. Chishiya couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or dangerous. Maybe both.

You shifted, pulling away from Niragi just enough to face Chishiya. “What about you? Do you think we’ll be okay?”

He blinked slowly, considering you. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On the game.”

You sighed, leaning against the railing. “You’re no help.”

Niragi snorted. “Told you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but before he could retaliate, the lights flickered. Everyone tensed, eyes snapping to the ceiling as the emergency lights blinked twice before settling into a steady glow. The sound of heavy metal doors sliding shut echoed through the building, sealing everyone inside.

A screen flickered to life above the escalators, casting the room in a cold, blue light.

GAME: SILENT.

DIFFICULTY: 5 OF DIAMONDS

Of course. You glanced at Chishiya, who barely blinked. Niragi just sneered.

RULES:

Each player will be assigned a section of the store. You must locate your section and remain there until further instruction.

If the sound sensors detect noise above a certain threshold—

A low beep sounded from overhead. The screen shifted, showing a digital counter set to 100. It hovered ominously, a bright red warning against the cold blue screen.

—the counter will decrease.

The screen displayed a quick animation: a digital figure knocking over a can, the counter ticking down. When it hit 0, a loud, sharp buzz echoed through the store, and the figure collapsed. Dead.

If the counter reaches zero, all players will be eliminated.

Silence. The room felt colder. Heavier. You gripped your arms tightly, barely breathing.

“Wait…” You frowned. “So we just have to be quiet?”

Niragi laughed under his breath, low. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Chishiya’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more.”

The screen flickered again, showing a floor plan of the department store. Various sections lit up—electronics, clothing, home things—each one marked with a small red dot.

A challenge will be issued in each section. Complete the challenge without triggering the sound sensors. Failure to complete the challenge will result in a penalty.

You didn’t even want to know what the penalty was.

Complete all challenges before the counter reaches zero to win.

And just like that, the screen went dark. The emergency lights dimmed even further, barely illuminating the space. The only sound was the faint buzz of the screen and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

A soft click echoed through the store, and you jumped as small wristbands slid out from a slot below the screen. One for each of the players.

Niragi grabbed his first, spinning it around his finger before snapping it onto his wrist. Chishiya took his without a word, fastening it with a soft click. You hesitated before slipping yours on, the band tightening automatically.

A soft beep sounded as the screens on your wristbands lit up.

GAME START.

A small map appeared, showing your location and marking a path to your assigned section.

“Well,” Niragi said, rolling his shoulders. “looks like we’re splitting up.”

Your heart sank. “What?”

He tilted his head. “You heard the rules. Each player gets a section. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll come find you when you screw up.”

You frowned, glancing nervously at Chishiya. He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The challenges will test your problem-solving. Staying quiet is just the extra layer of difficulty.” he murmured.

“But…” You bit your lip. “What if I can’t do it?”

Niragi snorted. “Then you die.”

You flinched, but Chishiya just rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating.” He glanced at his wristband, already scanning the map. “The goal is to complete all the challenges before the counter hits zero. As long as you’re careful, you’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure you believed him.

Niragi turned toward the aisles, whistling softly—the sound immediately earning a soft beep from the ceiling, the counter ticking down from 100 to 99.

“Oops.” he grinned. “Guess I should be more careful.”

You wanted to slap him.

Chishiya sighed. “Let’s go.”

You followed them through the store, the silence heavy around you. Your section was in the clothing department, while Chishiya’s was in electronics and Niragi’s in sport.

As you approached the branching hallways, Niragi gave you a sharp grin. “Don’t get lost.” He flicked your forehead, making you flinch. “I’ll come find your corpse later.”

Before you could snap at him, he walked off into the darkness, gun resting on his shoulder.

Chishiya looked at you. “I think you’ll survive.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “Stay quiet. And don’t overthink things.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment, eyes lingering on you, before finally turning away, slipping into the shadows.

And just like that… you were alone.

~

The sky was dark, darker than usual.

You stood alone on the cracked sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around your little pink bag like it could shield you from the horrors of this place. The game was over. You survived. But that familiar weight in your chest wouldn’t ease.

The street was dead silent, save for the soft scuff of your pretty shoes shifting nervously against the pavement. You glanced down at your hands, trembling slightly as they clutched the straps of your bag. You squeezed your fingers tighter, trying to ground yourself.

You were fine. You were alive. That’s what mattered.

Then you heard footsteps.

Your head snapped up, heart lurching into your throat. From the shadows, two figures emerged—familiar, but no less unsettling. Niragi’s long frame cut through the night like a knife, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, mouth twisted into something like a sneer.

Chishiya followed a few paces behind, quieter, calmer, hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t just come from a life-or-death game. His eyes flicked over you once, taking in the way you curled into yourself, before settling somewhere past your shoulder.

“What, you thought we’d die or something?” Niragi’s voice was low, almost bored, but it made you flinch all the same. His eyes glinted under the faint moonlight, his piercings also.

You shrank back a little, but forced yourself to speak. “I… I was worried.” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. You hated how fragile it sounded. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Niragi scoffed, shifting his rifle with a careless swing of his arm. “How cute.” He tilted his head, studying you. “What do you think this is, princess? Some happy little survival club? No one cares if you’re worried.”

You dropped your gaze, biting your lip.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. But still… you had worried. You always did. Even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I care.” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Niragi’s grin faltered for a second. Just a second. His eyes flicked over you again, slower this time, like he was trying to figure out what the hell you were made of. Then he snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

You shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around your bag. “I’m glad you’re okay.” you said softly, eyes darting toward Chishiya. He hadn’t spoken a word. Just stood there, quiet.

“You too, Chishiya.”

He blinked, surprised for a moment that you’d addressed him. Then he offered the smallest nod, eyes lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

The silence stretched between the three of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, searching for something—anything—to fill the void.

“So… how was the game?” you asked quietly.

Niragi let out a sharp bark of laughter. “What, you wanna swap war stories now?”

You flinched. “No, I just… I don’t know.” You looked down, scuffing your shoe against the cracked pavement. “I guess I just want to talk.”

Niragi scoffed again, but it sounded almost tired this time. He turned away, staring out into the darkness like he could see something you couldn’t. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should apologize. You shifted on your feet, then hesitantly stepped closer to them. Neither of them moved. Slowly, carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against Niragi’s sleeve. His body tensed instantly, and for a moment, you thought he might shove you away. But he didn’t. He just stood there, silent and still, letting your touch linger.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you whispered again.

Niragi scoffed, low and quiet, but you heard the way his breath hitched. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Maybe you were. But you didn’t let go.

You shifted again, biting your lip, voice soft and hesitant. “Um… Can we eat now?”

Niragi’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost stumbled back. His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer. “What?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “You… you promised.” you whispered. “After the game. You said we could eat after the game.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes glittering with something unreadable. Then, to your horror, he let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot I made a promise to the princess.” He leaned in close, voice dropping into something low and mean. “Newsflash, sweetheart. Promises don’t mean shit here.”

“But I’m hungry.” you said softly, almost pleading. “You said—”

“I said,” Niragi snapped, cutting you off. “a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I have to keep my word.” He grinned, sharp and mean, tilting his head to the side. “Besides, what’s a little hunger? Builds character.”

Your stomach twisted painfully, both from his words and the ache gnawing at your insides. You’d been walking all day, barely eating anything, and the fear from earlier had left you drained. You were exhausted. You were starving. And Niragi… Niragi didn’t care.

Niragi stared at you for a moment, eyes flickering over your trembling form, before scoffing and turning away. “Jesus. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

Your heart sank. You bit your lip, glancing toward Chishiya for support, but he remained silent, watching the interaction with that same unreadable expression. You dropped your gaze, shoulders sagging.

Then, quietly, Chishiya spoke. “She should eat.”

Niragi froze, his head turning slowly toward Chishiya. “What?” he hissed.

Chishiya met his glare with infuriating calmness, his voice quiet and even. “She should eat.” he repeated. “You promised her. Keep your word.”

The air shifted instantly. Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. He took a step toward Chishiya, his sneer sharpening into something colder, crueler. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in charge now.” His voice dripped with venom. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared.”

Chishiya didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “I don’t.” he said simply. “But she does.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a moment, you thought he might actually raise it. The tension between them crackled like static in the air, dangerous. You shrank back, heart racing, eyes darting between them.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Niragi let out a sharp breath, rolling his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” He turned away, muttering under his breath.

Niragi started walking, the weight of his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder.

You blinked hard, trying to stay focused, but the pavement felt like it was tilting beneath your feet. Your stomach twisted painfully, the hunger gnawing at you sharper now, almost dizzying. You started walking after them. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

The game had been long. The walking had been longer. Your body felt drained, trembling slightly with every step. But you kept going. You always did.

Then your vision blurred. The world tilted sideways, and your knees buckled.

“Woah—shit.” Your knees hit the pavement before you even realized you’d fallen, the rough concrete scraping against your skin. Your pink bag slipped from your fingers, landing with a soft thud beside you. The world spun violently.

“Y/N?” Chishiya’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the haze in your mind. Footsteps followed, slow.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. The hunger, the exhaustion—it was all too much. “I’m… I’m okay.” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. “Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Niragi’s voice snapped through the night like a whip. His footsteps were faster, louder, echoing in your ears. “The fuck do you mean ‘dizzy’?”

You blinked up at him, vision still swimming. He loomed over you, jaw tight. His rifle hung loosely at his side, but his other hand twitched at his hip, fingers curling and uncurling like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You forced a weak smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “I just… I think I need a minute.”

Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A minute.” he repeated. “You’re sitting on the fucking ground, looking like you’re about to pass out, and you need a minute?”

You flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but before you could answer, Chishiya’s voice cut through the tension.

“She hasn’t eaten.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You saw the way Niragi’s body tensed, his fingers curling tighter at his side. He turned slowly, fixing Chishiya with a look so cold it could’ve frozen the air between them. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, his face unreadable. “She hasn’t eaten.” he repeated calmly. “I told you.”

Niragi’s jaw tightened. “Oh, fuck you.”

Chishiya shrugged. “You’re the one who said promises don’t mean shit.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles going white. For a second, you thought he might actually swing it at Chishiya, but instead, he whirled back toward you, crouching down so you were eye-level. His face was inches from yours, scanning your face like he was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with you.

You shrank back slightly, heart racing. “Niragi, I—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he snapped. His voice was sharp, almost angry, but there was something else beneath it—something raw. “Huh? You were just gonna fucking keel over and die on us?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” you whispered. “You were tired after the game, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Niragi stared at you. Then he scoffed, running a hand through his hair and letting out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.” He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to glare at Chishiya. “You think you’re so fucking smart, huh?” He jabbed a finger at him. “Standing there, all high and mighty, like you knew this was gonna happen.”

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, lingering for a moment before shifting back to Niragi. “I did.”

Niragi’s grip tightened around his rifle, but before he could lash out again, you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Both men turned toward you. Niragi looked pissed. Chishiya just looked… tired.

“I didn’t mean to make things difficult.” you said softly. “I just… I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You forced a small smile, even as your vision swam again. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”

Niragi stared at you, his jaw tight, breathing heavy. Then he let out a sharp breath and crouched down in front of you again, his hands resting on his knees. “You’re so fucking stupid.” His voice was quieter now, almost… soft.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“You heard me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re fucking stupid. Always putting everyone else first. Always apologizing.” His eyes narrowed. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak.”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze. “I’m not weak.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he sighed and dropped onto the pavement beside you, legs stretched out in front of him. “You’re lucky I like weak things.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

He ignored you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled protein bar. Without a word, he shoved it into your hands. “Eat.”

You blinked down at the bar, then back up at him. “But—”

“Eat.” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “Before I shove it down your throat.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Chishiya, who just raised a brow and gestured vaguely toward Niragi. “Don’t look at me. I told him to feed you an hour ago.”

Niragi growled under his breath, but you ignored him, carefully unwrapping the bar and taking a small bite. You nearly moaned. Your body practically sighed in relief, the dizziness easing just enough for you to breathe again.

You glanced toward Niragi, your heart softening a little at the way he stared out into the dark, jaw tight, refusing to look at you.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

He didn’t respond. Just sat there in silence, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.

Chishiya watched quietly, eyes flicking between the two of you before he let out a soft huff and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Idiots.”

Neither of you answered.

The dizziness had faded to a dull throb behind your eyes, and your body felt less like it was about to give out. Small victories.

You shifted slightly, curling your legs beneath you as you hugged your pink bag to your chest. Niragi sat beside you, silent now, his long legs stretched out in front of him, rifle resting lazily across his lap. He hadn’t spoken since forcing the protein bar into your hands. Didn’t even look at you. Just stared out into the night like he was waiting for something—or maybe trying not to feel something.

Chishiya lingered a few feet away, leaning against the crumbling wall of the store behind you.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, voice soft, almost unsure. “Do you think we could go back inside?”

Niragi stiffened slightly, his head snapping toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers tighter around your bag. “The department store. There might still be food in there. Or water. I just thought…” You trailed off, heart pounding a little faster under his sudden scrutiny. “It’s probably a stupid idea.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

You blinked, startled. “Where are you going?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Where do you think?” He jerked his head toward the dark entrance of the store. “Someone’s gotta keep you from passing out again.”

Before you could say anything, he walked off toward the building. You stared after him, a little stunned. Niragi… was going to get food? For you?

Chishiya let out a soft huff, drawing your attention. “I wouldn’t be so touched.” he said dryly. “He probably just wants an excuse to shoot something.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter as Niragi disappeared into the shadows. “He’s not that bad.”

Chishiya raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “No?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall behind you. “Okay, maybe he is that bad. But… he didn’t have to go.”

Chishiya shrugged, his gaze drifting toward the dark entrance. “He likes having an excuse to feel useful.” His eyes flicked back to you. “And you give him a lot of excuses.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The silence stretched between you. You shifted slightly, picking at a loose thread on your bag before glancing up at him.

“What about you?” you asked softly. “Why do you stay?”

Chishiya blinked, clearly not expecting the question. He tilted his head slightly, considering you for a moment. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged. “I asked first.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “I stay for the entertainment.” he said simply.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Softer, somehow. You glanced toward the department store, half-expecting Niragi to come stomping back out, but the entrance remained dark and empty.

“Do you think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Chishiya huffed a soft laugh. “He’s probably having the time of his life.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worry too much.”

You smiled faintly. “Someone has to.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. Just watched you quietly, his expression unreadable.

Niragi had been gone for a while now, long enough that you started to feel that familiar worry twist in your stomach. But when you glanced at Chishiya, leaning against the wall a few feet away, he looked as relaxed as ever.

You bit your lip, watching him quietly for a moment. The shadows stretched long across his face, the soft moonlight catching on the silver of his hair. He didn’t look at you, eyes half-lidded as he stared off into the dark. Always so distant. Always so quiet.

“Hey.” you said softly.

Chishiya’s gaze flicked toward you, slow and lazy, like you’d interrupted some deep train of thought. He raised a brow. “What?”

You hesitated, fingers twisting into the fabric of your bag. “What’s up with you?”

His brow arched higher, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like you’d asked him the dumbest question imaginable. “What?”

You shrugged, glancing down at your hands. “I mean… how are you? You’re always so quiet. I just wondered…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I don’t know. You don’t talk much.”

Chishiya let out a soft huff, barely a laugh, and looked away again. “There’s not much to say.”

You frowned, shifting slightly to face him better. “That’s not true.” You hesitated, then patted the empty spot on the pavement beside you. “Sit down.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just sit.”

For a moment, you thought he might ignore you. But after a long pause, he let out a quiet sigh and pushed off the wall, walking over to sink onto the pavement beside you. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, and leaned back on his hands.

You watched him quietly for a moment, trying to read the expression on his face, but as always, it gave away nothing. He just stared out into the darkness, eyes half-lidded, mouth set in a soft line.

“Better?” he asked dryly.

You smiled faintly. “A little.”

The silence settled again, heavier this time. You shifted slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You know… you’re really hard to read.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” You hesitated, fingers tapping lightly against your bag. “I just mean… you never talk about yourself. Not really.” You glanced at him again. “Why is that?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the dark store, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was watching for any sign of Niragi. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “What’s the point?”

You blinked. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, the moonlight catching in his hair. “Talking. Sharing. It doesn’t change anything.” He shrugged, gaze still fixed on the darkness. “People like to think it does. But it doesn’t.”

You frowned, hugging your bag tighter. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He scoffed softly. “Of course you don’t.”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “You shared with me once.”

That made him pause. His gaze flicked toward you, assessing. “Did I?”

You nodded slowly. “A while ago. You told me things.” You looked down at your hands. “I remember.”

Oh, he remembered that very well. One of his happiest memories in that miserable life of his, probably.

“That was a mistake.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because now you think you know me.”

You stared at him, heart sinking a little. “I don’t.” you said softly. “But… I’d like to.”

Chishiya turned toward you, eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something cutting. But then he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, and the silence stretched long between you.

Finally, he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “You’re exhausting.”

You smiled faintly. “I get that a lot.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The darkness stretched around you, quiet and still, and the soft hum of the night filled the air. You glanced at Chishiya again, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each slow breath, the way his silver hair fell into his eyes. He looked almost peaceful. Almost.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

Chishiya’s eyes opened slowly, gaze flicking toward you. “For what?”

You shrugged, smiling softly. “For sitting with me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes searching your face. Then he let out a soft huff and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Don’t mention it.” he muttered.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on your knees, arms wrapped around your legs. The pavement was cold beneath you, but you didn’t mind. Chishiya stayed quiet at your side, eyes closed, breathing slow and even like the dark world around him didn’t exist.

You let yourself relax for a moment. The dizziness had faded a little. Or maybe you were just getting used to it. Either way, the night air felt cool against your skin, and the weight in your chest didn’t feel as heavy with Chishiya sitting next to you.

Then, in the distance, you heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Loud. Familiar.

You turned your head, watching as a shadow emerged from the darkness. Niragi. Aa plastic bag swinging from one hand, rifle slung over his shoulder. Even in the dim light, you could see the irritation painted across his face.

“Well, aren’t I just the fucking delivery boy.” he sneered, holding up the bag like it physically offended him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You blinked, surprised. “You actually found stuff?”

Niragi scoffed, dropping the bag into your lap with a loud crinkle. “Yeah. You think I’m useless or something?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just… Thank you.” You smiled softly, fingers curling around the plastic handles. “Really.”

Niragi stared at you for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he rolled them, muttering something under his breath as he dropped onto the pavement beside you, stretching his legs out with a huff.

You peeked inside the bag and felt a rush of relief at the sight of the food. You grabbed the water first, cracking the lid open and taking a long, slow sip, your throat burning with each swallow. God, that felt good.

Chishiya watched quietly as you started pulling things out of the bag, carefully tucking each item into your pink bag. You worked slowly, carefully fitting everything inside, fingers gentle, movements soft. Niragi just stared out into the night, rifle resting across his lap.

But you… you couldn’t stop talking.

“You know,” you began softly, glancing between the two of them. “you guys are really different.”

Niragi snorted. “No shit.”

You smiled faintly. “I just mean… you’re both quiet. But in different ways.” You glanced at Chishiya, who arched a brow. “You watch people. You’re careful. I feel like you’re always calculating something.”

Chishiya huffed softly. “Observing.”

“Right.” you said, nodding. “Observing.” You bit your lip, glancing at Niragi. “And you… you’re loud. Even when you’re quiet.”

Niragi shot you a look. “The fuck does that mean?”

You shrugged, carefully sliding a protein bar into the side pocket of your bag. “You fill the space around you. You’re… intense.” You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of your bag. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Niragi stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re weird.”

You laughed softly. “I get that a lot.”

You get a lot of things thrown at your head, Y/N.

The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel so heavy this time. You sat quietly, tucking the last of the food into your bag before zipping it up and hugging it to your chest.

“Why do you care so much?” Chishiya asked suddenly.

You blinked, glancing at him. “What?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Us. Why do you care?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart sinking a little. “Because… someone has to.”

Niragi scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smiled faintly. “Probably.” You glanced between them, heart softening a little.

Chishiya watched you quietly. Niragi just rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms cover his chest.

“Lucky us.” Niragi muttered.

You just smiled, hugging your bag tighter. The food inside felt like a tiny victory, even if Niragi had made a show of slamming the bag into your lap like it was some huge inconvenience.

You glanced between them—Niragi, lounging against the wall like the world bored him, his long legs stretched out and rifle balanced lazily across his lap. Chishiya, quiet and still, arms folded over his chest, eyes half-lidded like he was seconds away from falling asleep. They were so different, and yet… here they were. Both of them. With you.

A soft breath slipped past your lips, and you pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dust from your clothes. Niragi tilted his head back to look up at you, brow furrowing slightly.

“What are you doing?”

You ignored him, shifting your bag over your shoulder and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

Niragi stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “What?”

“Let’s go.” You gestured vaguely at the empty street ahead of you. “We can’t just sit here all night.”

Niragi scoffed. “Why not? No one’s stopping us.”

You huffed softly, reaching down to grab his hand. He tensed beneath your touch, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t let go. His fingers curled instinctively around yours even as he scowled.

“Come on.” you said again, gentler this time. “Please?”

Niragi let out a long, dramatic sigh, but he stood, towering over you as he stretched his arms above his head. “You’re so fucking annoying.” he muttered.

You smiled softly. “I know.”

Chishiya watched the two of you quietly, his gaze flicking down to where your fingers curled around Niragi’s hand. He arched a brow, but said nothing.

“And you.” you said, turning toward him. “You’re not off the hook.”

Chishiya blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hm?”

You grabbed his hand, fingers curling around his wrist, tugging gently. “Come on. You too.”

Chishiya didn’t move at first. He just sat there, staring at you like he was trying to figure out what the fuck your angle was. Then, with a soft sigh, he let you pull him to his feet. His fingers slipped into yours, cool and steady, the complete opposite of Niragi’s tense grip.

Satisfied, you started walking, dragging them along behind you. Niragi grumbled under his breath the entire time, but he didn’t pull away. Chishiya stayed quiet, his steps light and even, barely making a sound against the cracked pavement.

Eventually, you let their hands slip from yours, walking a few steps ahead. The night air felt lighter now, the tension easing from your shoulders with every step.

You glanced back at them, smiling softly. Niragi walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, scowling at the ground like it had personally offended him. Chishiya moved like a shadow, eyes half-lidded as he watched you from a few paces behind.

“You know,” you said softly, glancing over your shoulder. “I’m really glad I found you guys.”

Niragi scoffed. “Yeah, well. I didn’t fucking ask.”

You just smiled, turning your gaze back to the empty street ahead. For now, with their quiet footsteps trailing behind you and the weight of your cute pink bag against your back, you let yourself believe it’s good. That you’re fine.

~

Niragi was pissed off.

Not at you. God, never at you.

He watched you walk ahead, your pink bag bouncing softly against your back with every step, the gentle sway of your body almost hypnotic in the quiet night. Chishiya had moved further up the road, putting space between himself and the two of you—typical. The bastard never liked getting too close. Niragi didn’t care about him, though. Right now, his eyes were locked on you.

You were so fucking soft. Even after everything you’d seen, everything he’d done right in front of you, you still turned around to check on him. Still smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster.

It made him furious.

Because Niragi wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was.

Violent. Cruel. Twisted. He’d killed people. Laughed about it. Wallowed in the blood and the fire and the chaos of it all. This place it gave him permission to be the ugliest version of himself. And he liked it. He liked the way people flinched when they saw him. The way they shrank back from his smile and the glint of his rifle.

But you? You never shrank away.

You should have. After everything he did, after the man he killed right in front of you, you should’ve run as far and as fast as you could. Let’s not even talk about when they made you kill that guy. But instead, you stayed. Even when you flinched at his violence, even when your eyes welled up with tears and your hands shook, you stayed. You cried, but you didn’t leave. And when the tears stopped, you reached for him. Like he deserved your comfort. Like he deserved you.

It made him sick. It made him angry.

Not at you. Never at you.

At himself.

Because Niragi felt.

And he fucking hated it.

He hated the way his chest squeezed when you smiled at him, soft and sweet like a sunrise he didn’t deserve to see. He hated the way his hands ached to touch you, to feel your warmth, your softness, your kindness—things he’d never had and never would. He hated the way his body gravitated toward you.

He hated that you made him want to be better.

He shoved the thought down deep, scowling as he watched you walk ahead. You moved so easily, your steps light and soft even on the cracked pavement. Like you belonged anywhere but here. Like the darkness couldn’t touch you.

Niragi’s fists clenched.

You didn’t belong here. Not with him. Not with Chishiya. Not in this fucking place.

But you stayed anyway.

And it terrified him.

Because what the hell was he supposed to do with that? With you?

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, glancing back at him over your shoulder, eyes soft and warm even in the darkness. “You okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

Was he okay? No. Fuck no. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. His skin itched with the need to be closer to you and the instinct to push you so far away you’d never find your way back. His chest ached, tight and unfamiliar, like his ribs were trying to crush something too soft to survive. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh.

He wanted to fall to his knees and beg you to stay and shove you away in the same breath.

Instead, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

You frowned, biting your lip. God, you were so soft. So sweet. How the hell were you still here?

“Okay.” you said quietly. Then, as if you hadn’t just shattered him with a single word, you turned back around and kept walking.

Niragi let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. He glanced up ahead, watching Chishiya’s quiet silhouette move further away. Niragi sneered. That smug bastard didn’t deserve you either.

But at least Chishiya didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.

Niragi… he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go.

Even if it killed him.

He watched you like a predator, his eyes tracking your every move. You walked with that soft, steady grace, like the world hadn’t already tried to chew you up and spit you out a thousand times. Like you hadn’t just survived another game. There was something infuriating about it, about you. Even in the middle of this hellhole, with death around every corner, you still managed to be… light.

And Niragi hated it.

No—he hated that he needed it.

The world had stripped away every soft thing inside him, leaving behind a jagged, broken thing. People were weak. People were selfish. That’s what this place taught you. Kill or be killed. Hurt or be hurt. He’d chosen to be the one holding the gun, the one laughing while the world burned. That was the only way to survive.

But then you came along.

You with your kindness. Your softness. Your goddamn heart.

It made him sick. It made him angry. It made him feel.

And Niragi didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

His eyes followed the gentle sway of your pink bag, the way your fingers curled around the strap like it held something precious. You always did that—treated everything with care. Even him. Especially him. After everything he’d done, after all the blood and violence, you still reached for him. Still forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye. “You sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, the concern in your voice making his stomach twist.

Niragi scowled. “Why do you care?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Because I do.”

His jaw clenched. His fists curled. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you, shake you, make you understand what a stupid, dangerous thing it was to care about someone like him.

Instead, he just scoffed. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t shy away. You just smiled—soft, patient. “Maybe.”

Niragi stared at you, his chest tightening, his heart pounding against his ribs like a caged animal. He wanted to run. He wanted to stay. He wanted to rip himself open and shove every ugly part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still look at him like that.

But he didn’t.

Because Niragi didn’t know how to be soft. He only knew how to destroy.

And the scariest part?

He was terrified that one day, he’d destroy you too.

His eyes drifted down to your hand.

You’d stretched it out toward him, soft and open, palm facing up. An invitation. A gentle offering. The pink strap of your bag slid down your shoulder as you turned toward him, slowing your pace to match his. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, but you… you were right here.

No one had ever held their hand out to him like this before.

He’d held hands before—sure. When he was a dumb fucking kid, he used to clutch his mom’s hand when they crossed the street. He could barely remember the feeling of it now, warm and soft.

School was no better. The only time anyone ever grabbed his hand was because they had to—stupid group projects or forced activities, holding hands in a circle like they actually wanted him there. He remembered the way they would barely touch him, just their fingertips ghosting against his skin like he was diseased.

And the girls at the Beach? They’d touched him, sure. In bed, their hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping down his back. But even that wasn’t real. They were drunk on fear or power or the sick rush of survival, just like everyone else. Their hands never lingered. Never stayed.

But this?

This was different.

You were different.

You held your hand out to him like you actually wanted him to take it. No fear. No obligation. Just warmth. Just you.

Niragi stared at your hand, his breath catching in his throat. He felt frozen, like if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter and you’d slip away. His fingers twitched in his pocket, itching to reach out, to feel the softness of your skin against his own.

But he didn’t deserve it.

Not after everything he’d done. Not after the blood on his hands and the violence in his heart. You shouldn’t be reaching for him. You should be running from him.

But you didn’t.

You just waited, patient and soft, your fingers curling slightly like you were coaxing him closer. “It’s okay.” you said softly, your voice gentle in the quiet night. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck.

He felt his heart lurch, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting in his chest. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Before he could stop himself, Niragi’s hand slipped from his pocket. Slowly—so slowly—he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. You just curled your hand around his, squeezing softly.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his palm pressing against yours. Your hand was so much smaller, so much softer. You just held on.

And Niragi?

He held on too.

His fingers tightened around yours, his grip almost too firm, like if he let go, you’d disappear. His heart pounded in his chest, loud and heavy, and he clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead like it didn’t mean anything. Like his entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis because of you and your stupid soft hands.

You smiled softly, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “See? Not so bad.”

Niragi scoffed, looking away. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

But he didn’t let go.

Not even once.

Niragi never meant to get attached.

That wasn’t who he was. Attachments made you weak. They gave people leverage. Made you soft. The borderlands didn’t have room for softness. It was a place where kindness got you killed and love was just another kind of weakness.

But then there was you.

You, with your soft hands and your stupid pink bag, walking with him like you didn’t have a single fear in the world. As if this hellhole wasn’t breathing down your neck every second of the day. As if monsters like him didn’t exist. Or maybe you knew they did and just… didn’t care.

That was the worst part. You knew. You saw what he was capable of. The violence. The cruelty. You’d watched him kill a man without blinking. You’d seen the blood on his hands, the gleam in his eyes when he pulled the trigger. You should’ve run. You should’ve screamed. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And worse—you cared.

You were so fucking soft, always checking on him, always offering little smiles like they could melt the darkness inside him. Like you saw something in him worth saving. It pissed him off. It made his skin crawl. It made him want.

Want what? He didn’t know.

At least… he didn’t at first.

The more time he spent with you, the harder it became to ignore. The way his eyes always found you first. The way his chest felt tight whenever you strayed too far from his side. The way his fingers twitched, itching to grab your hand again, to feel your warmth, to make sure you were real.

And god, the way you smiled.

That was the worst part. The way you smiled at him like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t a monster. He hated it. He needed it.

Every time you looked at him like that, something inside him cracked open, raw and bleeding. It felt like standing too close to a fire, the heat licking at his skin, burning through his defenses. He wanted to shove you away. He wanted to pull you closer. He wanted to tear himself open and shove every ugly, broken part of himself into your hands just to see if you’d still smile at him.

He hated you for it.

No—not you. Never you.

He hated himself.

Because Niragi was selfish. He knew that. He’d always been selfish. He took what he wanted, consequences be damned. And right now? He wanted you.

But he didn’t deserve you.

He knew that too.

It didn’t stop him from watching you, his dark eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the soft sway of your hips, the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders with every breath. You moved like you didn’t belong here, light and soft, like the darkness couldn’t touch you. Like he couldn’t touch you.

And maybe he shouldn’t.

But god, he wanted to.

He wanted to grab you, to press you up against the nearest wall and feel you breathe beneath him. To drag his hands over every soft inch of you and burn the memory of your warmth into his skin. To hold you close, closer than anyone ever had, and never let go.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you safe.

That was the part that scared him the most.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. People were weak. People were selfish. People betrayed you the second you let your guard down. That was the first lesson the world taught him—the only lesson that mattered.

But you weren’t like them.

You were soft. And sweet. And you cared. About him. About Chishiya. About people who didn’t deserve it. People who would break you if you let them.

And Niragi hated the idea of anyone breaking you.

Anyone but him.

He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his rifle. His gaze burned into the back of your head as you walked ahead of him, still holding his hand, practically dragging him along, your soft hum drifting back on the breeze. Chishiya was still ahead, quiet and distant, always watching. Always judging. Niragi sneered. Fucking bastard. Always acting like he was better than everyone else.

But even Chishiya wasn’t immune to you. Niragi saw the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his posture softened ever so slightly whenever you smiled at him. It made Niragi’s blood boil. Not because Chishiya cared. No—Niragi didn’t give a fuck about that.

What pissed him off was that Chishiya let you get close.

Because the second you got close? That was when you got hurt.

And Niragi… he wasn’t sure what he’d do if someone hurt you.

No. That wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d kill them. Slowly. Painfully. And he’d enjoy every second of it.

Because Niragi was a monster.

But even monsters could love.

His fingers curled tighter around yours, his grip almost too firm. You didn’t pull away—you never did—but your thumb brushed softly over his knuckles, easing the tension. It was a soft, absentminded thing. Maybe you didn’t even realize you were doing it. But he did.

He noticed everything about you.

The softness of your skin against his, delicate and smooth, like you’d never had to fight for your life. The way your pinky finger rested against his, warm and gentle, like you belonged there. The faint scent of whatever soap you had at the apartment, sweet and floral, clinging to you even now.

It made his chest ache.

Niragi kept his eyes straight ahead, scowling into the darkness, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened every time you squeezed his hand. The street stretched out before you, cracked and quiet.

All Niragi could feel was you.

It was stupid. He’d touched you before. A lot, actually. We know that. You were soft like that—always reaching for him, always offering your warmth without a second thought. It made his skin itch, made his heart pound, made him want to rip himself open just to see if he was even capable of feeling anything good anymore.

But tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or the darkness. Or the fact that you’d almost passed out earlier, too dizzy and tired to keep going, your body finally giving out after god knows how long without eating. He’d never admit it—not even to himself—but it had scared the shit out of him.

You weren’t supposed to be weak. You weren’t supposed to break.

But you did.

And Niragi realized something, walking there watching you sway on your feet, eyes fluttering closed while you clutched at your stupid little pink bag.

He cared.

Not just about keeping you alive. Not just about having you close.

He cared about you.

The thought made him feel sick.

Because Niragi didn’t care about people. They used you, then threw you away the second you stopped being useful. That was the first thing he learned growing up—the first thing that shaped him into the man he was now. He’d been nothing to everyone his whole life, and when the Borderlands came, it finally gave him permission to be the monster they always said he was.

But you…

You made him want to be something else.

He glanced down at your hands, the way your fingers tangled with his, soft and trusting, like he wasn’t capable of snapping them in half with a single squeeze.

God, you were so fucking stupid.

But he liked it.

He liked the way you hummed softly under your breath when the silence stretched too long, a quiet little melody that barely reached his ears. He liked the way you squeezed his hand when the darkness pressed in too tightly, as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world. He liked the way you smiled at him, soft and patient, like you weren’t terrified of what he might do.

And fuck, maybe the worst part was that you weren’t scared.

Not of him. Not really.

You’d seen him kill. You’d seen him laugh while the blood pooled beneath his feet. You’d seen the worst parts of him, and still—still—you reached for him. You forgave him.

Why?

What the fuck did you see in him?

Niragi clenched his jaw, his free hand tightening around his rifle. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He was a killer. A monster. The kind of man who burned things down just to watch the flames. He’d taken lives. He’d laughed while people screamed. He’d reveled in the chaos and destruction of it all.

But here you were.

Holding his hand.

Soft. Gentle. Kind. Everything he wasn’t.

Everything he wanted.

His fingers squeezed yours tighter, almost desperate, like he could hold onto this feeling—hold onto you—and never let go. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed back, your thumb brushing over his skin again, soft and patient. Like you were telling him it was okay.

Niragi felt something crack inside him.

It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A tiny sliver of warmth, burning beneath his ribs, curling around his heart. It was uncomfortable. It was terrifying. It was everything.

And for the first time in his miserable fucking life, Niragi realized he wasn’t scared of dying.

He was scared of losing you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost bruising, but you didn’t flinch. You just turned to him, eyes soft, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “Still okay?” you asked softly.

Niragi stared at you.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking falling apart.

But he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You ask too many questions.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand again. “You never answer them.”

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But still, he held your hand a little tighter.

It was nothing.

It had to be.

Niragi told himself that over and over again, the words pounding in his skull like a drum. It was fucking nothing. You were just soft. Soft people did soft things. That’s all it was.

It was nothing when you brushed the hair from his face back at the apartment, your fingertips gliding over his skin like he wasn’t a fucking monster.

It was nothing when you tied his hair up for him, gentle and patient, your fingers carding through the strands like you actually gave a shit.

It was nothing when you sat close to him on the couch, your shoulder pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him.

It was nothing when you leaned your head on his shoulder, soft and sleepy, like he was something safe.

It was nothing when you pressed your little pink bag into his chest some of these days and asked him to hold it while you fixed your shoes. When you giggled because it looked ridiculous, this big, dangerous man holding your delicate little things. When you thanked him after, like it actually meant something.

It was nothing when you cried after he killed that man and still let him wipe your tears away. When you leaned into him, small and shaking, while he whispered quiet, cruel things into your ear, his hand stroking your hair. When you let him carry you after, your soft little body in his arms, trusting him not to drop you, not to hurt you.

It was nothing when you slept in his arms, soft breaths ghosting over his neck, your fingers curling into his shirt. When he stayed awake the whole night, walking, then sitting down, feeling the rise and fall of your body with every breath.

It was nothing when you turned to him just now, holding out your hand, soft and open, and waited for him to take it. When you squeezed his fingers and smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world. When you asked if he was okay, like you actually cared.

It was nothing.

But then why did it feel like he was fucking burning?

Niragi’s grip on your hand tightened, his nails digging into your skin. You winced slightly but didn’t pull away. Of course you didn’t. You never did.

You were so fucking stupid.

Didn’t you know what he was?

Didn’t you understand what he could do to you?

He could crush your hand in his, snap your fingers one by one just to hear you scream. He could shove you against the nearest wall, pin you there, and take whatever softness you kept offering him, whether you wanted to give it or not. He could kill you. Right here. Right now. Just because he could.

But he wouldn’t.

Because you’d ruined him.

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth so hard his head ached. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy and loud, drowning out everything but the sound of your soft breaths. His skin burned where you touched him, his body screaming for more. More of your warmth. More of your softness. More of you.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He hated himself more.

Because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to care. This world didn’t have room for feelings. Feelings made you weak. Attachments got you killed. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago, and he’d thrived on it. He’d burned every soft part of himself down to ash, replaced it with violence and cruelty and fire.

But you…

You made him want to feel.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath ragged, trying to shove the feeling down. Trying to drown it in the darkness. But it clawed its way back up, sharp and relentless, cutting through him like a fucking knife.

Because the truth was, he wanted you.

He wanted to feel your soft hands on his skin. He wanted to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. He wanted to hear you say his name—soft and sweet, like a prayer—while he carved himself into every inch of you.

But more than that…

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t know how to love. All he knew was how to take. How to destroy. How to burn everything he touched to the ground.

And if he kept you… if he let himself have you…

He would ruin you.

Just like he ruined everything else.

Still, he held your hand a little tighter.

And you let him.

It wasn’t enough.

Your hand in his—soft, small, trusting—it wasn’t fucking enough.

Niragi’s grip tightened, his nails biting into your skin, but you didn’t pull away. You never did. You just kept walking, soft little fingers tangled with his, humming some quiet song under your breath. Like you weren’t walking beside someone who’d killed for less than a wrong look.

Like you weren’t inches away from being ripped apart.

Because that’s what he wanted to do.

Tear you open. Rip you apart. Crawl inside and make a home of you.

His blood burned hot beneath his skin, boiling over into something dark and messy, something he could barely choke down. He was never good at choking things down—never good at holding himself back. Not when he wanted something. Not when it burned through him like this, heavy and suffocating, curling around his throat and squeezing until he could barely fucking breathe.

And god, he wanted you.

He wanted you soft and begging underneath him. Wanted to bruise your sweet little skin with his teeth, his fingers, his everything. He wanted to shove you against the nearest wall and make you feel every inch of him, wanted to hear you gasp and whimper and cry for him. He wanted to ruin you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That was the problem.

If it was only that, he could handle it. He could fuck you and forget you, break you open and leave you behind like he had with every other fragile little thing that crossed his path. He could burn through you and walk away without a second thought.

But this? This was worse.

Because he didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to keep you.

He wanted to shove you behind him whenever danger came too close. Wanted to feel your soft little fingers in his hair, tying it back like you did that day in the apartment, soft and patient, like you actually liked taking care of him. Wanted to wrap his arms around you at night and feel your heartbeat against his chest, soft and steady, reminding him that you were still alive.

He wanted to be the only one who got to see you like this—soft and sweet and trusting. He wanted to be the only one you reached for when the darkness pressed in too close. The only one who got to hear your little giggles, your quiet hums, your soft breaths in the dead of night.

He wanted to lock you away. Keep you hidden. Protected. Safe.

His.

His jaw clenched, his body tight with something dark and ugly. He shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t want like this. It wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right.

But Niragi had never been normal. And he sure as hell had never been right.

He was ruined. Rotten. A monster dressed in human skin.

And you… you were an angel.

Soft and sweet and his. Even if you didn’t know it yet. Even if you never would.

He squeezed your hand, dragging you closer, and you stumbled slightly, looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He ignored you, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest, heavy and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

You should run.

You should be scared.

You should have never reached for him in the first place.

But you didn’t run. You didn’t pull away. You just squeezed his hand back, soft and patient, like you were comforting him.

And god, that was the worst part.

Because Niragi didn’t deserve comfort. Didn’t deserve kindness. Didn’t deserve you.

But that didn’t mean he was going to let you go.

No.

You were his now.

And he’d burn the whole fucking world down to keep you.

Your yawn was soft. Barely more than a little breath, muffled against the back of your hand. But Niragi heard it. Of course, he heard it. He heard everything when it came to you. The soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement. The quiet little hum you made when you stretched. The gentle sigh that slipped from your lips when you looked up at the stars, eyes soft and distant, as if the sky held some kind of answer you were searching for.

It made him sick.

You yawned again, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, soft and sleepy. Then you turned to him, blinking slowly, your lips parted, voice soft and sweet. “Aren’t you tired?” you asked quietly, concern flickering across your face. “You’ve been walking all day… maybe we should stop soon.”

You were worried about him.

Him.

Niragi swallowed thickly, his throat tight. His fingers curled tighter around yours, his breath ragged, his body taut like a live wire.

Tired?

No. He wasn’t fucking tired. How could he be tired when you looked at him like that? When you spoke to him like that? When you touched him like this, soft and trusting, like you didn’t know you were dancing with a monster?

Tired?

No. He was burning.

He wanted to shove you up against something and watch the fear bloom in your eyes. Wanted to press his body against yours, trap you there, feel every soft inch of you against him. He wanted to hear you gasp—soft and breathless—as he dragged his teeth along your throat. Wanted to feel your pulse flutter against his tongue. Wanted to mark you. Bruise you. Own you.

He wanted to rip that stupid little pink bag from your hands and watch it fall to the ground, forgotten. Wanted to slip his fingers into your hair, tugging hard, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. No choice but to see him. To see what you’d done to him.

He wanted to feel your breath hitch when he leaned in, close enough to taste you. Wanted to feel the way your body trembled beneath his touch—whether from fear or something darker, he didn’t fucking care. He wanted to drag his tongue over your pulse, slow and deliberate, feeling the way it pounded beneath your skin. He wanted to sink his teeth into your throat, hard enough to make you cry out.

He wanted to tear you apart.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Piece by fucking piece.

But more than that…

He wanted to hold you after. Wanted to feel the weight of you in his arms, soft and spent, trusting him to keep you safe. He wanted to run his fingers through your hair, soft and slow, while you drifted off against him. Wanted to feel your breath against his skin, soft and steady, a quiet reminder that you were still alive. Still his.

He wanted to keep you.

Niragi didn’t keep things. Niragi destroyed things. He burned them down. Tore them apart. Left them broken and bleeding in his wake.

But you…

You just looked up at him, soft and trusting, your eyes gentle, your lips parted. “Niragi?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

He laughed.

Low. Bitter. Broken.

No. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking ruined.

“Fine.”

You just squeezed his hand again, soft and patient, and kept walking.

Niragi let you.

It hit him like a bullet to the chest.

He wanted you.

Not in the fleeting, careless way he’d wanted things before—not like a cigarette between his lips, burned down to the filter and flicked away without a second thought. Not like the random girls at the Beach, faceless and nameless, used to fill the void for a few desperate moments before he shoved them off and left them behind.

No. This was different. This was worse.

He wanted you in a way that scraped at the inside of his skull and twisted something dark and ugly in his chest. It made his skin feel too tight, his throat dry, his body heavy with a need he couldn’t even begin to name.

He wanted you. So fucking bad.

He wanted to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close, feel the soft press of your body against his. Wanted to bury his face in your neck, breathe you in, drown himself in your warmth until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

He wanted to pin you beneath him, feel you squirm, hear you whimper his name in that soft little voice of yours. Wanted to drag his teeth over your skin, taste you, mark you, ruin you. Wanted to see you fall apart under his hands, wanted to watch the way your body trembled for him, wanted to hear the sweet little sounds you’d make when he finally, finally took you.

But it wasn’t just that.

That would have been easy. That he could handle.

What made it worse—what made it unbearable—was that he wanted more.

He wanted you pressed up against his side, soft and sleepy, your head resting on his chest while his fingers tangled lazily in your hair. Wanted to hear your quiet breaths, steady and soft, lulling him to sleep. Wanted to wake up with you curled against him, your body warm and soft and his.

He wanted to hear you laugh. Wanted to see the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled, wanted to be the reason for it. Wanted to hear you say his name—not in fear, not in pain, but soft and gentle, like a secret just for him.

He wanted to protect you. Keep you safe. Keep you his.

The realization made his stomach twist, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. His hand tightened around yours, but you didn’t flinch.

You shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He was a fucking monster. A killer. A creature made of violence and rage and blood. He’d burned away every soft part of himself a long time ago, torn out anything that even resembled kindness and left it to rot in the dirt.

But then you came along.

Soft and sweet.

You smiled at him. Talked to him. Touched him.

You held his hand like it meant something.

He fucking liked it.

It made him want things. Soft things. Stupid things. Impossible things.

It made him want you. Want want you.

His grip on your hand tightened, almost painful now, but you just squeezed his fingers softly, your warmth bleeding into his skin.

He wasn’t okay. He was fucked. Completely, utterly fucked.

Because he wanted you.

More than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire goddamn life.

And he was going to have you.

One way or another.

~

Acceptance came easy to Niragi.

Why wouldn’t it?

He wanted you. He accepted it.

There. Simple. Done.

What was the point in denying it? In pretending he didn’t want to sink his teeth into your soft little neck, mark you up, make sure every inch of you knew you were his? What was the point in fighting the way his fingers twitched with the urge to brush the hair from your face, the way his chest burned whenever you looked at him like he wasn’t a fucking monster?

No. Niragi never ran from what he wanted. He took it. Claimed it. Burned everything down until it was his and only his.

So yeah, he accepted it.

He wanted you. Badly. Madly. Completely.

And now, as you walked beside him, your small hand curled in his like it belonged there, your head drooping a little with exhaustion after walking all night, Niragi didn’t even hesitate.

The whistle ripped from his lips—sharp and loud, echoing off the empty buildings around you—and Chishiya’s steps slowed ahead of you, his shoulders tensing. He turned, shooting Niragi a flat, unimpressed look.

Niragi grinned. God, he lived to piss that little bastard off.

“What?” Chishiya drawled, voice dry, bored, already annoyed.

Niragi tugged on your hand, pulling you gently toward the curb. “She needs to sit.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “I’m fine—”

“Sit.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument, and your eyes softened at the sound of it. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the curb, pulling your pink bag into your lap, and Niragi crouched beside you, his long legs folding easily, his arm resting over his knee.

Chishiya stared at the two of you, his expression unreadable, his gaze flickering briefly to you before landing back on Niragi. “Oh? Since when do you care?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Since it’s my fucking problem if she collapses, genius.”

Chishiya scoffed softly, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “She wouldn’t be collapsing if you let her sleep.”

“And she wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t around to keep her safe.” Niragi shot back. “So how about you shut the fuck up and let me handle it?”

Chishiya stared at him for a long moment, the air tense, electric, and Niragi could see it—the irritation bubbling just beneath Chishiya’s calm facade. It made his blood sing.

But then Chishiya’s gaze flickered back to you, soft and sweet, curled up on the curb, your head resting against your knees, your eyes half-closed with exhaustion, and something flickered behind his eyes. Something dark. Something possessive.

Niragi’s grin slipped.

That was his look.

His hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. He wanted to grab Chishiya by the throat, slam him into the pavement, tear that bored little smirk off his face. He wanted to make sure Chishiya never looked at you like that again.

But then you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, your warmth seeping into his skin, and just like that, the rage melted away.

He glanced down at you, his breath catching in his throat. God, you were so fucking soft. So warm. It made something inside him twist, tight and painful, burning hot.

Chishiya could watch all he wanted. It didn’t fucking matter.

Because you were here. With him.

And Niragi would tear the whole fucking world apart before he ever let that change.

He was not scared.

No. Absolutely not. Scared was for weaklings. For soft, pathetic little things that cowered in the corner and hoped the world would spare them. Niragi wasn’t scared. Niragi made people scared. He was the monster in the dark, the gun against your skull, the last laugh you’d ever hear before the world went black. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t get scared.

Except… well.

Okay, maybe there was this one thing. One teeny, tiny thing. And by thing, he meant you.

But that didn’t count. That was different.

He just… He didn’t want to fuck it up, okay? That’s all. No big deal.

You were warm. Soft. Sweet. Everything he’d never had. And now you were here, sitting next to him, leaning your tired little head against his shoulder, trusting him like he was something good—and for once in his miserable fucking life, he had something to lose.

And that? Yeah. That made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to think about.

So no, he wasn’t scared. He was just… cautious. Smart. Calculating. Yeah. That.

Because what if you said no? What if you looked up at him with those soft eyes of yours, and there was fear there? Or worse—pity. Like you felt sorry for him. As if he was some kind of pathetic little stray you’d picked up off the street. As if the twisted, ugly thing inside him could be fixed.

And what the hell would he do then?

Niragi tightened his grip on his knees, his jaw clenching. No. No way. He wasn’t scared. He just wasn’t a fucking idiot. That was all. He’d bide his time. Play it smart. No need to rush. You were already here.

Meanwhile, Chishiya—fucking Chishiya—just stood there. Staring. Like the smug little bastard he was.

Oh, Niragi knew Chishiya was watching him. Always watching. Niragi could practically feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. And sure, it could’ve been another one of Niragi’s little mood swings—god knew he had plenty of those—but no. This was different. Chishiya knew better.

Chishiya was smart. Annoyingly smart. The kind of smart that made Niragi want to bash his head in with the nearest blunt object. And right now, Niragi could practically hear the little gears turning in that pretty head of his. Trying to figure him out.

Yeah, good luck with that, asshole.

Chishiya shifted slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the two of you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Niragi could feel the judgment radiating off him in waves.

If Niragi had a bullet, it’d be in Chishiya’s head right about now.

Yeah, the asshole wasted all of them.

But you? Oh, you had no idea.

You just sat there, half-dead, blinking sleepily at the empty street like the world’s saddest little creature. Niragi glanced down at you, his scowl softening. Christ. You looked pathetic. And adorable. And pathetic. Like a wet kitten that had been left out in the rain. All droopy eyes and soft little sighs.

Niragi shifted slightly, his arm pressing against yours. You didn’t even react. Just blinked slowly, like you were seconds from passing out, your pink bag clutched tightly in your lap. God, you were so fucking cute it made him sick.

“You okay?” Niragi asked, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. “Mm. Yeah. Just… tired.” You yawned, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Bleh.”

Bleh.

Niragi almost laughed. Jesus. You were ridiculous.

But then you shifted closer, rubbing your head against his shoulder, Niragi felt his chest tighten. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head, resting his chin against the top of your head. You didn’t pull away. You never pulled away.

And that? That was almost worse than if you did.

Because it made him want. God, he wanted. Wanted to pull you into his lap and hold you there, feel every soft inch of you pressed against him. Wanted to bury his face in your hair and just… breathe. Wanted to tell you that you were his. That he’d kill for you. Burn the whole fucking world down for you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he just sat there. Quiet. Still. His arm brushing against yours, his fingers curling into his palm, his breath slow and steady.

And Chishiya? Oh, Chishiya saw everything.

Niragi could feel his gaze. But Chishiya didn’t say a word. Just stood there. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

Niragi squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tight, his heart pounding in his chest.

Not scared. Not scared. Not scared.

Just… waiting.

Because eventually, you’d see.

Eventually, you’d understand.

You were his.

And one way or another… he was going to make sure you never forgot it.

But the pavement was cold. Not that you minded much. It was kind of nice, actually. Cool against your legs, the rough texture digging into your skin through the fabric of your pants.

You blinked slowly, your eyes half-lidded, watching the empty street in front of you. The buildings stretched up into the sky, dark and quiet, their windows hollow and empty. Everything felt still. Silent. Like the world was holding its breath.

You sighed, your head tipping slightly forward, not partly resting on Niragi’s collarbone, too. He was warm. Really warm. Almost too warm, but you didn’t care. You leaned into him, your body soft and pliant, your eyelids fluttering shut for a moment before you forced them open again.

“How come we’re not there yet?” you mumbled, your voice soft and slurred, like you were half-asleep. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

Niragi shifted beside you, his body tensing slightly, but you barely noticed.

“We’ll get there when we get there.” he muttered, his voice low.

You blinked slowly, trying to process that. It felt like you’d been walking forever. Was the Beach even real? Or was it just some stupid dream? Some distant promise you’d all made up to keep yourselves moving?

You sighed again, your fingers curling into the fabric of your bag, holding it tightly against your chest. Your whole body ached, your legs heavy and sluggish, your eyes burning with exhaustion.

You just wanted to sleep. Right here. On the cold pavement. It wouldn’t be so bad.

Chishiya stood a few steps away, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you quietly, his eyes flickering between you and Niragi, taking in the way you leaned against him, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the slow, steady blinks that meant you were seconds away from passing out.

“We should stop for the night.” Chishiya said softly. “She’s tired.”

Niragi scoffed. “No shit, genius.” His arm shifted slightly, pressing against yours. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m not fine.” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired.”

Niragi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll live.”

You pouted, your brow furrowing. “But I’m tired.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You were already slipping further into sleep, your body growing heavier, your head resting more firmly against his shoulder.

Chishiya could see the way Niragi’s jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you, the way his body tensed every time you shifted against him.

“Just let her sleep.” Chishiya said quietly.

Niragi scowled. “Mind your own business.”

Chishiya raised a brow, but said nothing.

The silence stretched out, heavy and tense, the only sound your soft, steady breaths.

“Fine.” Niragi muttered. “We’ll stay.”

Chishiya smirked. “Good choice.”

Niragi glared at him, but said nothing.

Instead, he shifted slightly, pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you against him.

Niragi hated him.

God, he fucking hated him.

Every little thing about Chishiya made his skin crawl. The way he stood there, all quiet and smug, like he had it all figured out. Like he was some fuckass puppet master, sitting back and watching while everyone danced on his little strings. It made Niragi’s fingers itch for the rifle next to him on the ground. It made him want to hurt something.

But the worst part? The thing that really twisted the knife?

It was the way you looked at him.

Even now—half-asleep, head resting against Niragi’s shoulder, body soft in his arms—you still glanced at Chishiya. Still checked for him. Niragi could see it in the soft flutter of your lashes, the subtle tilt of your head, the way your gaze flicked over to that quiet fucker.

And Chishiya? Oh, he saw it too.

That was the thing about Chishiya. He didn’t have to say a damn word, and Niragi could still hear the condescension, loud and clear. It was in the slight raise of his brow, the curve of his lips—just shy of a smirk. Like he knew exactly what Niragi was thinking. Like he knew exactly what Niragi wanted.

Because of course he fucking did. Chishiya was smart. Too smart. He saw everything. Saw the way Niragi’s grip on you tightened, the way his thumb brushed slowly over your arm, the way his body angled towards yours, like you were something to be shielded.

Chishiya wasn’t threatened.

He didn’t need to be.

It drove Niragi insane.

And what drove him even more insane was the fact that you never seemed to notice.

You sat there, pressed against Niragi’s side, your body soft and sweet and warm, and Niragi wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

But that wasn’t all he wanted. No. Niragi was twisted. Fucked up beyond repair. He wanted to mark you. Ruin you. Make sure that every time you closed your eyes, it was him you saw. Not Chishiya. Not anyone else. Just him.

And yet—for all his fire, for all his rage—he still held back.

Because for the first time in his miserable fucking life… he was afraid.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not even to himself. But it was there, festering in the pit of his stomach. The fear that if he pushed too hard, too fast, you’d slip through his fingers. That you’d look at him the way everyone else did. With fear. With disgust.

So instead, he just sat there. Silent. Tense. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Chishiya understood.

No, he didn’t want to understand. He wasn’t supposed to care about things like this. Not anymore.

But then you showed up.

Soft. Sweet. Open. An anomaly in this fucked up world. And somehow, without even trying, you wormed your way under his skin.

You were quiet. Gentle. So goddamn kind it made his teeth ache. And Chishiya hated himself for it, but there were nights—long, sleepless nights—where he’d lie awake and wonder what it would be like to touch you. To have your hands on him, soft and warm, tracing over the angles of his ribs. To feel you curl against his side, sleepy and trusting. To have you.

And Niragi? Niragi wanted the same thing.

That’s what made Chishiya’s blood boil. Not that Niragi wanted you. But that Niragi got to hold you. That Niragi got to touch you. While Chishiya stood there, silent and still, watching from the shadows.

He could see it, clear as day. The way Niragi looked at you. Like you were something holy. Something to be worshiped. Something to be owned.

Chishiya wanted to tear his fucking throat out.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, arms crossed, gaze flicking between the two of you.

Because that was the difference between them.

Niragi burned hot. Chishiya stayed cold.

But they both wanted you.

(AN: Listening to The Red Means I Love You while writing the part where Niragi holds ur hand is an otherworldly experience I’m FLOATING) (Next song on the playlist, ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIIIIS) (writing these as I’m writing the story itself, I’ll put it at the end of the post later) (ily) (the playlist I have for the fic is insane)

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth

[eurydicees]

aaaand gliyeraba, things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

lie to me (i'll forgive you), but don't lie to yourself

summary: an accusation, or a confession, or maybe a lie, that elphaba was not ever meant to hear. prompt: things you said that i wasn't meant to hear pairings: glinda upland/fiyero tigelaar (established) talking about their love for elphaba words: 882  warnings: none 

Elphaba has been standing in front of her dorm room door for five minutes, long enough that at least two other students have walked past and given her strange looks. It probably looks strange: a girl, green; alone in front of her own bedroom door, clearly eavesdropping on whoever is inside. 

The fact that it looks so odd, even for her, is probably a sign that she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be paused outside of her own door listening to her roommate and her roommate’s boyfriend talking inside. It’s an invasion of their privacy. She shouldn’t be hearing any of this. It’s not fair to be here, listening, when they don’t know she can hear. 

But Galinda doesn’t really have a quiet mode, and Fiyero has the kind of booming voice that carries through thin wooden doors even when he doesn’t intend for it to. So when Elphaba got back from her seminar with Madame Morrible and she stood in front of the door fumbling with her key—that is to say, when she caught the distant syllables of her own name, she paused. And she started listening. 

She can only catch every other sentence, every few scattered words. The conversation doesn’t really make any sense. 

“—trying to have a real conversation,” Fiyero is saying, sounding more agitated than Elphaba has ever heard from him. The easy, carefree banter is over; the prince who charmed Galinda into young honeymoon love is nowhere to be heard. 

“And I’m participating,” Galinda tells him, but her words are short and clipped, and it’s clear to all three of them that she does not at all want to be participating. 

Fiyero is silent for a long moment; long enough that Elphaba almost considers the conversation done and puts her hand on the doorknob. Then, “You’re going to have to get better at this, you know.” 

“Better at what?” 

“Real conversations,” Fiyero tells her. His voice is low, but steady. Firm. “If you’re going to get her attention anytime soon, you’re going to have to learn to have a conversation about something that matters.” 

“And when did you become the expert on my roommate?” Galinda sneers. 

There’s a kind of breathlessness to Fiyero’s words when he says, “Around the time I realized we both feel the same about her.” 

Galinda is silent, and the quiet is tangible, palpable. Elphaba is tense, wound up, ready to burst into the room and fall apart. Bare her heart and her every vulnerability to beg one of them to explain in more words what the fuck any of that means. 

Finally, Galinda speaks again, shaking voice giving away the lie: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You do.” Fiyero’s words are sharp as a knife. “You can deny it as much as you want, Galinda, but we both know how you feel.” 

“She’s my roommate,” Galinda tells him. There’s a terrible, previously unknown lack of composure to her. She sounds like she’s trembling, like she’s breaking into pieces. “She’s my best friend.” 

Fiyero doesn’t back down, but Elphaba finds herself silently begging him to. Begging him to stop this conversation before it goes too far. Before he pushes Galinda to the brink, before either of them admit to things that they can’t take back. Things that can’t be true. Things that can’t exist, can’t be kept. Things she can’t let herself dream of. 

“Fine,” Fiyero spits. “I’ll say it. I love you, Galinda, and I love—” 

“Stop it.” 

Another long beat of silence, and Elphaba realizes that her hands are shaking. She still has her ear pressed to the door, and she needs to hear what comes next no matter how much it terrifies her. She needs to know how he was going to finish the sentence, how he was going to break her heart. 

Galinda’s voice trembles when she speaks again, breaking the silence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what you’re saying. So don’t say it.” 

“Lie to her about it,” Fiyero says lowly, “but don’t bother lying to me.” 

Galinda is silent again, at a complete, terrifying loss for words for maybe the first time in her life. Elphaba needs her to say something, needs her to deny what Fiyero is implying, needs her to break this before it begins. 

He cannot be allowed to continue this train of thought. He cannot be allowed to want this—want her—not when Elphaba is who she is and Fiyero and Galinda are who they are. If that’s even what he’s implying; if she’s even the one they’re discussing. She knows that’s the only logical conclusion, but it feels so far out of the realm of possibility that Elphaba doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Get out,” Galinda says, voice thick and wet with tears. “We’re not talking about this.” 

“Galinda—” 

“Out.” 

Quiet inside, and Elphaba blinks once before scrambling to leave. She can’t face either of them right now. She needs to recalibrate by herself, needs to digest everything she heard without either of them giving more input. She hears footsteps approaching the door slowly, and Elphaba runs. She gets the fuck away from their room and makes herself scarce for the rest of the night, until long after Galinda has fallen asleep. 

[thrashkink-coven]

occultism is so insane because do you ever just have a fuckibgb REVELATION and it’s too fucking abstract to even put into words because aim shitting my pants guys

i don’t even know how to make his make sense but being interested in quantum mechanics as a Luciferian is fucking ccratxtzzxyyyy dude

Lucifer: Photons are superimposed until they are observed and are recorded at a specific point, light is photons propagating as a wave, technically, but light is nor a photon nor a wave but it’s own quantum object. A God is a hypothetical phenomenon that exists in all and no places until it is observed. Physical matter is frequencies exhibiting coherence, solidity is an illusion. Consciousness is contained within light. Every single particle in the entire universe emits light in the form of thermal radiation because all particles vibrate. Movement is being. I am a light-bringer, as long as there is something there is light. Excitation. A change in energy states. Close your eyes. Do you feel that? Forget your senses. Think about the exact point you occupy in space. You’re wrong. Think about how incredibly fast you’re moving. You’re orbiting the sun, and the sun is orbiting something else, you do not occupy a space, you’re not there anymore. The particles that made up you aren’t even close to there anymore. Heaven is unity with God and Hell is the separation from God, Heaven is superimposed. Let there be light. Let there be something, anything, and there will be light. How much light is radiating from you right now? how many billions of particles do you waft through every waking moment? Thank God for human perception. Thank God it is so limited. Archetypes merge and split, interfere with eachother like photons do. Gods are superimposed until they are observed. Multiple observations must interfere with eachother- or maybe they don’t. I am a light bringer. Phosphorus absorbs energy and radiates light. I seek light, I seek being. You are constantly radiating light, that is why I love you.

me: wwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh what what what what what the fuck what what wait stop stop stop stop wait

oh aw i love u too :)

[baekhyunsbestie]

Plsplsplsplsplsplspls sehun honeymoon hcs 🙊🙊🙊

🕊️ sehun honeymoon headcanons 🕊️

okay first of all, he’s taking you somewhere stupidly exclusive. like remote private villa in bora bora vibes. infinity pool. ocean view. no paparazzi. no phones. just you, him, and vibes immaculate enough to cure generational trauma.

he’s romantic in subtle ways. not grand gestures, but the little things: booking your favorite spa treatment, holding your hand during long walks on the beach, brushing your hair behind your ear while you talk like you’re made of glass.

he spoils you effortlessly. breakfast in bed, drawing bubble baths with flower petals, even drying your hair gently afterward. “you don’t do anything this week, baby. just exist. let me take care of you.”

brings his camera and takes the most gorgeous candid photos of you—sunlight in your hair, your laugh mid-bite, legs dangling in the pool. but then there’s another folder on his phone that’s locked with face ID 😏 let’s just say those pics are not for public viewing.

super clingy at night. you can’t sleep without him curling around you, arms snug around your waist, legs tangled, occasionally whispering sleepy “i love you’s” into your hair.

he talks about forever in the softest, most casual way. “we should come back here for our anniversary… every year.” or “you think our future kids would like this beach?” 😭

last night of the trip, he slow dances with you under the stars. barefoot, no music, just his heartbeat pressed against yours. “you know i’d marry you all over again, right?”

honeymoon sehun = possessive af. but let’s be real, he was already the most possessive one in exo before you even tied the knot. like he’s always been the quiet, watchful, touch-you-even-if-you’re-just-standing-there type. but now that you’re officially his wife? it’s cranked up to a million percent.

slow morning sex hits DIFFERENT. soft kisses, sleepy moans, your legs wrapped around his waist while he whispers “just wanna feel you like this forever.” but then he’ll flip you over mid-stroke and ruin your whole morning schedule. no regrets.

loves overstimulation. he’s not rough—he’s intentional. the type to edge you until you’re trembling, then hold you close and whisper “you can gimme one more, right?” while making you come apart all over again.

he lives for you in his clothes—but nothing underneath. you walk into the kitchen like that, and boom. he's pushing you onto the counter, one hand under your thigh, the other gripping your jaw. “you know what that does to me, don’t you?”

gets off on how fucking wrecked you look. flushed skin, teary eyes, shaky legs. kisses your temple with a smug little “so pretty like this… all mine.”

has a secret folder in his phone for the more explicit memories: videos of you moaning his name, his hand around your throat, your back arched while he whispers filthy things you wouldn’t dare repeat in public.

choking kink, praise kink, majorrrr possessiveness kink. mix it all with slow, deep strokes and you’ve got the kind of sex that makes you cry from the intensity, not pain.

aftercare king. wraps you in soft towels, kisses your forehead, makes you tea, rubs lotion into your thighs like you didn’t just get wrecked ten minutes ago. “ya good, baby? still breathin'?”

oh and if you tease him during the day? walk around in a tiny bikini or give him a certain look? he’ll make you pay for it that night. and by pay, i mean scream into a pillow while he ruins your entire soul 💀

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Hi, I'm obsessed with Falling from Grace, and I'm bursting with headcanon ideas, but the main one is how they would react to a reader who suddenly became strangely docile, clinging to them (the boys separately) after sex or during sleep.

oooh love this question

thank you so so much for the love and support to the series!!! please tell me alll your headcannons

HEED ALL WARNINGS OF THE SERIES, DARK MATTERS, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Joel Miller

- at first he be too blissed to notice, you slowly crawling up to him, blame it in the increasing winter cold or whatever

- he’ll wake up with you melting into his touch, his ever-there touch

- but then, when he was fucking you into the mattress and your legs wrapped around him, he snapped

- perhaps because he liked the aspect where he is punishing you, or perhaps because he can’t believe you’d actually could enjoy any part of this

- but he can’t confess to that, so he’ll just slap you and growl in your ear “What the fuck have you done?”

- As if you were actually planning something, as if this was all a rouse

- He’ll make you confess your non-existing sins some way or another, maybe another training session

Marcus Acacius

- He wouldn’t fucking let it slide the second he woke up with your arm around him in that tiny crowded bed

- But he wouldn’t think too much about it, just pushing you off, perhaps even off the bed

- And if you were truly moaning during sex, it would just make him go harder, because your breathy whines are music to his ears

- He always liked it up the ass, so when you began doing your best to stay still as he was opening you up, it would just push him to go further

- maybe, perhaps, he’ll team up with Joel, to see if they can fit both cocks inside you

- and your good behavior can only reach some limits - but he likes to see you cry, trying to scramble out of Joel’s grip as he stands between the two pairs of legs, full view of your leaking holes as he aligns himself beside Joel

Javier Peña

- He’ll definitely think it’s because of his good looks and charm

- Goodness gracious, when he tells you to ride him and you actually do it?!

- On his day, he’ll pull you up on his lap and smother kisses up your neck, watching you whimper lowly

- And if that wasn’t enough, he’ll return early from working in the camp to have you over the table, have them all watch as they find your hands laced around his nape and you actually kiss back

- They don’t need to hear the silent commands he whispers in your ear “C’mon gorgeous, give me a kiss, one more, preciosa.”

Oberyn Martell

- He’ll pretend he didn’t notice, but know something is off

- When you see him entering the threshold of his room and lift up your knees, just like he told he wanted you

- He’s mind duels on the idea of you developing Stockholm, but when you scream his name and cum on his tongue, a primal part of him pulls him to ignore that

- But then, he loves pushing your limits, see how long you can go before begging him to stop

- “I know you can give me one more baby, you squeezing the life out of my cock,” He mutters, pressing your back against the tiles. You knew the shower wasn’t over when he tuned off the water. “ t-there, you still keeping count?”

Whiskey

- It all started when he demanded you get on all fours, and you did it almost as a second nature

- Whiskey would use it to his advantage and teach you to suck cock, just the way he likes

- lot of sloppy tongue, a hand juggling his balls and the other along his shaft

- Teach you how to ride him too; cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, you name it - his thick hands holding your hips as he pressed you down deeper and deeper, calloused thumb flicking your clit

- And he’d love the way your finally slept on his chest, too entranced with the moonlit view of your closed eyes and how your lips parted against his skin

- He wouldn’t say anything, because that was the kind of intimacy he missed for so long

Dieter Bravo

- Oh he would get DELIRIOUS

- The second you weren’t begging him to stop, he already was planning on a serious chat with Joel about sharing you

- “You know man, she came on my cock after all,” He’ll brag. “moaning like a little slut, ever got that wet for you, huh?”

- That same night he’ll pull you onto his lap on the couch, ordering you to show them how you like it

- And then his face fell when you’ll just shrug, eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t get it, what do you want me to do?”

- “Don’t get all shy, show the boys how good a bitch you can be.”

- Joel, exhausted and frankly a bit jealous, would show him right there how good a bitch you could be

- and the once prestigious actor cannot handle the spot light being taken

- The humiliation he would reciprocate on you would be enough to have you pleading for mercy once again!

Frankie Morales

- oh he would feel so guilty

- he’ll know exactly why you are doing- because he is your saviour

- he’ll save you some grace, let you cuddle into him, let you look for him in times of need

- but he would be in so much pain, seeing how something so sweet as you is so heavily defiled

- but he’s human, and yearns for warmth too, perhaps in the same way you do it

[wei-ying-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those of you who don’t know, I decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus, which is comprised of 9 units. I have completed four of the units (here is my queer cinema syllabus round up post with all the films I’ve watched and written about so far). It is time for me to make my way through Unit 6- Gems, which includes the following films: Big Eden, Shelter, Weekend, Private Romeo, Were the World Mine, The Birdcage, Make the Yuletide Gay, The Sum of Us, Boy Erased, Boys, Summer Storm, C.R.A.Z.Y., North Sea Texas, Saturday Church, Boy Meets Girl, The Adventers of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Too Wong Foo Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar.

Today I will be watching:

Big Eden (2000) dir. Thomas Bezucha

[Run Time: 1h 58m, Language: English]

Summary: A thirty-something gay guy, Henry Hart, returns to his childhood Montana home to confront his unrequited passion for his high school best friend.

Cast: - Arye Gross as Henry Hart - Eric Schweig as Pike Dexter - Tim DeKay as Dean Stewart - George Coe as Sam "Sampa" Hart

IT WAS BIG EDEN DAY Y’ALL!!!!! DON'T LET THE STARS GET IN YOUR EYES, DON'T LET THE MOON BREAK YOUR HEART!!!!

When I saw this was on Ben’s syllabus I was so fucking excited because this is one of my favorite movies of all time. Listen, I have watched plenty of movies plenty of times, but this is one of the few films that I have seen where I legitimately watched it back to back. Like, fully the first time that I watched it I immediately started it back over because this film is a drug to me. 

Simply put this is a kind film that is just packed full of love and I am so grateful that we have some stories set in a very small town where homophobia is not a concern. We talk about the bubble in BL a lot and this film is kinda like a bubble show, but Henry’s very clear hesitation to tell Sampa that he is queer is a good way to still hint at the fact that homophobia does exist in this world and that Big Eden just doesn’t really do that. In this day and age with the current political climate being what it is, it is just comforting to be able to see a bunch of older cishet white men get thoroughly invested in helping Pike get his man. 

I LOVE THIS FILM. 

gif by @ballumville

It is really hard to talk about this film because every time I think about it legitimately I just get heart eyes and cease to put on an analytical brain about it. But now that I have to write about it, I gotta try to get some level of coherent thought out of it. 

The dichotomy between Dean and Pike is such a fascinating part of this film for me because Dean is straight and thus more openly affectionate with Henry and Pike is queer and therefore ready to run away every chance he gets when the boy he likes is in the room. I love this exploration Dean has around his own sexuality insofar as it is clear that he deeply loves Henry, but that that love is at the end of the day platonic and familial. But Dean kisses Henry in this movie. Like he tries so hard to give Henry what he wants because he knows how much Henry has been suffering from the two-decade crush Henry has had on him. It is one of my favorite aspects of this film. Whenever I sit down to watch it, I never feel like Dean is queer and just scared to pursue it, I feel like he is straight and is trying to pursue queerness because of how much he cares for Henry.

gif by @ober-affen-geil

But he just can’t. And that is heartbreaking to watch because Henry and Dean both know it from the start, but Dean is trying desperately to do whatever he can to keep Henry in his life, and to give him comfort. Thinking of this film in the context of this syllabus which is a lead up to BL, so many BLs have the general trope of “straight except for you” and though this film is not BL it could have very easily fallen in to that same category of Dean actually being queer by the end of the film, and I am really glad that they still allowed his straightness to exist.

Pike on the other hand, is very aware that he is queer, and he also deeply loves Henry, but in the romantic sense. And Pike is just a generally quiet and shy person compared to Dean. But whenever he and Henry are in the same room it looks like he is in physical pain being there, and that is so fucking fun to watch. This man is down bad. This man learns to cook and doesn’t tell Henry about it because he is just 6’2” of unadulterated devotion. I love whenever a story employs the concept of “food as love” and to see Pike work on continuously more complex dishes as his love for Henry continues to escalate just makes me want to scream. I love this man so much. I love him so much and I am so glad that he gets the guy at the end, because though I am not the biggest fan of Henry myself, all I could ever hope for in the history of the world is Pike’s happiness. 

gif by @ballumville

God there are just so many incredible relationship dynamics in this film. The way that Sampa knows that Henry is queer and is just waiting for him to tell him, the way that Sampa tries on multiple occasions to open the door and allow Henry space to come out. As someone whose parent confronted me about my own queerness and forced a conversation that neither of us was ready to have, I have such intense respect for the way that Sampa handled the last conversation he and Henry had about it. The way that he let Henry know that he knows and he is okay with it without coming right out to say it, without forcing the conversation, and honestly in my opinion, absolving Henry of the need to come out to him if he was too scared to do so. I know Henry still regrets not telling Sampa he is gay before Sam passed, but I also know at that point he didn’t have to. 

And I just have to give a shout out to Jim. Jim really is just sitting there holding Pike’s hand the whole way through trying to nudge him along until he gets what he wants. He knows that Pike is shy and he knows that Pike is scared, and is going to do whatever he can to get Pike to take the bigger risks. All the beloved old farts that park themselves in front of the general store every day are not so subtly, subtly push these two together. 

And of course, I just have to give a shout out to Widow Thayer for how she lets Henry know that she knows that he’s gay by inviting a fuck ton of gay men in to Henry’s home for a social gathering. The look on Henry’s face when he realizes what is happening is absolutely priceless.

All this to say, the film is a warm hug and everyone should watch it.

Favorite Moment 

Okay so the thing is there are a ton of great moments in the film, and before I talk about my absolute favorite one, I need to shout out the Thanksgiving fight between Dean and Henry because it is so good and so devastating “Screw you Henry Hart, I do know what love is. You. You are my family.” HELLO???????????????? Stabbing me in the chest would hurt less. 

gif by @tvandfilm

BUT. I think the award of WYKA’s favorite Big Eden scene is Jim’s conversation with Pike. The way he already bodied Pike in the “I’m just cooking food here.” “If only that were true.” conversation was excellent. But this is fundamentally a film about loving and being loved, and so my favorite scene is the one where Jim is trying to get Pike to stop delivering his love to Henry anonymously. The conversation Jim and Pike have where Pike is still vehemently trying to deny that he has feelings for Henry by telling Jim “I just want things to be nice for him,” Which? DEVASTATING. THAT LINE IS A GUT PUNCH EVERY FUCKING TIME I HEAR IT. To have Jim’s response be “The thing is Pike, we want things to be nice for you too, buddy.” It is so clear to me how important Pike is to the community, but to Jim and the rest of his posse especially. I just love that Jim takes the time to try to remind Pike that taking care of Henry quietly from the sidelines is just going to leave Pike continuously hurt, because how is Henry supposed to know that Pike cares about him when he is constantly fleeing the room whenever they are in the same space and when he lets Henry think that Widow Thayer is the one that is making all that food for him. 

Have I mentioned that I love Pike Dexter?

Favorite Quote

“Did I teach you shame? Did I teach you that? Cause it would break my heart if I had.” 

Sampa loves Henry and he wants Henry to know that he is a safe person to talk to, that he knows Henry is queer and keeping it from him, and that he wants Henry to tell him. This line also makes me so sad all the time because I know that it’s not true. That Sampa did not teach Henry shame, and I feel so badly that Henry’s (very reasonable) fear of coming out to the only living family member that he has left has placed Sampa in a position where he is worried that he has failed to make Henry feel safe and secure in who he is. 

gif by @thegirlbehindthegasmask

Score 

10/10

Is this actually a perfect movie? Fuck no. There are plenty of things I could nitpick with it, including the fact that I genuinely do not like Henry all that much as far as characters go. BUT. Every single time I watch this movie I am just overflowing with joy, and thus I will not be objective about the quality of the film. 

THIS FILM IS PERFECT BECAUSE PIKE DEXTER IS IN IT AND YOU WILL NEVER CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!!

gif by @fred-erick-frankenstein

[zxlofttt]

long rant

Genuinely what is wrong with me I know i have mental issues and I’m a person so it’s “okay,” But in my case it’s fucking ridiculous and embarrassing. I shouldn’t want to stay in bed all day and just rot. I shouldn’t just want to sleep my problems away. I feel like I’m trying but at the same point I don’t know what trying really is. I can’t do this anymore, the way I act genuinely sickens me. I hate myself, I hate my body, my attitude, my addiction, my style, my head, everything. I wish I don’t hurt everyone I touch. I wish I was gone. I’m probably dead already, I’m not alive I’m just existing. I feel like a zombie, I feel trapped in my own flesh unable to breathe, to get the air that I need. I have this hole in my chest that won’t go away. I feel as if I can only feel okay by cutting. And that by itself is a horrible thing. It’s like a fucking cycle, I feel bad, I relapse, I feel worse, i relapse, and it keeps going on. What the fuck is wrong with me, I know that temporary solutions don’t do anything in the long run but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what I’m even supposed to exist for. Is my only purpose to suffer? It fucking feels like I’m just a toy to be played with until I wear out. I get thrown away when no one wants me. My meds don’t work, it feels like the doctors are using me as a fucking lab rat. Like I’m some sort of toy. It’s a game of trial and error I guess. It’s fucking up my brain and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do anymore. I’m in slow motion, I’m too depressed to do anything. I feel dead. Nothing is fun anymore; I don’t have any motivation, I can’t focus in class (resulting to bad grades) I just wish I wasn’t this way, I wish i wasn’t born in this fucking body. I wish I could switch my brain out to be a normal person. I don’t know why I attempted at eight. What was going on was better than this. I should’ve been grateful for what I had, I should’ve treasured it because now it’s fucking gone. I lost my “childhood” at a young age due to my fucking mental health. I hate myself. I fucking DEPISE my soul itself. I beg for God to help me, ask him to take the pain away; I’d do anything. God hates me and it fucking shows. He trapped me in this body, this mindset, this fucking hole that I can’t get out of. I can just hope to claw my way up to the surface, no matter how much I bleed and get scarred, I just have to make it up there. I have to be free again i hwve to make it up there just one more time I need to be happy please I’m fucking begging you I will give my life to be normal again please

[coldretard]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Next Level of Yourself (@thenextlevelofyourself)