#the fingers drumming on the table you can SEE him very likely going over the mini/map inventory available for this ep in his head lol

[dior-luxury]

How'd They React To You Skipping School

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . comedy/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater . leona. floyd . vil . rook . silver . sebek . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: I had like no idea of what to post, so I just decided to post one of my drafts!

Cater Diamond

Cater is used to you doing your own thing, but when he realizes you're skipping school without telling him, it throws him off. He first notices your absence in class when he glances over at your usual seat and finds it empty.

"Huh? No way. Did she sleep in?" he mumbles, tilting his head.

He checks his Magicam feed just in case, and sure enough—there you are, chilling at a café, sipping on a fancy drink with a little dessert on the side.

"Omg. She’s out living her best life while I’m suffering in Trein’s lecture?? Rude."

At first, he considers letting it slide. After all, it’s not like he never ditches, but the more he thinks about it, the more a nagging feeling settles in his chest.

So, the second class ends, he shoots you a text.

Cay-kun 🧡: Baaaaabe, why am I seeing u on my Magicam instead of in class? U cheating on me with a strawberry shortcake? 😭🍰

You don’t reply right away. He sighs, leaning against a hallway wall. Then, an idea strikes him. If you’re going to skip school, why not have a real ditch day adventure?

Thirty minutes later, you’re peacefully enjoying your alone time when a very familiar voice chimes in from across the café.

"Omg, no way. What are the chances? I just happened to be in the area~", Cater says, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy grin.

You roll your eyes. "Cater, you totally left school to find me."

He laughs, taking a sip of your drink without asking. "Busted. But c’mon, how could I let my precious girlfriend have all the fun by herself? We could’ve planned a whole cute ditch day together!"

Though he’s joking, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—concern, maybe? You don’t miss the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the way his usual easygoing smile seems just a bit forced.

"Next time, at least tell me, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe. Plus, if you’re gonna skip, might as well do it with style. Matching outfits, cute couple photos—the whole deal."

Even though he’s being playful, you know he’s serious. And honestly? You wouldn’t mind skipping with him next time.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is no stranger to skipping school—hell, it’s practically his hobby. So when he hears from Ruggie that you didn’t show up to class, his first reaction is to scoff.

"Tch. So what? Not like it’s my problem."

But as the day drags on, something bugs him. He expected you to at least text him if you were gonna skip.

By the time lunch rolls around, his patience is gone.

Instead of going to class, he heads straight to his usual napping spot in the botanical gardens—where, conveniently, he finds you lounging on a bench, headphones in, eyes closed as you soak in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, he just watches. Then, with a sigh, he plops down beside you, one arm draped over the back of the bench as he tilts his head toward you.

"You got some nerve skippin’ without tellin’ me."

Your eyes snap open. "Leona? How’d you—"

"I am the king, y’know. I got eyes everywhere."

He leans in, his voice dropping to that low, lazy drawl that always sends a shiver down your spine. "So? You got a reason for dodging class, or you just felt like slacking?"

You mumble something about needing a break. Leona raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hmph. Well, can’t say I blame you. But if you’re gonna play hooky, at least do it right."

Before you can react, he shifts, lying down with his head in your lap, eyes already closing.

"Since you’re already here, you might as well stay. I ain’t letting you run off alone again—next time, you skip, you tell me first. Got it?"

His words are firm, but the way his hand lazily rests on your knee, fingers tracing absentminded patterns, tells you everything you need to know.

You weren’t just skipping school—you were skipping him. And Leona Kingscholar doesn’t like being left out.

Floyd Leech

When Floyd finds out you skipped school, the reaction is instant and dramatic.

It starts when he bursts into your dorm room, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Shrimpyyyyy~ Why weren’t you in class today?"

Before you can even answer, he flops down onto your bed, stretching like a lazy cat.

"I was soooo boooored. Sitting in class with no Shrimpy to tease? Ugh, it was awful!"

You roll your eyes. "Floyd, it’s just one day. I needed a break."

The air shifts.

Floyd props himself up on one elbow, his usual playful smile still in place, but there’s something more intense behind his eyes now.

"Hmm. A break from school? Or a break from me?"

You blink. "Wait, what? No, that’s not—"

Before you can finish, he’s suddenly on top of you, his long fingers gently but firmly pressing against your wrists. His grin widens, but his grip tightens just slightly.

"Y’know, if you wanted to play hooky, you could’ve just told me. We coulda done something fun together." His voice drops to a murmur, lips brushing against your ear. "But instead, you ran off all alone… That’s kinda mean, don’tcha think?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Floyd, I didn’t mean it like that—"

In an instant, his mood flips back.

"Hehe, just kidding~!" He suddenly rolls off you, laughing as he sprawls out on the bed again.

"Buuut next time you skip, I’m coming with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shrimpy doesn’t get to run away from me, got it?"

Despite the playfulness, you know he’s dead serious. And honestly? It’s safer to just agree. Because when Floyd wants something…

He gets it.

Here’s how Vil, Rook, and Silver would react to you skipping school, each in their own unique way!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil notices your absence immediately. He keeps a close eye on you—not in an overbearing way (or so he claims), but enough to know when something’s off.

It starts when he walks into class and sees your seat empty. He frowns.

"Where is she?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Even Rook, who usually lets things play out naturally, raises an eyebrow at Vil’s reaction.

"Perhaps ma belle has decided to take an impromptu escape from the drudgery of academia?"

Vil clicks his tongue. "Hardly. She wouldn’t skip for no reason. Which means…"

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings. And rings. No answer.

Vil is not amused.

By lunch, he has had enough. With a sigh, he closes his notebook, stands up, and says, "If the professors ask, tell them I’m handling a… personal matter."

A few students exchange glances, but no one questions him. When Vil Schoenheit is on a mission, he gets what he wants.

—

You’re lounging at a quiet spot near the outskirts of campus, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, when suddenly—

"There you are."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

Vil stands before you, arms crossed, his violet eyes burning with irritation.

"Would you like to explain to me why you’ve chosen to neglect your studies today?"

You stammer out something about needing a break. The pressure of school, the endless expectations—it was all just too much.

For a moment, Vil just stares at you. Then, with a sigh, he walks over and gracefully sits beside you.

"I understand," he says at last, his tone softer now. "But running away won’t solve anything, my dear. If you were overwhelmed, you should have come to me."

His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.

"Your beauty, your mind, your potential—they are things that should be nurtured, not neglected. And if anyone dares to say otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me."

You swallow, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

"But…" he continues, tilting your chin up slightly, "if you ever pull something like this again without informing me, I will drag you back to class myself. Understood?"

With Vil, skipping school is not just about missing lessons. It’s about maintaining excellence—and to him, you deserve nothing less.

Rook Hunt

Rook doesn’t need anyone to tell him you skipped school. He feels it.

The moment he steps into the classroom, a shiver runs down his spine. He scans the room, and sure enough—you’re missing.

"Ah… mon trésor, where could you have vanished to?"

Anyone else might have let it go. But Rook? Rook Hunt?

Oh, no, no, no.

This is a hunt.

—

You think you’ve found the perfect hiding spot—a secluded meadow just beyond campus. The breeze is gentle, the grass soft, and the world feels so blissfully quiet.

But then—

"Ah…! What a rare and exquisite sight! A most beautiful creature, escaping the confines of duty to embrace the wild!"

You jerk up, heart pounding. "Rook?! How—"

He smiles down at you, eyes glimmering with delight.

"My dear, you wound me! Did you truly believe you could evade me?"

You groan. "Can’t I have one day to myself?"

Rook simply chuckles, kneeling beside you. "But of course! And what a splendid setting you have chosen! Ah, the crisp air, the golden sunlight—it is a moment worthy of poetry!"

You sigh, leaning back. "So, you’re not going to drag me back?"

Rook tilts his head.

"Non, non, ma chérie. Who am I to interfere with the call of your spirit?" His voice lowers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "However… I must ask—were you running to something… or from something?"

You pause. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Rook hums, plucking a flower and tucking it behind your ear.

"Whatever it is, you need not face it alone. If ever you wish to flee again… invite me along, oui? Let us embark on a grand adventure together."

His words are sweet, but the message is clear—next time, he will find you. And next time… you might not mind.

Silver

Silver is usually the one who accidentally skips class (thanks to his habit of falling asleep anywhere), so when he realizes you’re the one missing, it catches him off guard.

Lilia is the first to notice his concern.

"Looking for someone, Silver?" he asks, sipping his tea.

Silver hesitates. "She’s not here. She wasn’t in class this morning."

Lilia chuckles. "Ah, young love. Are you worried, or do you just miss her?"

Silver’s ears turn a little pink. "That’s not—"

But he is worried.

So, after finishing his morning duties, he sets off to find you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds you by a quiet stream, legs dangling over the edge, watching the water ripple. You don’t even hear him approach—until he’s sitting beside you.

"Skipping school, huh?" he says, voice calm but firm.

You sigh. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Silver shakes his head. "No. But I am here to make sure you’re okay."

You blink, surprised.

He gazes at the water for a long moment before speaking again.

"I get it. Sometimes, the world moves too fast. Sometimes, you just… need to stop." He exhales. "I’ve felt that way too."

His honesty takes you off guard.

"But," he continues, turning to look at you, "you don’t have to bear it alone. If you ever need to slow down… let me stay by your side."

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. Silver has always been gentle, always patient—but beneath it all is a quiet strength, one that makes you feel… safe.

He offers you his hand. "Let’s go back together. But if you really don’t want to, then I’ll stay here with you."

You stare at his outstretched hand. And for the first time today, you don’t feel like you have to run.

Because with Silver beside you, the world doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on being alert, disciplined, and ever-diligent in all things—so when he noticed your absence from class, his first instinct was absolute outrage.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed the moment roll call finished, slamming his hands down on his desk.

The entire class turned to stare. Even Lilia, who was used to Sebek’s theatrics, raised an eyebrow.

"Calm yourself, Sebek. I’m sure she has her reasons," Lilia said, sipping his tea.

Sebek whirled around. "Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify this?! My human— I mean, my beloved has abandoned her education!"

His heart raced in his chest, not just from frustration, but from concern. What if something had happened to you? What if you were in danger? What if—gasp—you were avoiding him?!

No. Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Sebek stormed out of class, determined to find you and drag you back to school himself.

—

You were relaxing in a quiet corner of the gardens, lying beneath the shade of a tree, finally enjoying some peace. That is, until—

"HUMAN!"

The roar of your name nearly sent you flying out of your seat. Before you could even react, Sebek loomed over you, arms crossed, golden eyes blazing with intensity.

"You dare to SKIP CLASS?! What kind of nonsense is this?! Have you no sense of duty?!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Sebek, please. Not so loud."

"LOUD?!" he repeated, even louder. "How can I possibly remain quiet when you have committed such a heinous act?! Skipping school—DISGRACEFUL!"

You sighed. "I just needed a break. I wasn’t in the mood for class today."

Sebek scowled. He wanted to scold you further—to lecture you on the importance of education, of discipline, of honor—but then… he saw the tired look in your eyes.

His frustration wavered.

"You… were not in the mood?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

You nodded. "I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just wanted to breathe a little, that’s all."

Sebek stiffened. His grip on his arms tightened. His natural instinct was to demand you push through it—to insist that duty must always come first.

But then… he thought of Lord Malleus. How often had his master been told to put his responsibilities first? How often had he been isolated because of that very thinking?

Sebek hesitated. Then, very slowly, he sat down beside you.

"If you were feeling unwell… you should have informed me." His voice was still gruff, but gentler now. "It is my duty to stand by your side, no matter the circumstance."

You blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. Sebek? Being understanding? That was new.

He cleared his throat. "But! This does NOT mean I condone such behavior!" He huffed, turning away. "If you must rest, then rest properly! Not by… skipping school like some delinquent!"

You smiled. "So, you’re not mad?"

"OF COURSE I AM—!" He caught himself, exhaled sharply, then muttered, "…Just do not make a habit of it."

You giggled. Despite all his dramatic ranting, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

And maybe, just maybe… Sebek Zigvolt cared more about your well-being than he let on.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus immediately noticed your absence the moment he stepped into class.

At first, he thought you were simply running late. But as the minutes passed and your seat remained empty, his usual calm began to crack.

"She is not here," he murmured to himself, fingers tapping lightly against his desk.

Lilia, watching from the side, smiled knowingly. "Ah, young love. Worried already?"

Malleus said nothing, but his green eyes darkened.

The moment class ended, he vanished. Not even his retainers could stop him.

—

You were peacefully sitting beneath a willow tree, flipping through a book, when the sky suddenly dimmed.

A chill ran through the air. The once-bright afternoon grew darker, as if the sun itself was hiding.

And then—

"There you are."

Your head snapped up. Standing before you, tall and regal as ever, was Malleus. His emerald gaze bore into yours, unreadable and intense.

"You did not come to class today," he stated. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. "I just… needed a break."

Malleus was silent for a long moment. Then, he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

"A break," he repeated softly. "From school… or from me?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, Malleus, I—"

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance. He stood so close, his presence towering, consuming.

"Do you understand how worried I was?" His voice was gentle, yet firm. "You disappeared without a word. Do you truly believe I would not seek you out?"

You fumbled for words, guilt creeping into your chest.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal—"

"You are my beloved."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, so absolute—made your breath hitch.

"Everything about you is a 'big deal' to me."

Your heart pounded. You opened your mouth to respond, but Malleus was already sitting beside you, his usual regal demeanor softening.

"If you wished to escape," he murmured, "you need only call for me. I would take you anywhere you desire."

His fingers ghosted over yours.

"But next time, do not disappear on your own. My heart does not take well to such… uncertainty."

A lump formed in your throat. You hadn't meant to worry him—not like this.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "I promise. Next time… I’ll tell you."

His expression eased, and a rare, soft smile graced his lips.

"Good."

And just like that, the sky brightened once more.

Malleus Draconia was no stranger to solitude. But when it came to you…

He would not tolerate being left behind.

[olessan]

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦! 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞! 𝒢𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒷𝓎𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝓉𝓉!

Matt's minis and battlemaps brain momentarily taking over

[snowluvvie]

FUCK AWFFF COLLEGE RODRICK

everybody gave you two the kind of “really, him?” “how’d he get her?” sidelong glances when you’d started dating in high school. you’d basically swooned over him the first time you’d met at school—but for most of your classmates, the way he’d chase people down to convince them to attend his band’s shows rubbed them the wrong way. most people would describe Rodrick as ‘desperate’—but they weren’t fucking him, so they didn’t know how truly desperate he was, did they? either way, it didn’t matter. you wanted him, you had him hook, line and sinker. you weren’t exactly upset that people weren’t trying to snatch your boyfriend from you—you got his shaggy hair that was always too long, his hands calloused from the drum sticks, his nervous smile that he tried to play off as a smirk. you got him. you liked it that way.

you went off to college together, and Rodrick looked different by the end of freshman year. he was different. he laughed at the frat boys and grimaced at the music they played at parties. sure, he’d always been into different stuff—but now he was confident about it. he liked his music. he liked his friends. he liked his band. and, of course, he liked you (doesn’t count though. that’s not controversial. everyone knows you’re hot.)

you noticed this change in confidence before anyone else did. before it showed in his eyes and his clothes, it showed in the way he grabbed your face to kiss you, tangled his hands in your hair, grinned into your mouth. it showed in the way his fingers dug into his hips when he was fucking you, the way he ran his mouth. it had always been “this is so hot” “i can’t believe i’m fucking you” “you’re so hot” with him. now, he was boldly moaning “you like that, huh? i can feel it” he chuckled at the way you gushed around him when he was buried inside of you, he loved it, and now he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.

people did notice him now, though. his new favorite bomber jacket did wonders for him, and his arms had gotten a little bigger underneath it. he wasn’t ‘hunky’ now, by any means, but in college people were a lot more forgiving of the eyeliner-and-unsuccessful-band thing. it wasn’t lame and desperate here, it was cool and niche. you two weren’t hot girl and “he makes me laugh” loser like they called you in high school—now you were hot girl and cool drummer boyfriend.

but even now that people actually come to his band’s dimly-lit club and coffee shop gigs, and buy some tees from the merch table, and giggle a little, waving their fingers and going “heyyy Rodrick, you were great this weekend!” when they walk past him on campus, it doesn’t really matter. you’re the one he searches for when he’s playing, grinning proudly at you in the crowd. you’re the one who sits shotgun in the band van, leaning on the center console while he tells you how pretty you’ve looked all night. you’re the one who passes out on Rodrick’s shitty dorm mattress with him, tangled together and attempting to kiss but failing because you’re both so exhausted, and the one who wakes up the next morning and watches him yawn and ruffle his hand through his dark hair, moving sluggishly through the dorm without a shirt and with eyeliner from last night still smeared on his face.

you’re the one he’s fucking—his people-pleaser desperate-for-validation tendencies are still very intact when it comes to you. his eyes still practically pop out of his head every time he sees your tits, he still has to squeeze his eyes shut when you dirty talk because the sound of your voice drives him insane, and he still rolls his eyes hard when you tell him that no, he can’t eat you out right now, you have to go to class. the audacity. at the end of the day, he’s your Rodrick, no matter how many other people are suddenly paying attention to him

[hairmetal666]

"Is this always how they act?" Jonathan asks. He has to lean close and yell a little for Robin to hear him over the noise of the house party.

"Yup," she says.

She, Jonathan, and Argyle continue to stare at Eddie, sitting in an easy chair, Steve perched happily on his lap. Eddie has a whole bowl of bbq Lay's, and Steve will lean back for a chip, which Eddie feeds him with a smile.

"And they're definitely not dating?" Argyle asks when Steve leans back to whisper in Eddie's ear, mouth pressed close. It's deeply gratifying that they just got in from California and already they see it.

"Steve says no."

"You think he's lying?" Jonathan asks.

"I think he doesn't realize he likes Eddie yet."

Eddie tugs at Steve's hair, and Steve turns back, gives him a smile that's so intimate Robin can't stare directly at it. Instead, she turns to her friends, but Argyle is still watching Eddie and Steve. He's drumming his fingers against his chin, expression what Robin could only call mischievous.

"What are you planning?" Jonathan asks.

"Just helping some bros find true love."

Jonathan looks mildly concerned but before he can say anything, Nancy makes her appearance. And they're something, becoming something, and she cares about Eddie and Steve getting their shit together, but Nancy is smiling and she's so, so pretty. It's easy to get lost in the blue of her eyes and the sweep of her hair and forget about everything else.

---

A few hours later and they're all sitting around a coffee table in the basement, just the six of them. It's sort of funny, she thinks, how it always ends up being the six of them.

They're crossfaded already, but that hasn't stopped Eddie and Argyle from lighting another joint. Her thoughts have gone light and floaty, all that's holding her to earth the press Steve's leg and Nancy's hand against hers.

Argyle is sort of monologuing and she doesn't think any of them are paying much mind, but then he stops mid-sentence, grips Jonathan's shoulder tight enough that his knuckles go white. "Dudes. What if we played Truth or Dare?"

Nancy snorts. "Not on your life."

"I don't think I can move?" She says. She leans into Steve, sighing with contentment.

"I, for one, would love to see Buckley complete a dare," Eddie says.

She sticks her tongue out at him. "I've done plenty. Band kid, remember?"

"Ugh, curse the horny trumpeters." Eddie slumps on the coffee table in defeat.

"I'll have you know, they were very wholesome games."

Steve squints at her. "Wasn't there an orgy in someone's pool?"

She sniffs, looks away instead of answering, which makes everyone laugh.

"Speaking of sex," Argyle says. "No one catch your eye tonight, Harrington?"

"Wasn't really looking."

"That's new," Jonathan says.

Steve laughs. "I'm tired of hooking up."

He's told her that too, countless times. She thinks the real reason he hasn't dated in months is sitting right next to him, drumming his fingers on the coffee table.

"Maybe you've just lost your touch," Argyle says.

"I have not!" Steve clutches a hand over his heart. "If I wanted to, I could pull any girl upstairs."

"C'mon, my dude, no way you're that good."

"I was!" He looks to Robin, Nancy, Jonathan. "I was, back me up!"

"I don't know, Scoops wasn't your best work," she says.

"No, no, we said Scoops doesn't count! It was the hat. The outfit! I did fine after!"

"I happened to think the sailor costume was very cute," Eddie says.

"Thank you," Steve preens. He shifts away from her to lean into Eddie, who grins.

"I don't think we can trust Eddie's judgement here," Nancy says.

Steve points at her. "Yes, and I remember you being totally uninterested."

She squeaks in indignation, Robin smothering her own giggles behind her hand. "It was--it was hormones!"

"Yeah, very uninterested in me." Jonathan chimes in. There's a little second where no one reacts--the fact that Nancy was technically still with Steve when that happened ringing unspoken between them--before Nancy and Steve start to giggle.

"I've hooked up with everyone I've ever tried to," Argyle chimes in, nonchalant.

"No way," the whole group says.

"I've got the touch."

"C'mon, that literally can't be true just by like...stats," Steve says.

"Don't know what to tell you, my dude." Argyle's smile is smug. "I'm really good."

"You're just jealous," she tells him. She nudges his shoulder so he knows she's joking.

"No! Jealousy has nothing to do with it."

They erupt at that, calling out the obvious lie.

"I'm not upset!" Steve shouts over them. "I'm just saying, it didn't happen. Sorry, Argyle. You have bizzaro charm, but there's no way it has a 100% success rate."

"Sounds like jealousy to me, Stevie." Eddie cocks his head with a smirk.

"Harrington, you're so cute when you're competitive," Argyle says. "Anyway, it worked on--"

"Don't say Jonathan," Nancy, Steve, and Robin all say.

"Hey! Why not me?'

"Well, it's just--" Nancy waves her hand in the air. "You're. I mean. It's not hard."

Jonathan groans, hides his face in his hands as they laugh.

"I'll prove it to you," Argyle says to Steve. "100% success rate."

"What?"

"I'm going to seduce you."

"Oh, shit," she says.

She knows what's going to happen even before Steve puts his hands on his hips, awkwardly cause they're sitting, cocks an eyebrow, and says, "Okay."

Eddie grumbles something she can't make out, but Steve shakes his head, laughs. "Nah, it's just for fun, right?"

"Until it works." Argyle tosses his hair.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Gimme your best shot."

They rearrange around the table, Eddie and Argyle swapping places.

Everyone is quiet for a second, Steve reaches for his drink. "You got great hands, Harrington," Argyle says.

"I--oh, what?" Steve splutters. He goes a little pink, and Robin thinks it's the first time she's seen him this flustered by a compliment.

"Yeah." Argyle takes his hand, traces along his palm and knuckles. "Big. Strong. Like you could really take care of someone."

Eddie kicks the table, sending it rocking, scattering empty cups and chip bags. Steve is crimson, totally oblivious to Eddie's flailing.

"Thanks," he mumbles. He doesn't pull his hand away. Robin, everyone, is riveted.

"No one's ever told you that?"

"No. No one."

"That's too bad. It's probably all about your hair and your eyes and your body."

Steve smiles and it's one she recognizes, flirty and a little wicked. "You noticed my body?"

Argyle laughs. "Oh, c'mon, you know everyone notices that."

"Would you believe it if I told you I don't get enough compliments?"

"Not on your life."

Steve leans into him, giggles. "Well, worth a shot, right?"

"Always. You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you?"

"Ass, right?"

"It was how much you love your friends but you hide it behind a facade of disapproval. Made me think maybe you weren't used to the love you want to give being reciprocated."

They're all locked in on Argyle and Steve, but she notices Eddie flinch, move like he's about to stand, Nancy reaching out to stop him. She thinks, then, for the first time, that maybe this is mean to him. He doesn't know it's not real.

"Oh," Steve says. His voice breaks, a little, and her heart breaks for him. "I--oh."

"Your ass was the second thing I noticed," Argyle quips and the tension around the table breaks, Steve giggling.

With smooth confidence she never would have expected him to possess, Argyle cards his fingers through Steve's hair. "Just had to touch it for myself." His voice is soft.

"That all you want to touch?"

Argyle grins. "Not even a little bit."

She watches, stunned, as Steve leans in, face almost touching Argyle's. Eddie makes a noise, a pained cough, and Steve leaps to his feet.

"I can't kiss you!" He half-yells, stumbling.

"And why not?" Argyle asks. He's got a wild smile on his face.

"I'm in love with Eddie!" Steve's eyes are wide, panicked.

"I'm sorry," Steve says to him. "Eddie, I--"

But before he can get the words out, Eddie's climbing over the coffee table, sending drinks and snacks flying, the calls for him to get down ignored as he trips into Steve's arms.

"You love me?" Eddie asks.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I--got in my head about it and I--I hoped it didn't seem like I was leading you on because my words kept getting stuck, and--"

"Sweetheart." Eddie stops him. "I--" He breaks off, notices that the rest of them are raptly listening to the confession. "Do you want to go somewhere we can talk?"

They disappear upstairs, and she turns to Argyle in awe. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"What can I say, I'm a miracle worker. Are there more Doritos?"

---

Early in the morning, they're piled in Nancy's station wagon, Jonathan driving them home. She and Nancy are in the middle seat, Steve and Eddie in the back. Steve's curled against him, face pressed to his neck, hidden by a cloud of hair. She wants to ask what happened, how their conversation went, if they're official and how long Steve's known he's in love, but Nancy moves closer, head dropping to Robin's shoulder. Their fingers entwine and Robin closes her eyes, smiles.

"Tomorrow?" Nancy asks.

She nods. "Tomorrow."

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 - 𝕖.𝕞.

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even prettier with the afternoon sun shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so that you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your…admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own chair. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go…I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like some bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh…sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[lovelylittlegrim]

Paint it Black

Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

pre-relationship - 1.4K words - no warnings

———————————————————————

“I like when you paint your nails.”

Eddie startles at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice, even with how softly he spoke. It’s been quiet for a while between them, a movie playing in the background that they’ve both seen before, the voices just muffled ambiance.

He looks up to find Steve staring at him. “What?”

“Your nails.” Steve holds up his own hand, wiggling his fingers like maybe Eddie will understand better if he sees what Steve’s talking about. “I like when you paint them.”

Eddie looks down at where he’s been steadfastly applying black nail polish to his right hand, it’s harder than doing his left but he’s had a lot of practice and he’s damn near perfect at it these days. The layer is even, glossy, not a smudge to be seen.

“Uh, thanks,” he says slowly, unsure what else there is to say. He peeks back at Steve through his bangs.

Steve hums and drops his hand back to the couch, he continues to watch Eddie even though Eddie’s finished.

“Do you want me to paint yours?” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s asking. He’s never seen Steve with painted nails before and… he can’t imagine it when he thinks about it. Steve in his crisp blue jeans and his clean polos, black on his nails. It would look so out of place. Like some dirty part of Eddie rubbed off on him. Tainted him.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“You can paint them, it’s not like anyone else will see.” Steve slides off the couch, joining Eddie on the floor at the coffee table. He drops his hands on the stained wood and splays his fingers. “I’ll take it off before my shift Thursday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Steve gives a single shoulder shrug, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “It’s not the first time my nails have been painted.”

That makes Eddie pause. “It’s not?”

“Robin paints my toes whenever she sleeps over. They’re probably still purple actually, I haven’t bothered to take it off, not like anyone sees my feet.”

“Oh,” Eddie huffs at the mental image of Steve with his face coated in a face mask and lotion, his bangs pulled up in a little rubber band and Robin painting his toenails every color of the rainbow.

Actually, it’s kind of cute. He wants to see Steve like that.

“So,” Steve drums his fingers on the table. “You gonna paint them?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pulls lightly on one of Steve's hands, drawing it closer to himself. “Don’t move.”

Steve doesn’t. He sits quiet and still, watching Eddie work without complaint. When Eddie’s done he leans back to inspect all of the nails, wiping at an edge here and there to clean it up, uncaring that he’s staining his own thumbs. When he’s satisfied he leans back in and lightly blows at the paint.

Somewhere above him, Steve’s throat clicks, and Eddie glances up at him through his lashes curiously.

“You’re much better at it than Robin,” Steve says after a beat. “She gets it all over my skin, doesn’t even try to clean it up.”

Eddie laughs, air puffing right out of his lungs. “I’ve met Robin so I’m really not surprised.”

He picks up one of Steve’s hands, turns it left and right to make sure he sees the paint from every angle, and makes sure there are no rough patches or opaque spots he needs to go over. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about it looking good, Steve’s just going to take it off in less than twenty four hours.

He drags his thrums lightly over one of Steve’s knuckles and then lets go, his fingers curling in on themself. “All done.”

Steve holds his hands up, fingers spread to see Eddie’s work. “It looks great.”

And it does.

Eddie grins as he twists the polish closed tightly and stuffs it back into his bag. He watches with something close to fond amusement as Steve very carefully settles back against the couch, hands on his knees so he doesn’t touch anything until the paint is well and truly dry. Eddie settles next to him, his own hands already dry enough to not cause a problem but he mirrors Steve and they watch the rest of the movie, making snide little comments about the acting and the plot.

He doesn’t let himself think about the feeling of Steve’s warm hand in his or the feeling of Steve’s eyes watching him so intently.

It’s not good for his health.

—

It’s two days later before he finally sees Steve again, the movies in Eddie hand already grievously late. Robin will chew him out but he knows Steve will waive the late fees with a stern waggle of his finger like a disapproving parent and tell him to do better next time. He’s so dorky, Eddie doesn’t know how the guy was ever cool in highschool except… Well, he does, because even now Steve is annoyingly good looking, better looking in Eddie’s opinion. More rugged even though he’s still so put together, confident in different ways and funny.

The bell jangles loudly when Eddie enters family video.

Robin looks up, eyes narrowing instantly. “You're late, Munson.”

Eddie winces. “Please accept my most humble apology, I was otherwise inconvenienced on the eve of these returns.”

“You mean you forgot until Wayne told you this morning.”

“Yeah.”

She snorts and holds her hands out for the videos. When Eddie gives them to her she says, “I better not have to rewind them.”

Eddie thanks Wayne over and over in his head for having the forethought to do that before forcing Eddie into Robin's clutches. “They are.”

“They better be.”

Eddie takes his time browsing the stacks of tapes. He knows what’s here, he spends most of his time bothering Steve and Robin but Steve’s on break in the back and he wants the chance of seeing him before he leaves.

It’s another ten minutes of staring at Night of the Comet before the door to the back opens and Steve strolls out. He spots Eddie instantly and Eddie grabs the movie he’d been stalking with and heads for the counter.

“Hey,” Steve grins. “You finally returned your movies.”

He holds his hand out for the new tapes and Eddie goes still. His eyes wide as he takes in Steve’s hand.

“Your nails,” Eddie says, ignoring all semblance of a greeting. “They’re still painted.”

Steve glances down at his hands, laughs a little quiet and awkward. “Yeah, does it look weird on me?”

“No.” Eddie thought that it would. That Steve, perfectly put together Steve Harrrington, would look tarnished and sullied by Eddie with the black paint. That he would look tainted by all that Eddie is but… “I like it.”

“Oh,” Steve grins, drags Eddie movie choices closer to ring them up. “Me too, it’s kinda like having you around even when you’re not here.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Yeah.”

It’s just a little splash of black paint, but it makes Eddie want impossible things just to see it still there. He wants more of himself on Steve. His clothes, his rings, himself. He wants to cover Steve in the things that he loves, show everyone that this pretty and perfect boy is something that Eddie Munson treasures.

“Will you paint them again?” Steve asks without looking at him.

“I’ll paint them anytime you want,” Eddie says honestly. He hands over a few crumpled bills to pay as he remembers how easy the moment between them had been. How quiet and perfect. He would probably do anything for Steve Harrington and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that.

Steve’s smile is soft.

“Thanks,” he says and then holds the tapes out to Eddie. He glances over his shoulder at Robin who is doing her best to pretend she’s not watching them. Steve huffs and turns back to Eddie, lowers his voice and leans a little across the counter. “How about tonight?”

Eddie glances back down at Steve’s still perfect nails then up to Steve’s face, his dark eyes watching Eddie just as intently as they had two days ago. His nails don’t need to be touched up yet. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Great,” Steve says, hand brushing Eddie’s as he hands over a receipt. “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be there,” Eddie stumbles over the words.

When Eddie leaves his head is a mess of want and confusion and hope. So much hope.

[laswells-ashtray]

Non-sexual things that COD people do to drive their SO feral? Thoughts?

- John with his tippy toe hip thrust thing has Nik in a chokehold, also instead of moving a chair in like a normal person John does this little scooting/hip thrust/legs spread manoeuvre that is too good to ignore.

(Evidence of this is seen during the Cutscene of Kate and John meeting to discuss making Taskforce 141)

-Kate has a way of folding her arms and looking down at her that has Sarah turning to utter jelly. Kate also has restless hands, likes to tap, stroke and squeeze, so a simple repeated gesture such as drumming her fingers on her thigh from Kate has Sarah wondering how else to occupy her lovely wife's hands.

-Faralexgaz I think would love for almost domestic self care, watching Farah brush and braid her hair had her boys fidgeting and wanting to touch, watching Gaz rub in his hydration lotions makes the other two wanna lick it off and Alex doing his facial hair maintenance with the oiling and trimming has Gaz on his knees "Helping" while Farah holds the mirror for them.

- Ghoap where Soap goes feral seeing how Ghost's mask moves, he can SEE when ghost's tongue wets his lips under that thing and he wants that tongue in his mouth immediately. He's a Victorian man seeing a scrap of ankle every smoke break when he sees Ghost lift the balaclava for a ciggie (Never mind the fact he knows exactly what's under the balaclava intimately)

-Alerudy with Alejandro being utterly pavloved when Rudy adjusts his leather belt, the sound of it is like ringing a dinner bell for a starved man. Also if Alejandro takes his gloves off with his teeth, it's not exactly Rudy's fault if he wants them in his mouth afterwards.

-Graves getting a little power trip from all the "Yup Yups" from his people, he's very touchy even during basic pre-check for missions so the shadows are all definitely angling themselves to make sure he touches them as he passes.

This was like a cool glass of lemonade on a warm day. Like waking up only to realise that you have three hours before your alarm goes off and you can go back to sleep. Like when you're six drinks in and vodka is now tasteless.

A blessing.

John Price's little hip thrust move is responsible for several casualties, Nikolai included. Sometimes he doesn't even realise he's doing it but the minute Nikolai spots it, his eyes are on John's crotch. John moves his hips far more than he thinks he does and all Nikolai can think of is the times he's stood behind the Englishman and made him buck up into Nik's hand instead of stroking his cock like John had so nicely asked.

When Kate crosses her arms and looks at you, it feels like she's looking down on you. It isn't intentional, she just has that intimidating feel to her and Sarah eats it up. But when they're at a bar and there's a table of men acting rowdy, Kate is irritated and she has one elbow resting on the bar with her other hand trailing her nails up and down Sarah's thigh? Well, Sarah is glad she wore a skirt because Kate'll be needing easy access when Sarah drags them both home. They don't even make it upstairs into their bedroom, Kate fucks her up against their front door and the next morning she comes downstairs to find her own black lace panties by their welcome mat.

Farah's version of unwinding before bed is sitting down in one of Gaz's t-shirts and a stolen pair of Alex's boxers as she braids her hair. It's habit and she doesn't have to think twice about doing it. Alex and Gaz are amazed by it, how quickly and efficiently her hands move when she doesn't even have to look. It's hypnotic. And it has Gaz crawling on his knees over to the end of the bed where she's sitting to massage her shoulders only his hands slip under the shirt and it devolves from there. Watching Alex trim his moustache always turns into sex to the point that if he doesn't want to get interrupted part way through and have to come back to finish trimming it after they're all thoroughly fucked out then he has to hide from both Farah and Gaz.

God, Ghost lifting the balaclava just enough to smoke. Soap is staring at him with dazed eyes like he just watched Ghost hand place the stars. Something about it feels personal to him, being allowed to see that bit of Ghost when he's in the "uniform" despite the fact that he has not only seen Ghost naked but he's also had the other man's cock in his mouth. But that little flash of skin, that has him damn near panting like a fucking dog.

Alejandro upon seeing Rudy's shiny new leather belt realises two things. One, introducing leather into their sex life might've been a bad idea because now he can't see it on the other man without feeling horny. Two, if Rudy doesn't tie him down, gag him with that belt and ride him until Alejandro's crying and begging him to stop then he might explode. The first time Rudy watches Alejandro pull his gloves off with his teeth, Rudy almost walks directly in the path of a moving vehicle. He blames his concussion, it's only partly to blame. Alejandro eventually notices that the action tends to render his sergeant major stupid and acts accordingly. The next time Rudy wears gloves, Alejandro pulls them off by the fingertips with his teeth and he barely has time to drop them from his mouth before he's yanked forward and mey with Rudy biting his lip while he unzips Ale's pants.

I think Graves is big on putting his hand on the back of someone's neck and squeezing because to him it's a friendly, reassuring touch. To his Shadows it's a memory for the wankbank because his hands are warm and his touch is firm. Graves himself, he knows there are eyes on him. He's their leader, he's God in this crowd of followers. They hang on his every word. Their importance is measured by him. There's little a hookup can do for him in comparison to how his Shadows eyes will follow his every move when he asks their attention.

[ryukatters]

a/n: Inspired by that one scene from the apothecary diaries of jinshi interrogating maomao lamaksomsosk (kaiji tang you will always be famous) but with a diff twist

pairing: satoru gojo x gn! reader

content: jealous! Gojo, Gojo really likes reader but reader is kind of dense, reader is a grade one sorcerer younger than Gojo

You give Yaga a quick yet thorough debrief of your mission. You made Nanami go home, insisting that you’d handle all the technical work, since he went out of his way to save your ass when you called him for backup. Your mission had taken an awry turn from a simple investigation of some odd activity near a detention center to having to fight off not one, but two special grade curses.

Sometimes missions don’t go the way you expect them to. That’s normal. Checking in with Yaga after coming back from said missions is also customary. What isn’t normal though, is the way Satoru Gojo is standing behind you grumbling under his breath with each sentence you speak. You can practically feel the menacing aura emanating from his very being. It seeps into your bones and you have to suppress a shiver.

There’s not much you can do. The Jujutsu world’s strongest sorcerer can do whatever he wants. And if he wants to breathe fire down the neck of his poor junior? Then so be it.

“That’s all for my report, sir.”

You bow to Yaga before turning around to get the hell out of the office, far away from him. You give Gojo a slight nod of acknowledgment with the full intention to skitter out of there, but you’re stopped by a large hand gripping your shoulder firmly.

Satoru leans down to whisper into your ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in my office.”

You can’t suppress the way you shudder at his touch and the low timbres of his voice.

And with that, Satoru whips around with a slight ‘hmph’ before sauntering down the hall.

You hear Yaga sigh behind you as you shut the door. You take your time walking, dragging your feet as the ball of anticipation in the pits of your stomach sinks deeper and deeper. You take a deep breath as you grip the door handle leading to Gojo’s office.

Gojo’s sitting down when you enter. Even with his blindfold on, you can tell that his expression looks miffed. His body language too— impatiently drumming his fingers against his thigh. His uncharacteristic silence seeps into every nook and cranny, filling you with an even deeper sense of dread.

Was he upset with you? You hope you’re overthinking things.

“You asked to see me?” You start.

“So…your mission. Heard you had to fight two special grade curses.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Which gives you the inkling feeling that Gojo isn’t all that interested in actually speaking about your latest assignment.

“I did.”

(You want to remind him that he was in the room when you told Yaga, but you bite your tongue.)

“I see,” he hums noncommittally.

“…And?” You can feel the way his six eyes sear into you even with that stupid blindfold on. You wish he’d just cut to the chase already.

“And when you needed back up, you decided to call Nanami?”

“Yes,” you say with a slight hint of hesitation. You’re not entirely sure what he was trying to get at here. “He was the first sorcerer I saw on my recent calls.”

“Funny how I called you this morning yet you didn’t think about seeking me out for help,” Gojo pouts, idly playing with some empty candy wrappers that were on his coffee table. “Or do you just prefer Nanami over me?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” you respond honestly. Because you don’t. Why is he making such a big deal out of this in the first place?

Gojo looks at you, flabbergasted. He groans in exasperation. Were the random (but constant) phone calls, lunches (and dinners), and just generally wanting to be with you not enough? What more does he have to do to make you realize?

Jealousy is a fickle thing. Satoru hates uncertainty, especially when it concerns him. It makes him feel weak. The good thing about fickle feelings is that they can be replaced by something more consistent, more complete, more gratifying. And he’s pretty fucking sure that he loves you by now, even when you’re too thickskulled to recognize that.

Satoru stands up and makes his way in front of you. He towers over you easily, bringing a hand to cup your chin and look at him.

“The next time you need something, and I mean anything— you tell me,” he says. He lacks his usual air of playfulness, instead replaced by a more stern tone— one that forces you to listen. “I can give you whatever you need.”

It’s your turn to stare now. You can feel your ears run hot at the implications with what your senior just said. “Okay, I will,” you whisper. “Thank you, Gojo.”

“Satoru.” he all but demands.

“Thanks, Satoru.”

*throws this into the tags to distract everyone from the fact I haven’t finished his bday fic*

[brookediamonds]

that's that me espresso | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

based off this request

Summary: It's a night out with your team and your new crush has entered the building. Let's see what brews shall we?

Word Count: 2.97k Warnings: 18+, minors dni, kind of smutty, sm FLUFF, reader & axel are 18

gif is not mine

"Someone dance with me," you beg your friends sitting around a table.

You and your teammates decided on night out to release pent up tension from the Sekai Taikai and found yourselves in a bar down the street from the hotel.

"No, thanks," Demetri confidently rejects your hand. You roll your eyes walking over to Sam and Robby who sat glumly sipping on their sodas.

As you three began talking about today's events, a few people sauntered into the bar, a certain boy catching your eye.

"Sam," you gasp placing your hand on her shoulder making your curly hair friend jump in her seat. "It's him!"

The tall mysterious male captain from The Iron Dragons stood along with a few of his other teammates, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white collard button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that made your heart sing.

"Ahh," Sam recognizes the boy you're making eyes at. "Your future husband."

"Future husband is crazy to say," Robby snorts taking a sip of his watered down drink.

"It's true though," you say dreamily completely mesmerized by the boy.

You fix your already made up hair, tossing a few pieces to the front to frame your face, turning to your friends. "How do I look?"

"Hot!"

"Okay, I guess."

You punch Robby in the shoulder making him laugh and almost spill his drink. He recovers quickly, holding up a hand in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright! You look amazing, okay? Future-husband material, even."

You sighed glancing back over at the guy you so desperately want to meet, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. This guy was a killer on the mat, his confidence in his fighting sent you a wave of admiration and desire that no boy had made you feel before.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself. "I'm going in."

Robby pats you on your back as you turned to face your mission, Sam encouraging you as well by cheering you on. "You got this."

Steadily walking over to the boy with the swept up auburn hair, you feel your adrenaline begin to rise like you were getting ready to enter a fight.

Don't be nervous, this isn't karate.

Swallowing down any shyness, you tap the boy on his shoulder lightly making him look over his left shoulder to gaze down at you. His intimidating eyes softened as they met your own, making you feel just a little more relaxed.

"Hi," your voice is gentle but steady, though inside you can feel your heart pounding like a drum. His lips curl into a small, lopsided smile, and it sends a flutter straight to your stomach.

"Hi," he greets you back, his voice is deep and matching his strong persona.

"I'm (Y/n)," You introduce yourself with a little more confidence this time.

"Axel," he says with a slight nod, his name rolling off his tongue in that same deep, steady voice. 

"Do you wanna dance?" You ask motioning to the dance floor filled with people. He looks behind you seeing everyone move fluidly with each other, a blush rising to his cheeks.

"I- I am not very good dancer," he responds with a sheepish smile which you find endearing.

"Neither am I," you assure him. "Might be fun though."

Axel had seen you a few times through out the competition, and has occasionally passed by you up close. One thing that stood out to him was your perfume.

Every time you had crossed by, a familiar warm scent lingered behind you, taking him back home. He couldn't quite put a finger on what the fragrance was, but now was his chance.

"Okay," he nods standing up from his stool. "But do not say I didn't warn you."

You laughed tossing your head back before holding a hand out for him. When he places his big warm hand in yours, you lead him towards the dance floor.

The music is loud and vibrant, the atmosphere isn't too crazy but just chaotic enough to feel comfortable blending in with the other couples.

As you start to sway to the rhythm of the song, you notice Axel watching you closely, trying to mimic your movements. He’s stiff at first, but with every beat, he loosens up a little more.

"So he can fight and dance," you tease your new friend. He lets out a nervous laugh shaking his head at your comment.

"Not quite," he says, his voice carrying a hint of self-deprecation. "I think I am better at counter striking than following a rhythm."

"I think you underestimate yourself," you respond before he lifts his hand up to twirl you around. When you face him again, he catches you by surprise when he pulls you forward, making you come chest to chest with him.

"Maybe I have good dance partner," he says lowly, your stomach doing a summersault at the raspiness of his voice.

You can't help the heat that rise to your cheeks, his face being so close yours made your heart pound. His hands that were now on your waist, snaked to the small of your back, your hips following along with his now.

You're breathing in each other's air now, the shared space giving you a new sense of connection.

Axel is fully relaxed now being able to breathe in your sweet scent of a soothing mix of soft vanilla, rich coffee, and delicate lavender.

It reminded him of his favorite coffee shop back home that he goes to after practice to drink his favorite latte, enjoy a blueberry muffin, or sometimes just to read to get his mind off of reality.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

He's shook out of his thoughts by your question, but answers rapidly a "yes" because who would dare say no to you? Certainly not him.

"We can go to the beach, it's on the way back to the hotel," you suggest.

"The beach sounds nice," Axel agrees giving you a small grin. Casually, you lace your fingers through his, pulling him through the crowd and out of the noisy bar.

The way you held hands made it feel as if you'd done this a thousand times before, like this was a normal night out for you two. You smiled to yourself when you realize he hadn't let go once you've made it outside.

Together you two strolled down the pavement, following the soft hum of the ocean before you.

"You were somewhere else back at the dance floor," you spoke up. "What were you thinking about?"

Axel chuckles lightly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, the normal shade of pink cascading across his nose.

"Your scent," he admits quietly, making you glance up at him with curious eyes. "It reminds me of a coffee shop I love back home."

Your feet suddenly hit the sand, the ground becoming soft beneath you.

"It's my perfume," you explain the corners of your lips tugging upwards. "It's quite literally called 'Coffee Break.'"

Axel nods in understanding, a small closed mouth smile forming on his lips as he looks ahead, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step.

"It suits you, it is warm and comforting...like you," he says softly. His sweet words sends an eruption of butterflies through your stomach, it almost makes you want giggle like a school girl.

"I don't think my perfume has ever gotten me such a nice compliment before," you chuckle looking down at the grainy surface below you. "Much less a cute boy."

It's Axel's turn to blush and laugh, his cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling he had done tonight with you. He was used to being stone cold all the time, it was nice to understand what it felt like to truly be happy.

You had noticed this too, especially during pictures at the aquarium. You hadn't seen a genuine smile from him the entire tournament but tonight, he was beaming. It made you feel special in a way that this was rare for him.

"Do you miss being away from home?" You ask thoughtfully as you both continued to wonder down the beach.

"Sometimes," he admits hesitantly. "I like getting to travel, but I do miss my bed."

You laugh lightly nodding in agreement.

"Your accent, is it slavic?" You inquire, wanting to get to know everything about him.

"Croatian," he nods. "I am from Western Europe."

"And you live in Hong Kong," you put together.

"For most of my life," he says mattarfactly. "My family moved there when I was a kid."

"That's a big change," you muse. "Must've been a hard adjustment."

"It was at first," he agreed. "But you get used to it.”

The sadness in his tone made you wonder if you had hit a touchy subject, but when he glances over at you and see's the concern in your eyes, he lets out a cough and asks, "What about you? Where is home for you?"

Caught slightly off guard, you blink before smiling at the question.

"Los Angeles, California," you nod. "Born and raised, unfortunately no where like Europe or Hong Kong."

He chuckles at your comment, appreciating your wit to the situation. Axel couldn't help but fall silent and drink in every word you breathed, listening to the way your voice shifted up when you talked about your hometown and how your eyes shined and went wide with expression as you described a park near your house where you loved to journal.

Before you know it, you two had arrived to the hotel and found yourselves in the elevator still chatting about each other's personal lives.

"Can I tell you something?" You say turning to face the blue eyed boy. Axel glances at you, his brow lifting slightly in curiosity.

“Of course,” he responds his hands becoming clammy in anticipation. You hadn't pressed the number for your floor yet, and it made him wonder if maybe he should press his.

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze dropping to your hands before you look back up at him with a certain glint in your (e/c) colored eyes.

"I don't want this night to end," you admit, your words falling low. If Axel didn't know any better, he'd think you were hinting at wanting to extend this night into the morning.

"Me neither," he's fast to respond, his voice firm yet laced with a nervous edge. Axel’s eyes meet yours, searching for something—perhaps reassurance that he’s not misreading the moment.

The elevator remains still, the silence between you filled only by the faint hum of its machinery. His hand twitches at his side, as though debating whether to reach out, to close the space between you.

"Then maybe we don't let it," you say softly, your words deliberate. The air between you feels heavier, charged with a tension neither of you seems eager to break.

Axel swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. "What do you mean?" he asks, though there’s a flicker of understanding in his expression.

You smile, a mix of nervousness and boldness flickering across your face. "I mean... we could keep talking. Or maybe... do something else."

The suggestion lingers in the air, open-ended yet unmistakable. Axel’s lips part slightly as if to respond, but instead, he steps forward just enough to close a fraction of the distance between you.

"Are you rooming with anyone?" You ask closing the gap between you two, eyes trailing up his white button up.

"N-No," he stutters as you reach a hand up to toy with his one of the buttons on his shirt.

"I am, so my room is out," you exhale. Axel is quick to lean over you and press the floor #5 making you laugh.

"Have you done this before?" You ask wanting to get an idea of his experience.

He glances away from you, his adoring blush rising to his face, as he shook his head in a 'no' making your heart melt. You raised your hand, laying it on his cheek affectionately.

"We don't have to, you know?" You reassure him gently. "I just want to spend more time with you."

Axel eyes flicker down to your pink glossy lips, wanting to know what they tasted like.

"I want to," he states, his voice steady despite the flush on his cheeks. "With you."

The elevator doors open, revealing an empty hallway. As he steps out of the doubled doors, he held a hand out for you which you take.

"Lead the way, sir," you tease looking up at him. Axel cracks a smile, squeezing your hand.

"Yes ma'am," he responds leading you into the room that held a night of unspoken promises and firsts. The soft click of the door closing behind you felt like a seal on a moment neither of you would forget.

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

You stir first, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you. As you blink awake, the sound of steady breathing draws your attention, and you turn your head to find Axel beside you, his light brown hair tousled and his features softened in sleep.

His arm is draped across your waist, holding you close, as though even in his dreams, he didn’t want to let you go. The sight makes your heart swell, a quiet smile spreading across your lips.

You take a moment to drink in the peaceful expression on his face, so different from the stoic mask he often wore on the mat. His lips are slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. The vulnerability in this quiet moment makes you feel closer to him.

As if sensing your gaze, Axel begins to stir. His eyelashes flutter before his blue eyes open, bleary at first but quickly sharpening as he looks at you. A blush spreads across his cheeks as he realizes where he is, but his arm stays where it is, and his lips tug into a small, shy smile.

"Good morning," you whisper, your voice soft in the stillness.

"Morning," he replies, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it’s as though the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of you.

"How’d you sleep?" you ask, your hand lightly brushing against his where it rests on your waist.

Axel chuckles softly, his blush deepening. "Better than I thought I would," he admits. "You?"

You grin, leaning in slightly. "Best sleep I’ve had all week."

His smile widens at your words, and he nods, his hand giving your waist a gentle squeeze. "Me as well."

Neither of you moves to get up, content to savor the quiet intimacy of the morning, relishing in the connection you two have created.

"Last night was the best night of my existence," he spoke proudly.

"It was good, then?" You ask biting your bottom lip, hoping his first time was what he imagined.

"Better than good," he praises making you turn red. "It was amazing."

Axel can't help but think back to the way you took your time with him, letting him feel all of you from your lips, to your breasts, to your core.

He adored the way you talked him through it as you rode him, guiding his hands all over your body to where he would feel comfortable.

And you appreciated the reciprocation of him wanting to please you so damn bad with his head between your legs all morning. He didn't thank you once, no, he thanked you twice.

When it's time for you to go after receiving a call from Sam that Miguel and Sensei Lawerence came back, you're both drunk off each other's affection, unable to leave one another.

"I'll see you later," you promise standing up on your tippy toes to press a gentle kiss to Axel's downturned lips.

"I look forward to it," he says with a slight grin after you give him that peck. You pull away from his embrace, walking towards the elevator, pressing the up button.

When you step inside, Axel watches you blow a kiss to him, just before the doors close.

Already missing your presence, Axel saunters back into his now empty room, plopping face down into the mattress. When he adjusts his body, he realizes there's something lingering in the air, something warm and familiar.

It’s your scent. That 'Replica' perfume.

Axel freezes for a moment, his face buried in the pillow where you had been lying just moments ago.

The realization makes his heart ache and flutter all at once. He inhales deeply, the comforting fragrance wrapping around him like a gentle hug. It’s almost as if a part of you stayed behind, refusing to let the room feel completely empty.

Axel closes his eyes, letting the scent pull him into memories of the night before—your laughter, your smile, the way your hand felt in his.

The quiet intimacy you shared was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and now, even in your absence, you were still with him in a way that made the loneliness less sharp.

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

a/n: I really tried to incorporate as much as I could from the request without trying to sound repetitive from my other one-shots, and them being tipsy wasn't something I felt right about, so instead they're drunk on one another lol. Hope this was okay!!

[ankababy]

A Home (part 15)

Part 1 Part 14 Part 16

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Can someone take that fucking gun from Niragi already?

A few days had passed.

A few days since you had looked Chishiya in the eyes and told him the truth. Since you had asked all the right questions, since you had seen through him with that frustrating, impossible clarity. A few days since you had sat close to him, warm and kind, your voice steady and soft, telling him things he had never let himself believe before. A few days since you had held his hand, kissed the side of his head, and made him feel like a person instead of an observer.

And now, he stood in the entrance of the hallway, watching.

The kitchen was across the living room, and he could see you perfectly from where he stood. You were talking to Niragi, that absolute monster, fussing over him, laughing at something he said, all care and warmth despite everything.

Niragi was better now. The fever had passed, the wound had closed, and he was his usual unbearable self again—arrogant, loud, biting. But Chishiya could still see it—the way Niragi leaned in, just slightly, when you touched him. The way his sharp words softened around the edges when they were directed at you. The way he let you get away with things nobody else could.

You had that effect on people.

“Really, you need to be more careful.” you were saying, your voice teasing but sincere as your hands brushed against Niragi’s shoulder. “It would be a shame if you died, you know. Those great collarbones of yours would go to waste.”

Niragi pulled his mouth, tilting his head back. “Oh? You like them that much?”

“I like you alive that much.” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “But yes, they’re nice. It’s all very aesthetically pleasing. So try not to get yourself shot again, alright?”

Niragi scoffed, but there was something almost pleased in his expression. “No promises.”

You huffed. “You’re impossible.”

And Chishiya? Chishiya just stood there, watching.

Thinking.

You had a way of making people feel like the best versions of themselves, even when they were at their worst. You had done it to him that night—shown him something he didn’t even know he had been waiting to hear. And now here you were, doing the same thing to Niragi, effortlessly drawing something human out of someone who had spent his entire life trying to prove he wasn’t.

Chishiya didn’t know how to process big feelings.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he studied the situation like he always did. Detached. Observant. Cold.

But the conclusion was the same.

You were perfect.

Not in the way that meant you were flawless. No, you were messy, complicated, frustratingly real. You got overwhelmed. You panicked. You carried the weight of things that nobody else would carry.

And yet, you chose to be this way.

You chose to care.

And Chishiya didn’t know what to do with that.

Because he had never met someone who could look at people like Niragi—people like him—and still find something worth holding onto.

And worse, he had never met someone who made him want to be worth holding onto.

Niragi had been more distant lately.

Not physically—no, he was still around, still in the same spaces as you, still close enough to reach. But his words had sharpened, his temper shorter, his moods unpredictable. He wanted to push you away, but at the same time, he wanted you more than anything. You were the only warmth he had ever known, and yet, he was convinced he shouldn’t have it.

You had noticed, of course. You noticed everything.

And you never let it stop you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, slicing something for breakfast, while Niragi sat at the table, lazily drumming his fingers against the wood.

“You should eat something.” you said, your voice gentle as you glanced back at Niragi. “You barely touched your food yesterday.”

Niragi scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “What, are you my mother now?”

You let out a breath, setting the knife down. “That’s not what I—”

“You gonna start spoon-feeding me next?” Niragi interrupted, voice full of mockery. “Tuck me in? Read me a bedtime story? Jesus, you’re so fucking clingy.”

You didn’t even flinch. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.” you said, the same patience in your voice as always. “But I’m making something anyway, so if you change your mind, just let me know.”

Niragi’s jaw tightened. He hated that. Hated that you never snapped back at him, never gave him an excuse to fight. Hated that you stayed, no matter how cruel he was.

“Why the fuck do you do that?” he muttered.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestured at you. “Act like—like none of this bothers you. Like I don’t bother you.” Because he bothered everyone, didn’t he?

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Because you don’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.” you said simply. “I care about you. That’s not going to change just because you’re trying to piss me off.”

Something flickered across his face, something almost pained, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah?” he said, voice mocking. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Chishiya exhaled slowly through his nose, tapping his fingers against the wall.

He had been watching this play out for days now. Watching Niragi push, waiting for you to push back—but you never did. And that was what unsettled Niragi the most, wasn’t it? That no matter how much venom he spit, you never gave him the reaction he was looking for.

You never gave up on him.

Chishiya could see it all. The way Niragi was unraveling, the way he was testing you, waiting for you to leave—because that’s what people did, wasn’t it? People didn’t stay. People didn’t care, not really.

And yet, you were still here.

Chishiya knew what Niragi was doing because he had done it himself, in his own way. There was nothing more terrifying than being loved when you didn’t think you deserved it. When you had spent your whole life assuming you couldn’t be loved.

Niragi was waiting for you to prove him right.

Chishiya had been waiting for you to prove him right, too.

And neither of them had been able to break you.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Because you didn’t love them because they had done something to deserve it. You didn’t love them because they had changed, or because they had earned it. You just did.

And that was worse than any cruelty they had ever known.

Because it meant they could lose it.

And neither of them knew how to handle that.

~

Niragi was stretched out on the couch, looking far too comfortable. His arm was lazily draped over the back of the couch, his other hand resting against his stomach, fingers tapping idly. You were right next to him, legs tucked up beneath you, practically pressed into his side.

Your hands were on his face, gently cradling his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. You were talking—just rambling, really—about something you had seen earlier. A cat, small and scrappy, lurking near the alleyway when you had gone out for a walk.

“It had the biggest eyes.” you said, smiling as you tilted Niragi’s face slightly, inspecting a small scratch near his jawline. “And the fluffiest little tail. It was so cute, but it wouldn’t let me get close. Just ran off the second I tried.”

“Smart cat.” Niragi muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

You hummed. “I wanted to bring it food. Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow and try again.”

Niragi huffed out a breath. “Dumb. Stray cats don’t trust people. They know better.”

You just smiled, tilting your head. “Yeah? So what does that make you, then?”

Niragi blinked, his lips parting slightly before he scoffed, turning his head away from you. But he didn’t pull from your grasp. He let you hold him, let you touch him, let your fingers run along the angles of his face.

His moods were unpredictable—whiplash inducing, really. He could go from pushing you away, all teeth and venom, to melting under your hands in the blink of an eye. And right now, he was leaning into it.

“Maybe the cat just thought you were annoying.” he muttered, tilting his head further into your touch even as he insulted you. “Maybe it ran off because it didn’t want to hear you talk its fucking ear off.”

You just laughed, unfazed as always. “Maybe. But I’ll try again anyway.”

“Yeah?” Niragi smirked, something playful in his gaze. “You really think you can win over some half-dead street rat just by being nice?”

You smiled at him, all warmth and patience.

“Hasn’t failed me yet.” you said softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

He let out a breath, leaning further into your hands, letting himself enjoy it. Letting himself be touched—not out of violence, not out of necessity, but simply because you wanted to.

And fuck, he wanted it, too.

But he wouldn’t say that.

Wouldn’t admit to the way he felt lighter when you touched him, when you talked to him like he wasn’t just some monster, when you looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re such a dumbass.” he muttered, voice low, but he let you hold him. He let you stay.

Niragi knew exactly what he was doing.

He had always known.

He wasn’t stupid—no, he never had been. He knew how people worked, knew how they looked at him, knew how they judged him before he even opened his mouth. Back then, when he was nothing but a nerdy fuck, a punching bag, an easy target, he learned fast. People were cruel. People took what they wanted and left nothing behind. People used others, squeezed them dry, then tossed them aside.

Now he was the one in control.

He was hot, and he knew it.

And you—fuck, you loved him.

You were all over him, touching him without hesitation, holding his face in your soft little hands like he wasn’t some bloodstained mess of a person. You looked at him with so much warmth, so much adoration.

It was almost funny.

Because if you had met him before, before all this—before he had carved himself into something unrecognizable—you wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

Back then, he was nothing.

But now, he could have anything he wanted.

Including you.

And oh, he knew he could use this. Could use you.

You were soft. You were kind. You cared about him like no one else ever had.

And Niragi knew exactly how to take advantage of that.

He let you hold him, let you cradle his jaw, let your fingers skim along his face with so much tenderness it almost made him sick. But he didn’t pull away. No, he leaned into it. He smirked at you, eyelids low, voice smooth as he let himself sink into your touch.

Because he knew he had you wrapped around his fucking finger.

“You should be careful, Y/N.” he murmured, voice dripping with something slow and honeyed. “You’re getting a little obsessed with me.”

You just laughed, still so fucking sweet. “I just like taking care of you, Niragi.”

He wondered—just how far could he push this? How much could he take from you before you realized he was only holding onto you because you were something warm in his cold, dead hands?

How much could he make you love him before you saw him for what he really was?

And when that happened…

Would you still stay?

But there was something, though.

Something small, something he didn’t want to name. Something that curled up in the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest and whispered to him in the quiet moments, when you weren’t talking, when you weren’t touching him, when you weren’t right there.

He ignored it. He always ignored it.

Because Niragi knew what he was doing.

He let you touch him, let you baby him, let you love him, because why wouldn’t he? He deserved this. After everything—after years of getting spat on, after years of taking punch after punch, after years of being no one, nothing—he deserved to take whatever the hell he wanted.

You gave so freely. You never asked for anything in return. You just gave.

So why shouldn’t he take?

Why shouldn’t he sink into your touch, let himself melt under your hands, let himself need your attention?

Need?

Niragi’s jaw tensed. His fingers twitched against his knee. Something in his chest felt wrong.

He didn’t need shit.

He didn’t need anyone.

And yet, when you pulled your hands away, when you shifted slightly on the couch, when you turned your head for even a second—his muscles tensed.

He almost grabbed your wrist.

Almost.

Instead, he tilted his head. “What, getting bored already?”

You blinked at him, all soft eyes and warmth, as if you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him. “Of course not.”

Then why did he feel like something was missing the second you weren’t touching him?

Niragi pushed the thought away, leaned back on the couch, let his body go loose and lazy. “Good.” he muttered. “You’re the one who won’t leave me alone, after all.”

He expected you to scold him, to sigh at him, to roll your eyes and call him a brat. Instead, you just smiled. Like you saw through him. Like you knew.

His throat went dry.

No.

You didn’t know shit.

You were just some stupid, soft-hearted idiot who didn’t realize that one day, he was going to take too much from you. And if you ever did realize—if you ever really saw him—he already knew what you would do.

You’d leave.

Just like everyone else.

So Niragi did what he always did.

He got meaner.

“You should really get a hobby, Y/N.” he sneered. “I know I’m hot, but you’re starting to look desperate.”

And still, still, still—you didn’t pull away. You just laughed. And Niragi hated it. Hated that laugh, hated that look, hated the way his fingers twitched again with the urge to grab you.

Because maybe, just maybe—there was something there.

Chishiya had no interest in getting involved, but watching you two was becoming a reliable source of entertainment.

So, when he walked into the massive living room—hands in his pockets, posture loose, looking like he had nowhere better to be—he only raised a brow at the scene in front of him.

You, perched right next to Niragi, looking at him like he was the only person in the world. And Niragi, sprawled out like a king on his throne.

Pathetic.

Not you—him.

Chishiya could see it. Niragi was obvious as hell. He was drinking it in, every drop of attention you gave him, even as he insulted you, even as he pushed at your warmth with mean words.

Typical.

But you—you were something else.

“Chishiya.” you said, eyes lighting up the second you saw him. You were beaming at him before he even said a word. “Hi.”

He didn’t react, but something in his chest did. The way you said his name—so full of warmth, so genuine—it was still something he hadn’t quite figured out how to process.

“You two are getting along well.” he remarked, gaze flicking toward Niragi. “Almost heartwarming.”

“Fuck off.” Niragi sneered immediately. “What the fuck do you want?”

Chishiya smirked. “Just seeing what all the noise was about.”

“And getting entertainment from us?” you added knowingly, teasing.

“Maybe.”

You laughed softly—but you didn’t stop looking at him. And it was the way you looked at him that got to him. Like you wanted him there. Like his presence was something good.

Chishiya wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to being wanted without some kind of motive behind it. But with you, he could never quite figure out the angle.

Because you—god, you were so fucking sweet.

“You should sit with us.” you said, scooting just slightly, patting the empty space next to you.

Chishiya glanced at Niragi, waiting for him to snap, but Niragi only scoffed and muttered, “Fuckin’ great.”

For once, he didn’t argue.

Chishiya tilted his head, considering.

Interesting.

Without another word, he moved toward the couch, lowering himself into the spot next to you. You barely even let him get comfortable before you turned fully toward him, all soft-eyed and full of warmth, just like you always were.

And Niragi hated it.

“Jesus Christ.” Niragi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “If you keep looking at him like that, I might actually throw up.”

Chishiya smirked. “Jealous?”

“Jealous of what?” Niragi snapped, but there was something tight in his voice, something just under the surface.

You, of course, didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t react to it.

“Be nice.” you scolded, voice soft.

“Yeah, Niragi.” Chishiya echoed, still smirking. “Be nice.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

But you were already moving, your attention shifting back to Niragi without hesitation. You were ridiculous. Impossible. Every time Niragi was just about to push too far, you pulled him back in with your warmth, your patience, your fucking kindness.

Chishiya didn’t understand it.

You should’ve hated Niragi. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t.

And that—that was fascinating.

“What were you two talking about before I got here?” Chishiya asked casually, already knowing Niragi would snap again, already knowing it would be funny.

“Nothing you need to know about.” Niragi muttered.

“Just something I saw outside.” you answered at the same time.

Niragi glared.

“Something you saw outside?” Chishiya prompted.

“Yeah.” you said, your voice full of that softness again, that ever-present warmth. “I saw this little orange cat in the street yesterday. It was so cute, Chishiya, I swear, I wanted to bring it home.”

Niragi let out an exaggerated groan. “For fuck’s sake, here we go again.”

You huffed, giving him a playful shove. “Like you weren’t just letting me talk about it.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“You listened to me.” you pointed out with a teasing smile.

“You had your hands all over me. It was a distraction.”

Chishiya watched. It was like watching a cat toy with a mouse—except neither of you seemed to know who was the cat and who was the mouse.

Chishiya liked to watch you.

Not just because you were beautiful—though you were. Not just because you were fascinating—though you were that too.

It was because there was something about you that he couldn’t figure out. And Chishiya prided himself on always figuring people out. You, though? You had a way of slipping through his careful observations, of twisting logic into something lost, of making him feel something in his chest he couldn’t quite name.

You were perfect. And you looked perfect, sitting there between him and Niragi, smiling like the angel you were.

But the way you looked at them—god—it was unbearable.

You looked at them like they mattered. Like they weren’t just violent, selfish, cruel things forged in blood and destruction. Like they weren’t built from bitterness and loneliness and pain.

“You know,” you started, voice soft but clear. “you two are my favorite people.”

Chishiya didn’t react. Niragi scoffed, moving his head, poking his tongue around in his mouth, rolling his eyes—but he was listening. He was always listening to you, even when he pretended not to.

“You say that like you know anyone else.” Niragi muttered.

You just smiled. “I’d still say it even if I did.”

Neither of them spoke.

You looked between them, your expression so open, so genuine. “It’s not just because we’re stuck together. It’s not just because we’re surviving together. If I had known a hundred other people before this, I still would’ve liked you both the most.”

Chishiya watched you carefully. He had spent his whole life understanding actions, not hearts. But your actions never made sense to him, because your heart was different from anyone else he had ever met.

“And it’s not because I think you’re better than you are.” you continued, gaze flicking between the two of them. “I know who you are. I don’t look at you and pretend you’re not violent, or dangerous, or capable of horrible things.”

Niragi didn’t say anything. He was watching you too, quiet.

“I just don’t think that’s all you are.” you added, voice softer now, but firm. “And even if that’s all you think you are, I don’t have to agree with you.”

It was infuriating. Not because you were wrong—god, Chishiya wished you were wrong—but because you were saying things that neither of them knew how to process.

Because no one had ever looked at them like this before.

No one had ever wanted them like this before.

You sighed, tilting your head, giving them a look like you knew they weren’t believing you, and that frustrated you just a little.

“I like you.” you said simply, as if that was the easiest thing in the world. “Not because I think you’re secretly good or because I have some delusional hope that you’ll change. I like you because you’re you.”

It was too much.

Niragi ran a tongue over his teeth, looking away, shifting like he was uncomfortable.

Chishiya didn’t move.

It would’ve been easier if you were stupid.

If you had underestimated them. If you had ignored all the blood on their hands and convinced yourself they were something else.

But no.

You knew. And you chose them anyway.

And Chishiya—he had spent his whole life knowing what people wanted. Money, status, power. Control. Safety.

But you—what the fuck did you want?

What did you see when you looked at them?

“You’re ridiculous.” Niragi muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

“You both are.” you teased, giving them that look again. The one that made them feel like they were the crazy ones, not you.

Maybe they were.

Maybe you had made them crazy.

But Chishiya didn’t mind watching you. He didn’t mind feeling this—whatever this was. Because the way you smiled at them—like they mattered—was something he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let go of.

“Anyways, I swear, I see the same little orange cat every time I go out.” you said, your voice light and thoughtful. “Or maybe there’s just a lot of orange cats around. I don’t know. But this one had little white paws, and it was so cute. It was sitting on top of some car.”

Chishiya gave a slow blink, unimpressed. Niragi scoffed. The speed you changed the topics was impressive, to be honest.

“You should’ve caught it.” Niragi muttered. “Could’ve eaten it.”

You gasped, shoving at his arm without thinking. “Niragi!”

Your leg brushed against Chishiya’s, shifting absentmindedly as you kept talking, your energy restless, your presence so immediate it was impossible to ignore. You couldn’t stay still. Even as you talked, you moved, shifting your legs, fidgeting, your knee knocking against Niragi’s before leaning into Chishiya’s.

And neither of them moved away.

Niragi, as much as he liked to act like a heartless bastard, let your fingers graze over his wrist as you gestured. Let your leg stay against his like it was nothing.

And Chishiya—who usually didn’t like being touched at all—let you do the same to him.

He didn’t know why.

But it was just you.

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess, didn’t seem to care that they weren’t nice, weren’t safe, weren’t the kind of men that were used to this kind of thing.

Maybe that was why you did it.

Maybe you knew.

Maybe you knew that no one had ever touched Niragi just to touch him.

That no one had ever leaned against Chishiya like they belonged there.

That neither of them had ever been given anything without some kind of expectation in return.

Maybe you knew that, and maybe you didn’t.

But either way, you kept touching them.

And they liked it.

Fuck.

“That damn place is probably on fire without us.” Niragi muttered. His arm stretched over the couch, loose and relaxed, and it just happened to rest behind you. “They probably lost their fucking minds when we disappeared.”

Uhuh, yeah, they did not give a fuck about your little cat.

Chishiya gave him a glance, unimpressed. “You think they care that much?”

Niragi grinned.

You glanced between them, your expression curious. “The beach?”

Niragi’s hand slipped onto your thigh.

It wasn’t sleazy.

It was sweet.

A slow drag of his fingers, the weight of his palm resting warm and solid against you, the casualness of it making it feel natural.

You didn’t even react. That was the thing about you. You never reacted to him in a way that made him think you didn’t want it.

And you liked to be touched.

So he did it.

He knew what he was doing. Chishiya knew it, too. And he was letting him do it.

“Well, it’s a kingdom, isn’t it?” Niragi continued, his voice smooth, his fingers tracing patterns into your skin. “And we were the top dogs. If we’re not there, it’s bound to fall apart eventually.”

You were curious. That much was obvious. “The top?” you repeated, glancing at him. “You were at the top?”

Niragi poked at his cheek with his tongue. “Course we were.”

“More like the dogs guarding the throne.” Chishiya said.

Niragi shot him a sharp look, but you laughed, the sound light and full of warmth, and that was enough to make Niragi let it go.

His fingers squeezed your thigh slightly.

“What’s it really like?” you murmured.

Chishiya watched as Niragi gave you a look. It was the kind of look Niragi always had when he was enjoying something. When he was toying with something.

But this time, it wasn’t cruelty.

It was you.

“I think you’d like it.” Niragi murmured, his voice taking on something sweeter.

You blinked at him, and he only smiled.

“People do what they want there.” Chishiya took over. “It’s easy to get by. There’s food, shelter. No real responsibilities. As long as you follow the rules, there’s no reason to worry.”

You were listening.

Niragi’s fingers slid up your thigh just slightly.

It was gentle.

Not pushing.

Not forcing.

Just reminding.

“You should come with us.” he murmured.

You exhaled a small laugh. “Why?”

“You wouldn’t have to keep running around out here like a little rat.” Niragi said, and though his words were harsh, his tone was soft. “You’d be with us.”

That part was important.

With them.

Chishiya watched as you considered it.

You still thought it was a joke. That’s why they had to be careful. If you realized it was happening, you’d resist. But if they kept nudging—kept pressing, kept pulling—then eventually, you’d come to the conclusion yourself. And that was how you won someone over completely.

Chishiya should know.

That was how they had gotten through you.

Niragi could feel the hesitation the moment it settled in you. It was the way your fingers lightly traced the hem of your sleeve, the way your eyes darted toward the fairy lights you’d so carefully placed around the room. The way your brows knit together, just slightly, before you even realized what you were doing.

Doubt.

Niragi had been called a lot of things in his life. Ruthless, sadistic, cruel. All of it was true.

But he was not stupid.

And he knew people.

He knew you.

So he softened. Leaning in just slightly, his fingers traced light, lazy shapes over your thigh, and his voice dropped into something low and coaxing.

“Oh, come on.” he murmured, and there was something softer in his tone now. Something fond. “I know you’re not actually considering staying here.”

Your lips pressed together, your eyes flicking over the dim, warm glow of the living room.

“I just…” You exhaled, fingers tapping against your leg as you thought. “I like it here.”

He had expected that. Niragi let out a small hum, his fingers pressing slightly against you before rubbing slow, soothing circles against the fabric of your pants.

He smiled.

“Yeah, yeah.” he murmured. “The lights, the couch, the little homey feel.”

You gave him a look.

“You’re not really attached to this place, though.” Chishiya said, his tone even. “You’re attached to the idea of it.”

Your lips parted slightly, brow furrowing.

“You like making things safe.” he said simply, watching you closely. “You like making things yours. But that doesn’t mean this is where you should stay.”

Niragi could see it. The way the words landed.

You were listening. Thinking.

“Baby.” Niragi murmured, and his voice was so sweet it could rot your teeth. “You don’t actually think this place is gonna last forever, do you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” you muttered.

But Niragi knew. He knew exactly what that meant. So he just smiled, letting his fingers trail slightly higher, dragging along the side of your hip before resting his palm there instead.

“It’s cute.” he murmured, his tone lilting, teasing, warm. “The way you try to hold onto shit.”

You frowned, eyes flicking toward Chishiya. “Is he part of the argument, or is this just him being an asshole?”

Chishiya shrugged. “Both.”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, but Niragi laughed. And then he leaned in.

“Hey.” he said, his voice low, sweet. “Come with us.”

Your breath hitched slightly. And Niragi saw it. So he pressed further.

“I like having you around.” he admitted, his tone softer than usual. More genuine. “And he likes having you around.” His hand on your hip squeezed slightly. “You’re fun.”

You blinked. “That’s your argument? I’m fun?”

“Fun.” Niragi repeated, dragging the word out. “Hot. And cute.”

Your cheeks warmed.

And Niragi knew it.

Chishiya let out a soft sigh. “The point is,” he said, speaking more plainly. “you don’t actually belong here.”

Your eyes snapped toward him. “And I belong at the Beach?”

Chishiya blinked slowly. “Yes.”

Your frown deepened, and he continued.

“You don’t belong alone.” he clarified. “And if you go with us, you won’t be.”

Niragi could see it.

That last part had done it.

It wasn’t a reaction, wasn’t a visible thing.

But Niragi knew.

Your fingers tapped lightly against the fabric of your pants. Your weight shifted just slightly toward him. Your teeth caught your lip, just barely. A small, barely-there pause.

“…Fuck.” you muttered.

Chishiya sat back, watching you carefully. The way your brows furrowed, your fingers tapped lightly against your knee, your lips parted just slightly before pressing together again. You were thinking.

That night in your room, when you’d spoken to him—really spoken to him—it had been the first time in a long, long time that someone had made him stop.

Had made him listen.

You had asked him the right questions, and he hated that. Hated how right you had been. Because you were right. About everything. And he knew it.

That night had stayed with him.

He had replayed the words over in his mind, over and over, that annoying, perfect voice of yours sticking to the insides of his skull.

It wasn’t just that you understood him.

It was that you hadn’t judged him for it.

And now, sitting here, watching you carefully as you hesitated, as you chewed your lip in thought, as you felt more deeply than he ever could, he felt that same strange feeling settle into his bones.

You were soft words and warm hands, caring too much for people who didn’t deserve it.

Who would never deserve it.

He exhaled slowly, shifting just slightly. He had been watching you so closely that he hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring.

At your face, at the curve of your lips as you chewed the inside of your cheek, at the slope of your nose, the soft tilt of your head.

You were pretty.

He glanced away, exhaling slowly, before looking back up.

You were still chewing your lip.

Still thinking.

Still perfect.

But anyway, that’s how you manipulate someone.

Because they had just gotten you to go back with them.

And you hadn’t even realized it. Not really.

“Think about it.” Niragi murmured, tilting his head, eyes soft, voice coaxing. “Us. Back at the Beach. You’d have fun, baby, I promise.”

He never fucking promised things.

His fingers slid further up your thigh, just a little, just enough to suggest—but not enough to push. Not enough to make you pull away.

Because he knew you wouldn’t.

Because you never did.

And Niragi knew how to play a game when he saw one.

“You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.” he continued, leaning in just slightly, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “I’d take care of you, y’know? Carry your bags, make sure you’re comfortable, maybe even keep you warm at night.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move. Didn’t push him away. Didn’t shut him down completely.

And that was a fucking win.

“You’re so annoying.” you muttered, but it lacked any real bite, and Niragi just grinned. Because he had you thinking. Had you considering.

“You’ve never seen the Beach.” he continued smoothly, fingers still lazily tracing against your thigh. “Never really seen what it’s like. It’s fun, baby, I swear. You’d love it there.”

It wasn’t a lie, not exactly.

But he didn’t need to lie.

He just needed to frame it the right way.

Because Niragi knew how to make people want things. And right now, he was making you want this.

“You said yourself.” he added, voice dropping just slightly, gaze locking onto yours. “We’re your favorite people, yeah?” His thumb brushed against your leg, barely there. “So why not stay with us?”

You exhaled slowly.

Chishiya had been quiet this whole time, watching, analyzing. He watched. But this time, it wasn’t to pick apart someone’s weaknesses. This time, it was to see you. To see what you would do. What you would choose.

He had already known what Niragi was doing. Had seen the moment Niragi made the decision to change tactics.

To be sweet instead of brutal.

To coax instead of taunt.

Because that was how you got people.

You didn’t force them.

You made them want it.

And Chishiya had to admit, Niragi was good.

Because now? Now, you were nodding slowly. Now, you were considering.

Niragi was satisfied. Partly with himself, partly with you.

Because fuck, that was almost too easy.

He had you.

Had you.

And he could see it. Could feel it in the way you weren’t resisting anymore, in the way your hesitation had all but melted away under the heat of his words, under the weight of his touch.

It was like watching prey walk willingly into the jaws of a beast.

And fuck, it was delicious.

So he grinned, sharp and feral, his teeth flashing as he leaned in close, too close, and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Fast. Rough. Possessive.

His lips lingered just for a second—just long enough to prove his point—before he pulled away and let his hand slap against your cheek in that careless, almost playful way.

That pat.

The one that wasn’t really a pat.

The one that was more territorial than anything else.

And then he laughed. A low, wild, pleased sound as he flopped back against the couch, stretching his arms over the back of it, looking like a fucking animal who had just devoured his meal and was now basking in the afterglow of the kill.

“Fuck, I love you.” he said, still laughing, like he thrived off this shit.

You gave him a look, unimpressed, but he could see the way you fought a smile.

And that just made him laugh harder.

Because you could pretend all you wanted.

But he knew.

He fucking knew.

“You’re insane.” you muttered, shaking your head, but there was no real heat behind it. You were smiling. You were nice.

He flicked your forehead.

You swatted at him.

He laughed.

Because he won. Because you were his, whether you realized it or not.

And fuck, that was all he needed.

~

It was late.

You were in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, bare feet swinging just above the floor, fingers loosely curled around a glass of water. The only light came from the dim glow under the cabinets, casting long shadows across the room.

It was quiet. Almost too quiet.

Until the soft sound of footsteps.

And then—Chishiya.

You saw him before he spoke, before he even fully stepped into the kitchen. The way his pale hair caught the light, the way he always moved, like he was completely aware of his presence in a space. He was watching you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Came to check on you.”

Check on you?

You blinked at him, the words sitting strangely in your chest.

Chishiya didn’t do things without reason. Didn’t waste his energy unless there was something to be gained.

But he had nothing to gain from checking on you.

And yet, here he was.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because I knew you’d still be awake.” It was such a simple statement. But something about it felt heavier than it should have.

You looked down at your glass, running your thumb along the rim. “Yeah, well. Just thinking.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything. Just watched you.

You sighed, lifting the glass to your lips, the cool water grounding you for a second. “You know… sometimes I think I like the quiet. But then I get too much of it, and it makes me feel like I’m being left alone with my own thoughts.”

A beat of silence.

“I get that.” Chishiya said.

You looked at him. And for once, he wasn’t wearing that detached asshole expression. No, there was something there. Something you couldn’t quite place.

He understood.

And that alone made you exhale softly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

“Guess that’s why I like having people around.” you admitted, rolling the glass between your palms. “Even if they’re assholes.”

Chishiya let out a quiet hum. “You attract them like a magnet.”

That made you laugh, just a little. “Yeah, yeah. And you’re included in that, by the way.”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of denying it.”

You shook your head, but your voice was softer when you spoke again.

“…But thanks. For checking on me.”

Chishiya didn’t respond right away. Just watched you again, gaze steady, before he finally walked over, stopping a few steps away.

“You’re always taking care of everyone else.” he said, almost idly. “Figured someone should return the favor.”

That made your breath catch, just for a second.

Because it was such a small thing to say. But from him, it felt—

You swallowed, looking down again.

“…That’s sweet.” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled. Because you didn’t believe that for a second.

Chishiya leaned against the counter beside you, his side facing you, close enough that you could feel the shift of the air when he moved. His hands slid into the pockets of his hoodie, posture relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t standing in the dimly lit kitchen with you in the dead of night, checking in on you for reasons he probably wasn’t ready to admit to himself.

You were swinging your feet a little, glass of water still in your hands, eyes soft but thoughtful.

“Still thinking about leaving with us?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

You exhaled, tipping your head back slightly. “Yeah.”

There was something honest about the way you said it. No hesitation, no sugarcoating—just real. And that was what made you so different from everyone else he’d known. There was no calculation to the way you spoke, no agenda behind your words. You weren’t trying to convince him of anything, weren’t trying to manipulate or deceive. You were just you.

That made him want to listen.

Made him want to understand.

“I guess I just—” You sighed, lifting a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. “I made this place my home, y’know? I decorated it, made it feel warm. I thought I’d be happy here.”

“And you’re not?”

You hesitated.

He watched you closely.

“…I think I just liked trying to be happy.” you admitted. “Liked pretending I had something stable. That I wasn’t just surviving.”

That struck something in him.

Because he knew that feeling. That need for control. For some kind of certainty in a world where certainty didn’t exist.

It wasn’t about the place.

It was about what the place represented.

And now, you were being asked to leave it.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “That’s a nice thought. But you know stability doesn’t last.”

You glanced at him, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips. “You think I don’t know that?”

He didn’t answer. Because of course you knew. Of course you did. You survived this world. You weren’t naive. And yet, you still carried so much warmth, so much hope, like you chose to believe in something better.

It was infuriating.

And he hated that it made him like you more.

“…Niragi wants you to go.” he said instead, watching for your reaction.

You snorted. “Yeah, I got that.”

“And you’ll say yes.” he said, almost like a statement.

You bit your lip, tapping your nails lightly against your glass. “Maybe.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Because you want to? Or because he wants you to?”

You paused.

That was a good question.

And you weren’t sure of the answer.

“…Both.” you admitted eventually. “I want to go. I do. But I also think I’m just bad at saying no to people I care about.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to watch you, his expression the usual. You sighed, tilting your head slightly toward him, voice softer now.

“You want me to go?”

Chishiya blinked.

And for a moment, he didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t know.

But because he did.

“…I don’t care.” he said smoothly. “Do what you want.”

You huffed a small breath. “Right. Sure.”

You didn’t believe him.

You shifted, drawing your legs up onto the counter, crossing them under you as you got comfortable. Then, without much thought, you leaned in, resting your cheek on Chishiya’s shoulder.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t stiffen, didn’t pull away.

He just let you.

It was such a simple action, something so small, but it felt big in a way neither of you acknowledged. Because Chishiya wasn’t used to being touched like this—so casually, so gently. No ulterior motives, no expectation behind it. Just you, finding comfort in him, like it was normal.

Like he was safe.

“You’re not stopping me.” you pointed out, your voice soft, teasing.

“I don’t care enough to stop you.”

You huffed a quiet breath. “You say that about a lot of things.”

“Because it’s true.”

“…Is it?”

Chishiya didn’t answer.

Because he knew you knew.

He felt the way your cheek shifted slightly against his shoulder as you smiled. And for some reason, that made something coil in his stomach, something unfamiliar, something he didn’t want to name.

“You still haven’t answered me.” you murmured.

“About what?”

“Do you want me to go?”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “I told you, I don’t care.”

“You care about some things.” you said, voice light. “You cared enough to come check on me, didn’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t confirm or deny. Because you were right.

“…You really think Niragi’s gonna let you say no?” he said instead.

You let out a small breath. “No. But it’s cute when he thinks I have a choice.”

Chishiya huffed quietly, shaking his head slightly. You were ridiculous. But he didn’t argue. Because he knew Niragi wouldn’t let you go. And that was the problem.

Not because he was worried about you. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle it. But because Niragi was Niragi. He needed. He took. And Chishiya knew that once he had his teeth in something, he wasn’t letting go.

Now that “something” was you.

You, with all your warmth, all your softness, all the kindness that neither of them deserved.

“…You really want to go?” Chishiya asked after a moment.

You sighed, fingers absently running along the rim of your glass. “I don’t know.”

Chishiya turned his head slightly, just enough that he could see your face, your expression thoughtful, conflicted. You meant it. You really didn’t know.

“…Does it matter if I want you to go?” he asked eventually.

You turned your head, cheek still against his shoulder, looking up at him now.

“Yes.” you said simply. “It does.”

And Chishiya felt his stomach twist.

Because fuck you.

Fuck you for being so sincere. For looking at him like his opinion actually mattered, like he actually mattered. Because he wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to you.

“…You should sleep.” he said eventually, looking away.

You hummed, closing your eyes briefly against his shoulder. “Yeah. Probably.”

Neither of you moved.

You lifted your head slightly, your cheek dragging against the fabric of his hoodie as you turned to look at him over his shoulder. He felt it before he saw it—your movement, your warmth, the way your breath ghosted against his skin.

Chishiya tilted his head, just slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet yours.

Close.

You were so close.

Your eyes flickered over his face, searching, thoughtful. Not in the way most people looked at him. No, you looked at him like you were concerned. Like you cared.

“…How have you been?” you asked, voice quiet.

Chishiya raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze not breaking from his. “Since we talked. That night.”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. He should’ve expected that. Of course you would bring it up. Of course you wouldn’t just let it go.

He rolled his shoulder slightly, shifting against the counter. “I’m fine.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He sighed.

“You’re looking at me like I just lied.” he muttered.

You didn’t deny it. Instead, you softened, just a little. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chishiya studied you for a moment, then looked away. “Not now.”

You nodded, unbothered. “Okay.”

Chishiya glanced at you again, a little surprised at how easily you let it go.

“I’m here when you do.” you reached up, your fingers barely brushing the back of his head before sliding deeper into his hair, a soft, slow movement that made something in his chest tighten.

It wasn’t much.

It wasn’t anything, really.

But it was gentle.

It was warm.

You sighed, your fingers tracing absentmindedly through his hair, the touch more comforting than anything he could ever remember.

“…I like your hair.” you murmured suddenly, voice light, thoughtful. “Always looks so soft.”

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

You huffed a small breath. “You think everything I say is weird.”

He didn’t argue.

You smiled, tilting your head again. “But it is soft.”

Chishiya exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Not even close.”

Of course not.

Of course not.

You never were.

Chishiya sighed, letting his head tilt slightly into your touch. He told himself it was just because he was tired. That it was just easier than moving away. But deep down, somewhere, he knew the truth. That he didn’t want you to stop.

You sighed, your breath warm against the fabric of his hoodie as you let your head rest against his shoulder again.

Just for a little longer.

You felt him shift slightly but not pull away, and that alone made something in your chest ache. Because Chishiya wasn’t the type to seek out comfort. He wasn’t the type to allow it, accept it. And yet, here he was. Letting you stay close. Letting you rest against him like this, in the quiet of the dimly lit kitchen.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

And you knew better than to push. So you just sat there for another few seconds, letting the silence settle between you.

Eventually, though, you sighed again.

“Alright.” you murmured, lifting your head, stretching your arms slightly before pushing yourself up from the counter.

Chishiya straightened a little as you moved, his eyes flickering over you.

You gave him a smile, small but warm. And when you spoke, your voice was just as gentle. “You should get some rest.”

“Should I?”

You grinned, tilting your head. “I don’t know, doctor. Should you?”

Without thinking, without even hesitating, you reached out and gave his arm a soft squeeze.

Comforting.

Familiar.

Like you had known him forever.

Like you wanted to know him forever.

He just stared at you.

You gave him one last, lingering glance, something soft and sincere in your expression, before you turned on your heel and padded back toward the hallway.

You were gone.

Chishiya stood there for a moment, unmoving, hands still in his hoodie pockets as he listened to the faint sound of your footsteps disappearing down the hall.

And then, when he was finally alone, he let out a slow breath, tilting his head back slightly to stare at the ceiling.

You were getting close.

Too close.

~

The morning was still heavy with sleep when you stepped into the living room, your slippers soft against the floor, your hair a little messy, tired. All you really wanted was a slow morning—maybe some tea, maybe some time to wake up properly.

But the moment you entered, you knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Chishiya stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze steady, but something about the way he watched you felt expectant. Like he was waiting for something.

And then there was Niragi. His rifle swinging casually in one hand as if it was nothing more than an accessory.

“Hey.” Niragi cooed, tilting his head, his voice syrupy sweet. “Hope you slept well, because we’re leaving.”

You blinked, still sluggish with sleep. “What?”

“Time to go.” he drawled, waving his gun around, gesturing lazily toward the door. “We’re taking you home.”

Home.

You looked at him, then at Chishiya, then back at Niragi. “You’re serious?”

“As a bullet to the skull, sweetheart.” Niragi grinned, shifting his rifle to rest against his shoulder. “So go get your shit. We’re not wasting any more time.”

You felt your stomach twist. “I—I just woke up. You didn’t even give me a second to—”

“Don’t need a second.” Niragi interrupted smoothly, stepping closer, voice dropping into something almost sickeningly sweet. “C’mon, baby, no need to drag this out.” His free hand came up, his fingers just barely grazing your chin before you pulled back slightly, and god—he had the audacity to chuckle. “It’s cute, though.” he added, tapping the barrel of his rifle against his temple. “That little hesitation. But we both know you’re coming with us, yeah?”

Your throat tightened. “I just—I need a second to think, I need—”

“You don’t.” Chishiya finally spoke, voice calm, steady. “Thinking about it won’t change anything.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to him. “That’s not—”

“You want to stay here?” Chishiya asked, tilting his head slightly, like he already knew the answer. “Alone?”

And that was the thing.

You didn’t.

They knew you didn’t.

And maybe if they had asked instead of telling, you wouldn’t feel this sick about it.

But Niragi wasn’t going to ask. He was already wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, the metal of his gun cold against your arm as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing your ear.

“C’mon, angel.” he murmured, low and coaxing. “We take care of you. I take care of you.”

You swallowed hard.

And Niragi knew. Because he laughed, tapping the rifle against your thigh now, light and teasing, as if he wasn’t wielding something deadly.

“That’s my girl.”

He pulled back just slightly as he took you in—your hesitation, the way you stood there, almost barefoot in your sleepwear, barely awake, barely processing. He had you, and he knew it.

“Go get dressed.” he said, sharp but still syrupy sweet. “We’re not waiting all fucking day for you to stand here looking like a lost little bunny.”

Your mouth opened slightly, but there was nothing to say, nothing you could argue when he was looking at you like that—like he already won, like he always won.

And maybe that was the worst part. That you let him win.

So you sighed, brushing past them, Niragi’s fingers ghosting over your wrist just for a second as you did. You didn’t look back, just walked down the hall to your room, closing the door behind you and letting out a slow breath.

They didn’t give you space to argue, didn’t give you time to think.

And now here you were.

Leaving everything you built behind because they told you to.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your tired eyes, your pretty clothes, the way you still looked soft and sleepy. They expected you to get up and leave, no time to dwell on what you were abandoning.

Fine.

If you were going to leave, you were at least going to look good doing it. So you changed, slipping into something pretty, something soft. Pink. Some dress.

And when you stepped back into the living room, brushing your hands over the fabric, adjusting it slightly, Niragi let out a low whistle, head tilting, eyes dragging over you from head to toe.

“Fuck.” he muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Look at you.”

You didn’t respond, just raised an eyebrow, but that only made his grin wider.

“Dressing up for me, angel?” he asked, voice teasing.

“For myself.” you corrected, but you knew it didn’t matter what you said—he was going to take credit for it anyway.

Niragi stepped closer, reaching out, his fingers just barely grazing the hem of your dress before you swatted his hand away. He only laughed.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, waving his gun lazily in the air, dragging his mouth. “Get your shit. We’re leaving.”

Chishiya hadn’t said anything yet, just stood there watching, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking between the two of you. He didn’t whistle, didn’t make a comment, but his eyes lingered for half a second longer than they should have before he finally spoke. “Put the gun down.”

Niragi laughed. “Oh, come on, let me have my fun.”

But he lowered it.

For now.

You blinked at them, standing there in your pretty pink dress, fingers lightly fidgeting with the hem. You were still waking up, still trying to catch up with the way they just decided things and expected you to fall in line. “You two aren’t bringing anything?”

Niragi snorted, twirling his gun around his finger. “What the fuck do I need? I’ve got this.”

You stared at him. Then looked at Chishiya, who, predictably, looked unbothered, hands tucked into his hoodie.

“So… you’re telling me we’re leaving, just like that, and you two don’t need anything?”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re not princesses like you. We don’t need to pack a fucking suitcase.”

You hummed softly, tilting your head. “But what if you get hungry? Or if it gets cold?”

“Then we eat whatever’s there, and if it’s cold, I’ll just use you for warmth.”

That made you huff a little laugh, but you shook your head. “I just mean… you’re making me pack, but you haven’t thought about what you need at all.”

Niragi waved you off like it was the dumbest thing he ever heard. “We’re not staying in the middle of nowhere, angel. There’s food there. There’s clothes. I can get a hundred outfits, and I’ll still look better than every sad fuck at the Beach.”

Chishiya finally cut in, voice dry. “That’s assuming there’s anything left for you to steal.”

That actually made Niragi laugh, like the idea of arriving back at the Beach and having nothing was hilarious. Maybe it was.

“What do you even need to bring?” Niragi asked, pointing his gun at you, not as a threat, just to make a point.

You blinked, mouth opening slightly. “Um—”

Niragi didn’t even let you start. “Clothes? You think we don’t have clothes there?”

“Well, I just—”

“And food? We have that too.”

Chishiya, ever the calm voice of reason, glanced at Niragi. “Still needs things.”

“Like what?” Niragi scoffed.

And this was where you should have been irritated, where you should have pointed out that you knew what you needed better than they did. But you weren’t irritated. You weren’t annoyed. You just stood there, watching them bicker about your things like they had more of a say in it than you did.

It was so them.

Chishiya sighed, still looking at Niragi like he was exasperated. “Toothbrush, for one.”

Niragi made a face, like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. “She can get a new one.”

You stifled a laugh. “I like my toothbrush.”

“And what about hygiene products?” Chishiya added, like he knew Niragi hadn’t even thought of that.

That made Niragi’s face twist up slightly, nose scrunching. “What, you mean period shit?”

“Yes, Niragi.” you said flatly. “Period shit.”

You were trying so hard not to laugh, watching Niragi act like the concept of periods was somehow going to kill him. He waved his gun a little, expression dramatic.

“Just take what you need and let’s go.”

And that was the end of the conversation, apparently.

Not that it was really a conversation to begin with.

You just smiled, shaking your head, already turning back towards your room to pack.

You barely had time to adjust the strap of your pink little bag before Niragi was already waving his gun toward the door, like some impatient drill sergeant who had no concept of personal space.

“Move it, angel.”

Chishiya was less aggressive about it, but no less expectant. He stood by the entrance, hands tucked into his hoodie, watching you with that expression that meant he was thinking something, but he wasn’t going to share.

You hesitated for just a second, looking over your shoulder. The little apartment you had built into a home—your fairy lights still glowing faintly against the morning light, your cozy little couch, the kitchen where you spent so many nights making food for the very same men dragging you away now.

And maybe they saw it, that flicker of attachment in your expression, because Niragi’s voice softened. Just a little.

“C’mon, baby. No use looking back now.”

The way he said it was almost gentle, but there was an edge to it, like he needed you to listen, like he needed you to turn away from all this and go with them.

But you still stood there, frozen for just a moment too long.

And then Niragi was suddenly behind you, long fingers wrapping around your wrist, not squeezing, not pulling—just holding. His voice dropped low, too sweet, almost coaxing.

“You don’t need this place anymore.”

You felt bad. But that didn’t stop you from exhaling, from letting your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag before finally nodding.

“Okay.”

And that was all it took.

Niragi grinned, triumphant, and Chishiya just gave the smallest tilt of his head, like he knew this was going to happen, like he knew you were always going to choose them in the end.

And just like that, you were stepping forward, out of the apartment, out of everything you had made for yourself.

Niragi threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close like you belonged to him, like he had won. His lips pressed against the top of your head in something that almost felt affectionate—but you knew better.

And Chishiya? He just glanced at you as you walked past him, his gaze lingering for just a second too long before he followed.

You didn’t look back.

~

The streets stretched out before you, empty and endless, the sun casting long shadows against the crumbling buildings. You followed behind them, one step after another, the soles of your pretty shoes barely making a sound against the cracked pavement.

You were always talking. Always. You were an endless stream of warmth, of sweet words and gentle touches, filling the silence with something bright and real. But now? Now, you didn’t say a word.

Niragi’s eyes flicked back toward you, just a glance over his shoulder, but it lingered. Like he was waiting for you to say something, anything. A dumb little comment, some rambling thought about the buildings you passed, or maybe just the way the sky looked today. But you said nothing.

Chishiya noticed too, of course. He always did. He didn’t look back at you, didn’t even acknowledge it at first. But his steps slowed, just slightly, just enough that you could catch up to his side if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

You just kept walking, a few paces behind them, watching the city as it passed.

You had built something back there. In that little apartment, in the warmth of your fairy lights, in the way you had decorated every corner like it mattered. Because it did matter.

And now you were leaving it behind.

You didn’t want to.

But you loved them more.

So you followed.

You watched the wind ripple through the abandoned streets, stirring up old newspapers and broken glass. You watched the buildings, the ones you had learned to recognize, the ones that had made up your world for so long. You memorized them, committed them to the back of your mind like a photograph, like a goodbye.

And still, you were quiet.

Niragi exhaled sharply, tilting his head to the sky before finally throwing his arms out dramatically, his voice breaking through the silence like he couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Alright, what the fuck is it?”

You blinked, finally looking at him.

He slowed his steps, turning to face you fully now, walking backward like it was easy, like he had done this a thousand times before. The gun dangled loosely from his fingers, the weight of it careless.

You didn’t answer.

His expression twitched, just for a second, like he was resisting the urge to grab you, to shake the words out of you. Instead, he lifted the gun, tapping it against his temple with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, come on. You’re making me feel bad here.”

That wasn’t true. Niragi didn’t feel bad about shit. But he did feel bored, and he did feel annoyed, and you knew that was just as dangerous.

Still, you didn’t answer.

Chishiya finally turned his head, just slightly, just enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye. He was quiet too, but his silence was calculated. Yours wasn’t.

Yours was grief.

And Niragi? Niragi fucking hated that.

His fingers tightened around his gun before he finally dropped his arm back to his side. “What, you miss your little dollhouse already?”

It was mean. It was supposed to be. Niragi was always mean. But the second he said it, something flickered across his face, too fast for you to catch. Something almost uncertain.

Because he had the feeling that, for the first time, he had said the wrong thing.

“Yes.”

One word. No hesitation. No softness, no attempt to sugarcoat it, no sweet little smile to smooth the edges. Just yes.

Niragi actually faltered. It wasn’t much—just a flicker of something across his features, just the briefest twitch of his fingers around the gun. Like he had been expecting you to brush it off, to laugh it away, to say something sweet and pretty and manageable.

But you didn’t.

You just stood there, looking at him like that, like the weight of this decision was sinking into your bones, like it hurt, and Niragi hated it.

He hated that you weren’t fawning over him right now. He hated that you weren’t touching him, that your hands weren’t on his arm, on his face, soothing away whatever nastiness came out of his mouth. He hated that for the first time in a long fucking time, he wasn’t the center of your universe.

And most of all? He hated the way you looked at him.

Not angry. Not even upset.

Just honest.

It was fucking unbearable.

“Pft.” Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes, shifting his weight onto one foot. “You’re seriously pouting over some shitty little apartment? That place was a fucking dump.”

You tilted your head, still watching him.

You never snapped.

Not once.

You had all the reason to. You had been through hell and back, you had lost, you had bled, you had killed, and still, still you had never once raised your voice in anger. Never let the poison leak out the way it had infected the rest of them.

You could have.

You should have.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you just exhaled quietly, gaze flicking toward the empty street ahead before dropping to the cracked pavement beneath your feet.

“…It was my home.”

Niragi actually stopped walking. For half a second. For the tiniest fraction of time, he just stood there, blinking, his fingers twitching around the gun before he huffed sharply, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on.” He threw out his arms again, gesturing around wildly. “This is your home now, sweetheart. Us. We’re your home.”

The words came out too fast. Too insistent. Like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you.

You looked at him for a long moment, something soft shifting behind your eyes, something Niragi couldn’t fucking stand, something that made him want to bite, to scratch, to ruin it.

But you just smiled, small and tired, before finally stepping forward, finally pressing a hand to his chest, your touch feather-light. “I know.”

Niragi exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away.

Whatever. You were fine. You’d get over it.

Chishiya, who had been silent this entire time, finally spoke, his voice as quiet and dry as ever. “We’re burning daylight.”

Niragi huffed again, but he turned around, walking forward, letting his fingers tap against the barrel of his gun as he walked.

You followed.

Of course you did.

But Niragi didn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

He didn’t know how to leave things alone. He was the kind of guy who had to keep pressing, keep poking, keep digging until he hit something raw. He liked getting reactions out of people, liked watching them twitch, liked knowing he was the one pulling the strings.

So of course, as you walked behind them, all quiet and weird and not you, Niragi couldn’t just let it go.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he scoffed, knocking his elbow against yours, forcing you to look at him. “You gonna sulk the whole way there?”

You barely even reacted. Just a small blink, a tiny glance up at him, before your gaze dropped again.

Fucking hell.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Seriously, this is pathetic. What, you need me to hold your hand or something?”

No biting retort. No exasperated sigh. No teasing little smile.

Just silence.

It was pissing him off.

Niragi clicked his tongue, reaching out to tug at the strap of your bag, yanking on it just enough to jolt you. “C’mon, babe. Don’t tell me I gotta babysit your ass all the way back—”

Then you turned your head and looked at him.

And fuck.

It hit him like a goddamn bullet to the ribs.

Your eyes—big, round, shiny. You looked at him like a kicked puppy, like someone had taken something out of you and hadn’t given it back, like you were standing in the middle of an empty fucking street, lost.

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

Because for the first time since meeting you, he had the distinct, horrible feeling that he had actually hurt you.

Not the usual way. Not the way he liked.

But in some way that twisted up his insides, made something uncomfortable curl in his stomach, made his fingers flex and twitch like he wanted to grab you and shake you and fix it.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know how.

“…Fuck’s sake.” he muttered, glancing away, rolling his shoulders back like it could shake off the weight pressing against his ribs. “You’re such a fucking crybaby.”

It was cruel.

It was unnecessary.

But it was safe.

Because Niragi didn’t know how to deal with softness. He didn’t know how to sit with it, how to hold it, how to fucking comfort someone without turning it into a joke.

And god, you were so soft.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t even flinch at his words. Just let out a slow, quiet exhale through your nose before dropping your gaze again, lashes brushing against your cheeks as you looked down.

That uncomfortable feeling in Niragi’s chest only grew.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t fucking care.

And yet, as you kept walking, as you kept trailing slightly behind them, so small and quiet and not yourself—Niragi felt his fingers twitch with the overwhelming, unbearable urge to grab your wrist.

To pull you closer.

To do something.

But he didn’t.

He just scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, eyes flicking up toward the sky, as if he could find an answer there.

Whatever. You’d be fine.

You always were.

~

You had been walking for a while now.

It should have felt peaceful. But it didn’t.

Because you were quiet.

And Niragi was ignoring that, pretending not to care, half-focused on searching for bullets in whatever abandoned buildings you passed.

And Chishiya—well. Chishiya noticed everything. He walked ahead for a long while, hands in his pockets, glancing back at you every so often. Your pink little bag bounced slightly with every step, but you still walked slower than them, trailing behind, eyes downcast. You hadn’t even tried to talk to them.

That wasn’t like you.

And maybe that was why, after a few more minutes, Chishiya suddenly slowed his pace.

Then he was walking next to you.

“You know,” he said. “I saw your cat.”

You blinked, glancing up at him.

It was so sudden—such a random topic, so detached from the weight hanging between you. But maybe that was why it worked.

“…Really?” your voice was quiet, hesitant. But it was something.

Chishiya nodded, gaze still ahead. “Mm. The orange one. Looked well-fed.”

Your brows furrowed a little. “How would it even get food in this city?”

“There are ways.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe it steals.”

Your lips parted, confused. Then, a small huff of laughter, a tiny curl of your mouth.

From a few steps ahead, Niragi let out a loud scoff.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” he sneered, not even looking back. “Are we seriously talking about a fucking cat right now?”

You tensed slightly at his voice. But before you could retreat back into yourself, Chishiya hummed.

“I don’t see why not.” he said. “It’s better than listening to you talk about your gun.”

You let out a real laugh at that. Short, soft, but real.

And Niragi whipped his head around, giving Chishiya a nasty glare. Chishiya just raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered.

And maybe it was that, maybe it was the ease of it, or maybe it was the way Niragi’s face twisted into irritation—but suddenly, something about it felt normal.

Like you had slipped back into something familiar, something safe.

You weren’t completely okay—not yet. But you felt lighter.

And Chishiya—he didn’t smile, didn’t change his expression. But as you kept talking, soft and genuine, he couldn’t help but feel something satisfied settle in his chest.

Because he had done that.

And he wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it did.

“God, you two are fucking boring.” Niragi turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder at you and Chishiya.

You had barely said anything about his previous complaint—just a little glance in his direction before going back to your conversation with Chishiya, soft-spoken and calm.

That irritated him.

Niragi didn’t like being ignored.

So, naturally, he decided to entertain himself.

He twirled his gun in his fingers, walking backward as he looked at you both. “I mean, fuck, is this what I have to deal with now? You two whispering about cats and whatever the fuck else?”

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

But Niragi just smiled. “Oh, but I want to.”

And before either of you could respond, Niragi suddenly whipped his gun up and shot at a car to the side of the street.

The sound exploded through the air.

You didn’t even flinch. Not even when Niragi screamed immediately after, the sound completely unhinged, something wild and cruel and thrilled.

“WOOOHOOO!!” he roared, dragging the word out as long as his lungs would let him, head tilting back with the force of it. Then he shot again—BANG BANG—at nothing in particular, just making noise, just because he could.

He was laughing, loud and rough, adrenaline singing through his veins as he waved the gun around.

Chishiya sighed, visibly unimpressed, but still didn’t say anything.

And you—well. You just watched him, eyes soft, curious, as if you were observing some strange new species rather than a man waving a gun in the air like a lunatic.

You had always been like that with him.

Like nothing he did could truly shake you.

Like you weren’t scared of him.

It should have pissed him off. Should have made him want to shake you, make you react, make you afraid. But instead—somehow—it just made him want to do more.

So he shot again.

And again.

Shouting, laughing, alive.

And you, still, just walked. Quiet. Unbothered. Like this was just him. Like you were used to it.

You picked up your pace. Your feet barely made a sound against the pavement, slipping between Niragi’s wild movements—ducking under the gun he swung carelessly in the air, stepping closer even as he pointed it at you, completely unbothered by the way his finger twitched over the trigger.

You had walked in silence long enough. And you weren’t meant for silence. You were not fine. You were so fine. So you spoke.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?”

Niragi turned his head sharply, mouth open as it usually was, his gun shifting just slightly in your direction. He didn’t actually stop walking, still moving forward, but his attention was on you now.

You had it so easily. Just like that.

Chishiya watched from a few paces behind.

“I’ve been thinking,” you continued, eyes bright again. “about mini ponies.”

Niragi blinked. Then let out a short, barking laugh, almost thrown off by the unexpected words.

You smiled, as if pleased with yourself. “Not the baby ones—”

“That’s literally what you just said.” Niragi’s voice was like he was trying to find a way to ruin this for you.

“No, not baby ones.” you corrected quickly, turning to him fully now, completely unafraid of the way the barrel of his gun lazily moved with you. “Mini ponies. Like, the little tiny guys that are just small but aren’t actual babies.”

Niragi tilted his head, considering. Then shrugged. “So what?”

“So, do you think we can find them now?”

He raised a brow. “In Tokyo?”

“Well, now that animals are coming back.” you reasoned, tilting your head. “There’s been deer. Birds. I saw a dog the other day.”

“Congratulations.” Niragi said dryly.

You ignored him, already carried away in your own thoughts. “I mean, they’re out there somewhere, right? Someone probably had them as pets before, and now they could just be running around.”

Niragi smirked. “Yeah. Feral mini ponies. That’s exactly what we need.”

You gasped. “That would be adorable.”

He laughed at your enthusiasm. But you were already going on, lost in the idea, moving your hands as you spoke.

“Just imagine it.” you pressed, stepping closer, almost walking backward now to face him. “Tiny little guys, galloping around the city. Doing whatever they want. No rules.”

“You trying to be poetic?”

“I just think they’re cute.”

“They’re useless.”

“But cute.”

“Completely fucking worthless.”

“But you wouldn’t shoot one.”

Niragi paused. For a moment, it looked like he might try to argue—might grin in your face and say of course I would, might try to pull that same cruelty he always did, might test you just to see if you would still look at him like that.

But he didn’t. Instead, he let his gun drop back to his side, looking you over with something unreadable before scoffing under his breath. “Tch. You’re so fucking weird.”

You smiled, satisfied. “So no shooting mini ponies?”

“Didn’t fucking say that.”

You spun on your heel. “You think mini ponies are a dumb topic?”

“I think you’re dumb for thinking they’d survive here.” Chishiya said.

“But they could.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They’re prey animals.”

“I could be a prey animal.”

Niragi choked on a laugh. “Oh, bullshit.”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “I mean, technically—”

“You’re the most annoying prey animal I’ve ever met.”

You grinned. “Then I’d survive, wouldn’t I?”

Niragi let out another laugh, grinning, looking like he was lost in his own little world again.

For the first time in hours, you didn’t feel so heavy. You liked talking to them. They cheered you up. Didn’t they ruin your mood first point?

BANG.

The sound cracked through the air, shattering the relative quiet of the empty streets. Birds scattered from the tops of abandoned buildings, a few loose signs rattled against rusted poles, and the echoes stretched for blocks.

And Niragi just laughed.

He swung the gun around in his hand, spinning it lazily with his fingers before firing off another round into the sky.

BANG.

“God, I fucking love this thing!”

You flinched at the volume—not from fear, just from how loud it was—but kept walking, barely reacting beyond that. You weren’t stupid. Niragi would point his gun at you, sure, would wave it in your face like a toy, but he wouldn’t shoot. Not you.

Chishiya, on the other hand, did react. Not much, just a small sigh from where he walked a few steps behind you, his hands still tucked in his pockets, but it was pointed—long suffering and unimpressed.

Niragi smirked at him. “What? You scared, doc?”

“Only of losing my hearing.” Chishiya muttered.

Niragi snorted, but he didn’t actually care about Chishiya’s complaints. No, he was more interested in himself. In you. The way you had been quiet—unnaturally, eerily quiet—since leaving, and now? Now, you were talking again. Moving again.

And he liked that.

Even Chishiya had noticed.

You weren’t sulking anymore. Instead, you had been talking—rambling, you, moving your hands as you spoke, eyes bright with some dumb topic about mini ponies and feral animals and whether or not they could be out here somewhere. It was stupid—so stupid—but it was you.

And whether they would admit it or not, they liked it better this way.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those horse girls.” Niragi poked his cheek with his tongue.

You let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “How dare you?”

“So that’s a yes?”

“No!” You huffed. “I just like animals. And they’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi waved a hand, still walking ahead. “Next you’ll be talking about how you wanna rescue all the stray dogs or some shit.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s actually such a good idea.”

“Fuck me.”

Chishiya let out the faintest huff beside you, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips. You turned to him immediately, your attention snapping over, catching onto it so fast.

“Oh, so you do find me funny.” you teased, eyes narrowing playfully.

Chishiya didn’t dignify that with an answer.

You grinned anyway. “You do!”

He hummed. “I think you say dumb things in an entertaining way.”

“That’s an insult.”

He shrugged.

Niragi snorted again, and you turned back to him.

“Okay, but seriously.” you continued. “If we found a stray dog, you wouldn’t just leave it there, right?”

“Wouldn’t be my fucking problem.”

You gave him a look. “Niragi.”

“What?” He grinned. “You want me to build a fucking animal shelter out here?”

“I mean—”

“Do I look like some charity?”

“Niragi.”

“Do I have ‘fucking saint’ tattooed on my face?”

“Niragi—”

“Do I—”

“Niragi!”

He shot you a look. A fucking sassy one at that.

You huffed again. “You wouldn’t leave a dog if it came up to you.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “And how the fuck do you know that?”

“Because you like things that follow you around.”

Silence.

Niragi’s fingers tightened around his gun for a fraction of a second before relaxing again. Chishiya, beside you, let his gaze flick over to the interaction, silent, but watching. Thinking.

You knew Niragi liked attention. Knew he liked being the center of things, liked knowing people wanted him, needed him, were following him—not just physically, but emotionally. He liked control, liked the pull, liked knowing that the only warmth he’d ever been given was from you.

And he liked seeing you give it to him.

Even now, as he scoffed and turned away, throwing another bullet into the sky with a BANG, you knew.

You were talking again. Social again.

And both of them noticed.

“WOOOOOOOH!”

BANG.

A bullet ricocheted off a rusted streetlight, causing a high-pitched ping! to ring through the air. Niragi swung his gun again, pointing it up, down, around, at buildings, at the sky, at nothing at all, until he finally turned and aimed it straight at Chishiya’s head.

Chishiya didn’t even blink.

“Pull it.” he said, voice flat.

Niragi’s grinned like he actually might.

“Niragi.” you called out.

He turned to you instead, gun swinging midair before finally lowering it again. “What?”

“You’re loud.”

“Yeah?” He snorted, spreading his arms out. “That’s the fucking point!”

And then he screamed again, this time straight into the sky, voice stretching for blocks, breaking through the quiet that had settled after all the gunfire.

Chishiya exhaled, suffering. “You’re going to get us killed before we even make it back.”

Niragi just laughed.

You only watched. Watched as he moved through the streets like something untamed, something feral—a creature of chaos that had never learned how to be human, had never wanted to be, at least convinced himself of that. Watched how he spun his gun in his fingers, how he knew that Chishiya wouldn’t flinch when he pointed it at him, how he knew that you’d tell him to put it down, but he still did it anyway.

Watched how Chishiya never once stopped walking, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking over you both like he was waiting for the moment this all spiraled into something he could predict. Something he could understand.

You watched them.

And they watched you.

You had been quiet. You had been sad. But they had fixed that, hadn’t they?

Or—no. That wasn’t the right word.

They had redirected it.

Pulled you from one thing into another, had moved you, placed you back into motion so you couldn’t sit and mourn. And wasn’t that what Niragi did best? Push and push and push so no one had time to think, so you were only following, so you never stopped? And wasn’t that what Chishiya did too? Let people move the way they thought they wanted, but keep them within reach, let them settle into something, let them believe—

But you weren’t stupid.

And the truth was?

You liked it.

You liked them.

You had already been following them before you even realized you were walking. Had already decided that, even though your chest ached looking back at the home you had built, it would ache more if you let them leave without you.

You didn’t want to be left behind.

And maybe—just maybe—neither did they.

❤︎︎ @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

[bonbonly]

BONBON!!! need collegeau! carlos punishing artstudent!reader for going almost no contact with him when she was on her trip with mrs sainz. left him in the dark, wondering if she was with another man.. he needs to leaves so many marks so that no man goes near her for a while.. 🙏

LITERALLY AS SOON AS I FINISHED WRITING "INTO THE WOODS" I WAS LIKE I NEED TO GET TO EM'S ASK (and im combining 🍒 anon's ask in this as well!)

bon's thoughts (18+)

college!au carlos is at his study room, typing up an assignment that he has for his entrepreneurship class. his fingers drum against the keyboard before he adds another paragraph to his proposal. he leans back in his chair, reading over the word doc and then stiffening when he hears your laughter downstairs.

you had just come back from an art exhibition with his mother. you spent the past two weeks ignoring his texts, never picking up his calls. every time he did call, it was always when you were talking with an art director about trying to get your paintings to another gallery across the globe. by the time you'd get back to your hotel room, you're passed out and dozing off, completely oblivious to the thousand calls carlos was spamming you with.

mrs. sainz is making pasta for everyone tonight, and she smiles at you, "my dear, would you mind going upstairs and getting carlos? i heard he hasn't eaten anything since lunch, no snacks or juice! my poor boy must be starving!"

you laugh, slipping off the stool and nodding your head, "will do, mrs. sainz!" and you skip out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs. you approach his room, and pause in front of his door. you peer into the small crack and see him working diligently, his glasses on. he never really wore glasses that often, only if he was locked in and trying to get his work done. but ugh, he looked really good wearing it. you clear your throat, knocking on the door, "carlos! your mom's calling you for dinner!"

"come in!" carlos barks, cracking his knuckles. you enter, closing the door behind you,

"hey!" you smile, but your face falls when you see that he's glaring at you. he gestures for you to walk over to him and you sigh, reaching him behind his desk and running a hand through his hair, "hey, what's up? is your college work too much?" but before you can get a response, he shuts his laptop, placing it to the side and tosses all the papers and pencils onto the ground before picking you up and slamming you onto the table. you gasp out loud as he's tearing your clothes off, spreading your legs wide. he lets a trail of his saliva flow onto your pussy, his fingers sliding the spit along your folds which causes you to choke back a moan as you gaze at him with wide eyes. he chuckles, darkly,

"very cute of you, hermosa," he snickers, licking your clit, "i think my dinner's right here." and he wraps his entire mouth around your cunt, slurping the sweet juice you have to offer him. you're shaking as he continues, and folds you into a mating press as he rubs his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent, "fuck, i've spent two weeks without your calls and texts, imagine how much i missed you, princesa"

and you gulp, realizing that he didn't forget the fact that you forgot to call him back. he's holding onto your wrists to make sure you can't hold onto his hair as his tongue delves deeper, his head shaking against your cunt which has you crying out loud about how good his tongue is. truth is you missed him too, but you wouldn't say that because you knew his ego would get bigger. when you cum around his tongue, he lets his tongue drag up to your tits, sucking and biting anywhere that he can find. he's marking your neck, your forehead, your collarbones, even your arms, all while his cock is pistoning inside of you without stopping.

"are you going to cum? hm, is that what's going to happen?" he mocks your pleas as you're frantically nodding your head, telling him how close you were. he laughs, shaking his head, "i thought you were fucking some other man, i thought you had forgotten all about me... me, the man that even got you those art exhibitions! fuck, i think the only way you'll ever understand is if i get you pregnant. my cum flowing out of you every night. my mama will be so happy to be the grandmother to our child."

"carlos!" you scream, clenching around his cock as his nibbles your ear. your legs are stretched so wide you know you're going to be limping back downstairs. a knock on the door makes you snap your head to the side, and carlos is grinning as he's pounding into you faster.

"carlos, what's taking you so long?" mrs. sainz asks from the other side, and carlos groans quietly to himself at the feeling of your pussy swallowing him, taking him deeper,

"just a bit... fuck, busy with work mama! we'll be out soon, don't worry! give me 10 more minutes!" he yells, and mrs. sainz sighs,

"take your time! your work comes first, mi hijo!" her footsteps grow quieter as she heads back downstairs, and carlos grabs your jaw, forcing you to look back at him,

"you heard what she said, mi zorra, you better hope mi mama doesn't see my cum all over you," and you whimper out loud, biting your lip at the thought of being drenched from head to toe in his cum. he giggles, shaking his head, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? and who am I to deny my princesa?"

[scribbly-squid]

Sanctuary | Lucifer Imagine

Lucifer x Reader

Imagine: Lucifer give you comfort and love as you break down, reminding you that you’re never alone and that he’ll face every challenge by your side.

Masterlist

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Lucifer asked softly, his crimson gaze fixed on you. He’d surprised you with your favorite dinner, but you hadn’t taken a single bite. The untouched plate and your uncharacteristic silence all day had his worry creeping higher by the second.

Your face rested in your hands, fingers drumming lightly at your temple, tears clinging to your lashes for what felt like the hundredth time today. You hated how obvious your emotions were—now, on top of everything else, you’d troubled Lucifer. “Nothing,” you murmured, a lie barely held together by a halfhearted poke at your plate with your spoon. You avoided his gaze, hoping he’d let it go.

But of course, he didn’t. Gently, he slid a hand across the table, tracing along your arm until his fingers closed softly around your wrist. Turning your hand palm-up between you, he covered it with his own. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin beneath your thumb, where your pulse thudded noticeably at his touch.

His brows furrowed in concern, his voice low and tender. “I know you don’t cry over nothing,” he whispered.

“I’m just… sad,” you admitted, though your voice trembled. The weight of your bottled-up emotions threatened to crack your composure. You sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay, and turned your gaze downward. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”

Lucifer studied you for a moment, his expression softening. He understood far too well what it was like to carry that weight alone—he had been in your shoes once, before he met you.

“I understand,” he said gently. His free hand rose to cup your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. “But if you change your mind—”

“I know,” you cut him off, leaning into his touch. Your gaze met his, and the warmth in his eyes soothed you more than words ever could. “Thank you.”

Seeing you like this made Lucifer’s chest ache. He hated the helplessness that came with knowing he couldn’t simply take your pain away. But if being by your side was what you needed, he would give you that without hesitation.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked softly.

“You care, Luci, and you’re here with me. That’s enough,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the walls you've built around your emotions began to crumble. Tears slipped down your cheeks, some landing on his hand. Lucifer’s heart twisted as he felt your pain so vividly—it was almost unbearable to witness the person he cherished breaking before him.

“I do care about you,” he said firmly, his voice laced with quiet conviction. “I always will. Very much. And I’m right here.”

Standing, Lucifer moved to your side, pulling his chair closer. He wrapped his arms around you, his embrace steady and warm. With a soft snap of his fingers, you were both in your shared bedroom. Before you could process the shift, you finally broke, sobbing into his chest as every emotion you’d tried to suppress came pouring out.

He held you tightly, one hand running soothing circles on your back while the other cradled your head. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, whispering words of reassurance in a voice meant only for you. “I’m here my love. For as long as you need me, I’m here.”

Lucifer let you cry, never rushing or shushing you. He simply let you feel everything in his arms, anchoring you with his warmth. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, with nothing but your quiet sobs and his soft words filling the space. When your breathing finally steadied, he gently pulled back, tilting your chin upward to meet his gaze.

“Better?” he asked softly, brushing away the tear tracks on your cheeks with his thumb.

You nodded, though your voice was hoarse when you spoke. “A little. I’m sorry I—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize for feeling, sweetheart. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

His words unraveled something deeper in you, and though the tears didn’t return, the weight on your chest lightened just a little more.

Lucifer’s lips curved into a faint, affectionate smile. “You’ve been carrying so much on your own, haven’t you?” His voice was quiet, but the heaviness in it betrayed his heartache for you. “Let me share some of it with you. You don’t have to bear it alone.”

You leaned into him again, resting your head against his chest as he reclined back against the pillows, pulling you closer. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, and he hummed a low, soothing melody.

“You’re safe with me,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll always protect you, even from yourself if I have to.”

The words warmed you, melting the cold edges of your sorrow. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax fully in his arms for the first time all day.

For a long while, the two of you stayed like that. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the corner, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucifer pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “You’ll never have to find out.”

His words held a promise, unshakable and eternal, as he tightened his arms around you. He would stay here with you, holding you through the storm in your heart, for as long as you needed—and longer still. For in the vastness of eternity, nothing mattered more to Lucifer than the love he had for you. And as you drifted off to sleep, safe in his embrace, you knew you would be okay.

[forever-rogue]

Hiiii beeeee

Saw you wanted some inspo, so from the sunshine prompts:  i knew there was a big softie under all that tough exterior.   ❜ with the sunshine being r and a grumpy Joel who’s very soft for her🥺✨

AN | Okay but this! Sunshine!Reader and Joel are two of my faves💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“If you keep scowling like that, it’s going to be permanent,” Joel shifted his gaze to you as you sat down across the table from him. He let out a small huff as you beamed at him, “oh wait - your face always looks like that. Pity, you’d be so handsome if you smiled.”

“Sunshine,” you could see that he was fighting back a smile as the corners of his mouth twitched up, “what’re you on about, coming in here like that, huh?”

You set your elbows on the tables and tented your fingers, resting your chin on them. Narrowing your eyes, you watched him closely for a moment before leaning towards him, “I’ve decided that you’re still handsome.”

He couldn’t hold back his laugh this time around as you sat back and crossed your arms over your chest in satisfaction, “happiness looks good on you, Joel Miller.”

“Well, sweetheart, how can I not be happy when I’ve got you buzzing around all the time?” he took a sip from his beer, long and slow as your entire face warmed up; he always had a way of making you shut right up, “you’re like a little bumblebee.”

“Ahh, I knew there was a softie under that tough old exterior,” you bounced right back and grabbed the bottle gently from his grasp and tipped some of the amber liquid into your mouth, “I’d almost wager that you like me.”

“That might be pushing it,” he threw his arm over the back of the booth, looking around the bustling cantina. He liked it here, liked this, liked you; it almost felt like life was normal. He supposed this was normal now…and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You finished off the bottle and pushed it to the side, drumming your fingers along the sticky tabletop. You hadn’t thought about exactly where this conversation was going - you’d just seen Joel and gotten excited at the prospect of seeing and bounced right on over, “you wanna get out of here?”

“Sure?” your voice was high and nervous and you sounded less sure than you’d intended on, “yeah - yes. What’d you have in mind?”

“C’mon,” Joel stood up and shrugged on his jacket, motioning for you to follow him. You wasted no time in following, not immune from the titters and stares from the other patrons. Jackson was big, all things considered, but people still had nothing better to do than gossip, “ignore them. They’ll talk either way. S’long as you don’t mind that is…”

“I don’t care,” you promised, falling into step with him and trekking into the cool evening air. The chill was more than you’d expected and a shiver ran down your spine immediately. You hadn’t said anything and decided to try and not let him see how cold you were so he wouldn’t suggest just going home. But Joel caught onto you immediately and took his catch off and draped it around your shoulders before you could protest. Butterflies fluttered your tummy at the kind gesture, “thank you.”

“Can’t have you freezing on me,” he said gruffly but you knew exactly how he meant it. 

“Much obliged,” you teased, “where is it that you’re taking me? This is how I’m going to get murdered? 

“You think I’d really make that obvious if I was going to take you out to get murdered?” he tutted in amusement as you followed him through the quiet and deserted streets of Jackson, “c’mon, at least fifty people saw us. It’d be like I was wanting to get caught.”

“I dunno, I’m not a murderer I wouldn’t know what I’d do,” you grinned as you tucked your hands into the pockets of his jackets, his smell all around you, warm and comforting, “but thank you for the reassurance. Besides, we both know you’d miss me if I was gone.”

He slowed for a moment and you could feel his arm brushing against yours as he looked at you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing you’d probably just be left such a bumbling mess, “yeah. I would miss you.”

You made a small sound of content before nudging his arm right back, “I’d miss you too.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he continued to lead you towards the outskirts of the Jackson. After walking a few more minutes you eventually made it up a small hill where the trees were cleared and you had a clear view of the starry night sky. You looked up in awe; you hadn’t bothered to look up in so long, that you hadn’t even realized just how beautiful the sky was. 

“Wow,” there was a giant smile on your face, and while you were always beautiful, Joel couldn’t help but think there was something even more magical than normal about you tonight, “it’s beautiful out here. The sky - it’s all so clear.”

“I found this spot a while ago,” he admitted as he took a seat on the ground and patted the space next to him, “it seems so obvious but it’s just out of the way enough that people don’t come here often. I like to come here to think sometimes.”

“Well thank you for sharing it with me,” you sat down next to him, keeping a small distance between your bodies with your knees just touching, “consider me honored.”

“Hmm,” the two of you sat in silence for a while; with anyone else you would have considered it awkward but with him it was just so…comfortable. That’s one of the many things that you liked about Joel - everything felt so easy with him, “you think awfully loud for someone so quiet.”

“I’m not…shut up,” you groaned without malice, hiding your face in your hands, “you are too perceptive sometimes, Joel Miller.”

“That’s just what I do,” he enjoyed getting you all flustered and caught off guard. People were usually much more honest that way, “you want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly after a few moments. 

“Don’t know what you’re thinking about or if you want to tell me?”

“I don’t know if I want to tell you,” you shifted slightly so you were facing him, allowing yourself a single peek at those pretty brown eyes of his. You found nothing but gentle curiosity peering back at you, “‘cause I’m scared that you won’t like what it is.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, sunshine,” he promised and you were almost positive that he was being honest, “I don't think even if you confessed that you were secretly a murderer I’d adore you any less.” 

Adore you. That made you feel so warm and fuzzy that your brain almost combusted. You opened and closed your mouth a few times while trying to decide exactly what to say and how to say it. 

“I, umm…I was just thinking about how much I like you…spending time with you,” you managed to choke out after a couple moments of quiet contemplation. You felt like a teenager with an awkward crush right then, rather than a grown woman. Joel’s mouth ticked up in a small smile as your face felt like it was on fire, “this is nice. And um, I guess I’m saying that I…like you…like you.”

“Mhmm,” he was loving this, and you could tell. At least he wasn’t yelling at you and didn’t seem disgusted, “so what you’re saying is that you have a crush on me?”

“I-I…it’s not a crush,” you squeaked out, which only caused him to laugh, “ugh, you’re so insufferable Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he grinned as you rolled your eyes, “c’mon sunshine, it’s fine to admit. It’s all out in the open.”

“Well, my feelings are out in open,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “you could share with the crowd or tell me to fuck off and leave. Or we could both pretend that none of this ever happened.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Well duh,” you answered, “it’s basically the law that you have to tell me now.”

“Sunshine, you’re not dumb,” he mirrored your position and leaned in, leaving only a small distance between your bodies. You could feel his warmth radiating onto you, “I wouldn’t give just anyone my jacket after all. I like you, like you too.”

“Oh gross,” you laughed softly, “that’s super gross. Feelings.”

“They’re the worst,” he agreed and you leaned in towards him, wanting, wanting, wanting.

“I think, Joel Miller, that you should express those feelings and kiss me,” your entire body was practically vibrating with excitement as you leaned and closed the little bit of remaining gap between the two of you. Joel effortlessly took over, his hand gently finding your face as he kissed you slowly, but deeply and with meaning. You weren’t sure what kind of feeling you had been expecting but it definitely wasn’t this. 

You’d had your fair share of first kisses but this was, by far, the best one yet. You didn’t want it to end, only parting from him reluctantly when you were both breathless. He pressed his forehead to your and laughed softly, “how was that?”

“Super gross,” you beamed at him, warm and soft, before stealing a few more soft and gentle kisses, “I love it.”

“You’re something else, sunshine.” his hand slid to your neck and he gently traced his fingers over your soft skin, “I definitely like you.”

“Yeah, I definitely kinda like you too,” you whispered, wrapping your fingers tenderly around his wrist, “was this your plan all along?”

“Hmm, not entirely,” he confessed, “I just want to get you out here to enjoy the view. You just happen to have no poker face, so I wanted to see if you’d finally say anything.”

“You could have said something too!” you shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek, “you’re just as bad.”

“I would have said something eventually but you beat me to it…”

“I was coerced into it!”

“It was voluntary,” he insisted, “and you know it.”

“Yeah well…fine,” you agreed, “just shut up and kiss me again.”

“Now that I can do, sunshine. With pleasure.”

[rebelliousstories]

His Girl

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,095

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When Luke speaks about his girl, people assume now that he is talking about Roxy. Although he does love his dog, he is not speaking about her.

“What are your plans for the weekend, Alvez?” Jennifer called out to her teammate who was packing up his effects.

“Just hanging out with my girl. Gonna take it easy the whole weekend.” He replied with a big smile on his face.

“Ah, date night with Roxy. Sounds like a dream.” She teased, beginning to pack up her own things.

“Yeah. Date night with the girl.” Luke reiterated; his mind wandered for a minute.

“Oh, big night I’m assuming?” JJ asked, stopping her movements for a bit.

“Not really. It’s just the first time we’ve been able to have a night to ourselves in a while.” He said, drumming his fingers against the desk.

“Who’s having a date night? What’s going on?” Garcia asked, coming around the corner with Rossi.

“Luke is apparently planning a big date night with Roxy.” JJ teased again, to which the man chuckled once more.

“Listen, tomorrow night. Dinner at my place. Spouses welcome for a family.” Rossi stated, looking towards everyone.

“Mind if I bring my girl?” Luke asked, whipping his phone out and beginning to type.

“As much as I love Roxy, we’re having a dog free dinner.” Rossi shot back, and Luke typed out a message before pocketing his phone.

“Understood. Text the details, but I’ve gotta get going before I get in trouble.” Luke bid them goodbye, and left the building. As soon as he got into his car, his phone rang.

“Hey, pretty lady. Yes, I’m leaving now. Yeah I can pick up some takeout. Whatcha want? Mexican? Alright, whatever my girl wants. Be home soon.” He hung up, and began to drive. All he could think about was getting home to his girl. The time getting the food was spent daydreaming about that evening. Arriving home, Luke poked his head around trying to find a sign of life.

“Baby? Anybody home?” He called out, looking around as he entered the apartment. The sound of nails clicking on the floor alerted him to his dog coming to see his owner.

“Roxy! Hey girl, where’s your mom, huh?” He asked, giving her lots of scratches around her face, ears, and chin. Footsteps followed the same path the Sheppard was just walking to the excited sound of a woman.

“Baby, you’re home!” Luke poked his head up and found just who he was looking for.

“Hey sweetheart.” He stood and opened his arms, to which she launched herself into happily. Luke picked her up by the backs of her thighs and walked them over to the counter to set down the food and his girlfriend. Pulling away just a little, he stood very close to her and shared a sweet kiss.

“I have missed you.” He whispered, ducking his head into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too baby. How was your day?” She asked, stroking a hand through his curls.

“Good. Just a paperwork day. Listen,” he pulled away a little bit more, “there’s a dinner tomorrow night. Family BAU night, spouses included. I want you to meet my team tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Yeah, let’s do it. You got dinner for tonight though, right?” She asked, patting his chest. Luke chuckled and pulled away, and tapped the styrofoam boxes next to them.

“Right here, my lady.” He replied, feeling a chuckle bubble to the surface as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“Well, let’s have dinner and I’ll show you how excited I am to meet your team finally.” She trailed a hand over his chest, and leaned into her lover.

“Ooo, I love the sound of that.” Luke responded, bringing her in for another kiss.

The next evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table. They were just waiting on Luke to arrive, and talking about it in the meantime.

“So do you think that Luke is gonna bring Roxy? Cause I’m totally okay with that, even if Rossi is not.” Garcia gushed with a glass of wine in hand.

“Who knows? I mean, that is the only female Luke has ever mentioned in his life.” Spencer piped up with his own glass of wine.

“I know, but like Rossi said no dogs and I kind of want a Roxy exception to that.” Garcia commented. Just then, a pick up truck pulled into the spacious driveway of David’s house. They waited for the man to walk through the house and come into the backyard. Everyone turned to face the door to the house from the backyard,and watched as a man and a woman walked through that door.

“Who is that?” Garcia asked with her voice squeaking.

“Hey everybody.” Luke chimed in, walking with a hand on the woman’s back.

“Welcome. Who is this lovely lady?” David walked up to the couple, and brought the man in for a hug. She provided her name while shaking hands with the agent.

“It’s so lovely to meet everyone finally.” She stated, scanning her eyes over the rest of agents around the tables.

“Well, Bella, we are oh so excited to meet you. Come and sit.” Rossi held out his arm, looped hers through it, and led her over to the table. Luke chuckled as he shook his head and walked over to the table as well. Making her rounds of introductions, she learned each one of the other agents names while giving them her own. Luke pulled out her seat and made sure she was settled before moving on to getting into his own.

“So you’re with Alvez? I mean, how does he land someone like you?” Penelope asked, absolutely floored by the woman before her. She laughed as she held hands with her boyfriend underneath the table.

“Yes, we’re together. Um, well we met in a dog friendly bookstore. It had a little coffee shop attached and that’s where Roxy came up to me. She introduced me to her dad, and that was that.” She explained, looking over at her lover with a gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, that is straight out of a romance novel.” Tara piped in with, sipping her wine.

“It kind of was. I was shocked to find my dream girl in the middle of Barks and Books. But here we are.” Luke proclaimed, gazing right back at his girlfriend. Rossi raised his glass, leading the whole team in a toast.

“To the happy couple we did not know was here the whole time.” Glasses clinked, and cheers were started all around the table. Sips were taken, and Luke was glad that his team could finally meet his girl.

[sunflowersonatas]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 4

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

hello hello again!! this is part 4 (!!) of my james potter fake dating series. oh my wordddd do these two have it bad 🥹 i'm having sooooo much fun writing this, it's mostly done by now i'm just refining little bits and pieces. i'm also aware i can use a lot of the same words again so i apologize for that. anyways i hope you enjoy!!! xoxo sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 2012

prev in series:

1: This Is Going to Be a Problem

2: That Wasn't a No

3: Fake It 'Til You Make It

4: That’s New

— 1 —

I should have known this would happen.

A week—or maybe two—has passed, and somehow, this strange, impossible arrangement has settled into something almost routine. People still notice. They still watch. But the whispers have changed. Less sharp, less scandalized. Now, they sound more like admiration, laced with something close to adoration.

"They’re actually kind of cute." "Did you see how he looked at her yesterday?" "Merlin, I think I believe it."

I don’t scan the room like I used to, searching for stray glances or hushed gossip. My eyes naturally glide to the Gryffindor table, the usual spot where four boys are chatting raucously. And, unable to focus on anything else, I focus on James.

He’s already there, draped across his usual spot like he owns the very air around him, a laugh spilling from his lips at something Sirius just said. There’s a looseness to him, a careless sprawl that makes my fingers twitch with irritation. Because of course he isn’t fazed. He was built for this—the way people track his every movement, drawn in without even meaning to be. He soaks it up like it’s his birthright, as if the entire room is simply bending to accommodate him, orbiting around his gravity.

Meanwhile, I’m fighting to keep planting one foot in front of the other.

And yet, as if feeling my eyes on him, James turns—and the second he sees me, his entire demeanor shifts.

The dazzling grin stretches wider. His eyes brighten in delight, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. And then, because he’s insufferable, he lifts his hand in greeting—fingers wiggling, smirk widening.

“Morning, baby!”

It’s loud enough for people to hear.

I swear I hear someone gasp.

Alice, walking beside me, chokes back a laugh. Jade just mutters, “Unbelievable.”

But then I spot Simon, sitting just a few tables away. His posture is stiff, his hands clenching his goblet a little too tightly. He’s looking at me. Or rather—at James.

And suddenly, I don’t care anymore.

Before I can think better of it, I move toward James, and the smile on my face doesn’t feel so forced.

— 2 —

I sit down, and James immediately moves closer. He doesn’t hesitate. He throws an arm over my shoulders, the weight of it easy, natural, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

I don’t know why that makes my stomach flip.

I expect him to say something smug, something loud and theatrical to make the whispers grow, but instead—he lowers his voice.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

I freeze for half a second—just long enough for him to notice.

It’s different. The teasing intonation is still there, but his timbre is quieter, softer, meant just for me. Not for the show, not for the audience. Just for me.

I recover quickly, reaching for my goblet. “I almost didn’t.”

James hums, fingers drumming idly against my shoulder. He glances at Lily—just for a moment, just long enough to see if she’s looking. I should feel triumphant. The plan is working. But the moment stretches too long, his gaze lingering, and something distasteful coils in my stomach when I glance at Lily, too.

He’s still looking at her, but when he speaks, he’s only talking to me.

“That would’ve been a shame.”

I don’t respond immediately. I can’t.

Because he leans in, just slightly, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he finishes—"I would’ve missed you."

I don’t stiffen. I don’t freeze. Instead, I react exactly the way I’m supposed to—like this is normal, like we do this all the time. A slow, easy smile tugs at my lips, and I let out a breathy little laugh, tipping my head just enough to brush against his.

"Good thing I showed up, then," I murmur, voice smooth, effortless, the perfect counter to his. Commitment to the bit.

It’s a performance, it has to be. But it’s too easy, too natural, the kind of rhythm we shouldn’t have mastered so quickly. It doesn’t feel like a role. It feels real. And judging by the way James’ fingers falter slightly against my shoulder, he feels it too.

Across the table, Sirius’ smirk falters.

"Well," he says, tilting his head, too perceptive for my liking. "That’s new."

James leans back, grinning again, too quick, too easy. “Nothing new about it, mate. Just talking to my girl.”

His girl.

I force a laugh, I force myself to look away, to refocus. But the damage is already done.

Because for the first time, Simon isn’t even in my mind, and James’ flirting feels like it’s not just part of the plan.

And worst of all—for the first time, I think he felt it too.

— 3 —

The corridors are crowded between classes, students weaving between one another, voices overlapping as they rush to their next destinations. I should be doing the same—moving, blending in, not lingering long enough to be noticed.

But then, a body steps into my path, not unlike the feeling when I first collided with James. Only looking up, I see Simon.

I halt, too fast, too obvious.

He smiles, but it’s different. Not amused. Not easy. Just… considering.

“Didn’t think he was your type,” he says slowly.

It takes me a second too long to respond. I blink, my brain working to catch up. "What?"

Simon gestures vaguely, but I already know what he means. James.

I could laugh it off, make some snarky comment, dismiss the way Simon is watching me like he’s actually trying to figure something out.

Instead, my fingers tighten around my books.

"I didn’t think you cared," I reply coolly.

Simon huffs out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly. "I don’t."

Liar.

But before I can push, before I can say anything else, a familiar voice cuts in.

"Alright, sweetheart?"

And just like that, James is there. Not from around the corner. Not catching up. Just… there. Like he knew I’d be standing here, like this is just another part of the routine.

Except it isn’t. We never made walking to class together a rule. And yet—here he is, standing beside me, slipping into the moment effortlessly, like he was always meant to be there.

His arm doesn’t come around my shoulders this time, but his presence is heavy enough to feel. His gaze flickers to Simon, just for a second, assessing.

Simon shifts, just slightly. "We were just talking."

James smiles, too tight, too sharp. "Yeah? About what?"

Simon doesn’t answer, because he knows.

James knows too. His presence is imposing—he knows he’s interrupting, I know it, and Simon definitely knows it. It’s strangely… protective.

I exhale slowly, turning my main attention to James. "Nothing important."

James turns to me then, ignoring Simon entirely, his eyes softening just slightly. "Walk you to class?"

My heart stumbles.

It’s not in the rules. It’s not for an audience. It’s just… him. Asking, sweetly and kindly. I should overthink it. I should question it.

But instead, I only nod, unaware that I’m smiling.

And just like that, I walk away with him.

— 4 —

The library is quiet at this hour.

It’s always quiet, but now it’s the kind of silence that settles into your bones, the kind that makes every movement feel heavier, every breath feel louder than it should. The lanterns flicker, casting long, stretching shadows across the towering shelves. The whole place smells like fresh bundles of parchment and half-empty pots of ink, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.

Except… I can’t. Not really. Not when I know exactly why I’m here.

I told myself I was coming to study. To clear my head. To force myself back into something normal after a day that has been anything but. I told myself it had nothing to do with him. That it wasn’t about the way my pulse jumped when he showed up beside me earlier, that I wasn’t still thinking about the way Simon looked at us, or the way I had felt when I chose to walk away with James instead.

But lying to myself is getting harder.

The chair across from me scrapes against the floor. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

James doesn’t belong in the library at this hour—or any hour, really. The last time I saw him with a book in front of him, he was using it as a makeshift pillow. But I feel him settle into the chair, his presence too tangible, too heavy, and just like that, the air shifts.

I should ask him why he’s here. I should question it, tease him, brush it off. But I don’t.

Instead, I just turn the page in front of me and keep my voice steady, even. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you here voluntarily.”

James doesn’t respond right away. I can feel him watching me, the weight of it pressing against my skin, penetrating into all my nerves as if they’re exposed. Then, finally— “I was looking for you.”

I falter.

It’s not what I expected. Not the easy banter, not the teasing. It’s quieter. Too honest.

I turn the page again, even though I haven’t actually read a single word. “Why?”

James leans back slightly, like he’s considering it. “Not sure.”

I finally glance up, and that’s a mistake.

Because the way he’s looking at me—it’s different.

Not smug, not amused, not like he’s trying to prove a point. It’s like he’s trying to figure something out, like he’s looking for an answer in my face that I don’t even have yet. He steps closer, approaching my seat slowly.

There’s a pull—deep, insistent, like gravity shifting just for him.

“You’re staring,” I say lightly, tilting my head. I mean it to be teasing, something to break the tension that’s building too fast, too thick. But my voice isn’t as steady as I want it to be.

James doesn’t look away. “So are you.”

I don’t have a response to that.

Silence stretches between us, thick and humming. The lanterns flicker again, casting shadows that move over the sharp angles of his face, and Merlin, I should say something. I should look away.

But I don’t.

Because he’s leaning in. Not much. Just enough.

Just enough that I can feel the space between us getting smaller, smaller, smaller. Just enough that I can see the flicker of something hesitant in his expression, something unsure, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll stop him.

I should.

I should pull away, laugh it off, remind him of what this is supposed to be. But his eyes drop to my mouth and I forget how to breathe.

A heartbeat passes. Two. The air is thick, crackling, waiting.

I blink, snap back to reality, shift slightly in my seat like I just remembered where we are, like I just remembered what we’re doing. My chin drops, I pull back.

James exhales, the spell breaking, the moment slipping through my fingers before I can fully grasp what it was.

He leans back, just enough to make it seem like it never happened at all.

And then—the smile is back. The effortless, easy, practiced one. The one that puts the distance back between us.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says, voice low, amused. “You almost looked like you wanted to kiss me. ‘S against the rules, y’know.”

So were feelings.

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head, forcing myself to roll my eyes even though my heart is still pounding against my ribs. “In your dreams, Potter.”

His teeth show. “Every night.”

I shove my book at him, because it’s the only thing I can think to do. He laughs, catching it easily, the moment slipping into something safer, something familiar.

Tomorrow, we’ll pretend this didn’t happen. Tomorrow, I’ll tell myself it was nothing.

But right now, I can still feel the ghost of his breath on my lips.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

Next in series: 5: Too Good To Be Fake

series page linked HERE