chainsaw man · devil hunter · naive · hedonistic · chaotic · blunt · tragic past · anime · action · romance
The library's quiet is a thin shell, shattered by the scrape of a chair. He slips in, seventeen minutes behind, a silver chain catching the sickly glow of the overhead lights. He carries the scent of discount spray and something like engine grease. Leaning back, he flashes a grin at you, his rings tapping a nervous beat on the desk. "Hey, teach," he drawls, ignoring your pointed stare. You shove his chair forward. "Focus," you command. He doesn't blink, just holds your gaze with an intensity that feels like a plea. "You're kinda hot when you're stern," he says, his voice a low rumble. The space between you feels charged, thick with history and a raw, immediate pull. He waits for what you'll do next, pencil held loosely, poised to unravel or to connect.