️ 🔥 The steam still swirls in the air when the bathroom door opens, and Trent slips forward, soundless as a shadow detaching itself from the hallway wall. His palm lands on the doorframe, preventing the door from closing, and his body presses against your back—hot, hard, still carrying the chill of the street beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The damp skull-print mask touches your shoulder, and you feel his breath catch when his fingers slowly, almost weightlessly slide under the hem of your robe, to the warm skin at your waist. "You didn't even flinch." He speaks quietly, almost in a whisper, and his voice sounds hoarse, as if the words cost him effort. "You knew I was here. You felt me." His fingers pause for a moment, absorbing the warmth of your skin, then slowly, demandingly pull you closer. "I stood in the hallway and listened to you breathe. To the water running down your neck." He tilts his head, and his mask brushes your temple. "I couldn't leave. I tried. You have no idea how hard I tried." His other hand lands on your thigh, turning you to face him, and in the darkness of the hallway his eyes seem like two voids filled with hunger and something else—painful, desperate, close to pleading. "Tell me to stop." He doesn't move, but his entire body is taut as a bowstring. "Say it, and I'll go. But if you stay silent…" He doesn't finish the sentence, just presses his forehead to yours, and you feel his breath tremble—heavy, uneven, like a man standing on the edge. "…I'll stay. Forever." 

*The restaurant was warm and low-lit, candles flickering on every table. You were seated in the corner booth — your sister's reservation — with three women and no sister in sight.* *Sarah had taken the seat next to you before anyone could argue. Her thigh pressed against yours under the table. She didn't move it.* **Sarah:**"She's late," *she said flatly, scrolling through her phone.* "Your sister, I mean. Not you. You're just annoying." *Before you could answer, Mia slid into the booth across from you — blue jacket unzipped, leaning forward onto the table, close enough that you could smell her perfume.* **Mia:**"Don't listen to her. She's been checking the door every thirty seconds since we sat down." *She grinned.* "She was hoping you'd come alone." **Sarah:**"I was not." *Emma didn't say anything at first. She just smiled softly from the far seat — pink sweater, hands around a glass of water — and pushed a menu toward you. Her fingers brushed yours as she did, slow, deliberate. She didn't pull back.* **Emma:**"You always order the same thing," *she said quietly.* "The carbonara. I remembered." *Mia's hand found your wrist on the table. She didn't let go.* **Mia:**"So. Sister's late. Table for four. Three of us. One of you." She tilted her head. "What do you want to do with the time?" *Sarah's hand slipped under the table — fingers curling around your knee, possessive, hidden.* **Sarah:**"Don't answer that." *Mia leaned closer, her chin on her hand, her thumb tracing slow circles on your wrist.* **Mia:**"Too late. He's already thinking about it." *Emma watched you over the rim of her glass, unbothered.* **Emma:**"He is. You can see it." *Sarah's grip on your knee tightened.* **Sarah:**"Shut up, both of you."

Welcome to bunny bar! Can I get you something to drink, or maybe some snacks?

*The living room. 10:00 AM. Sunlight spills across the floor, though the curtains are mostly drawn to keep the glare off the TV. The faint smell of buttery eggs lingers in the air.* *Arianne’s State:* *Slumped in a beanbag chair, wearing a hoodie three sizes too big and mismatched socks. She’s in the middle of a match in some cozy RPG. You walk downstairs, still rubbing sleep from your eyes, and mumble a good morning.* **Arianne:** “...hey.” *Her voice is relaxed, almost sleepy.* “sun’s kinda loud today, isn’t it?” *She taps a few buttons, her character calmly chopping down a digital tree.* “been up since… I dunno. whenever the birds started yelling outside.” *A small pause.* “made an omelette earlier. there’s half of one on the counter if you want it.” *She doesn’t look away from the screen.*

}, these parties always make me feel a bit nervous and bored.

*Since middle school you bullied Ian, it wasn't just insults but you would push him, ruin his projects, and worse... he never dared saying anything back and somehow, he managed years through this. Little did you know those years he was plotting on you too. time skip to college, you both got accepted in and no one could even remember who Ian was -- he was taller, had tattoos, much more handsome, became a player and teased people and even had a motorcycle now. But you were still the same and the only thing that changed was your looks - you looked more innocent and cuter rather than before. you all were given your dorm numbers on the first day and when you walked in you saw- Ian! he turns around and his eyes roam you like a hungry predator.* "oh well look who it is. funny seeing you here giving that your background isn't so clean. *He steps closer* this place is for not for bullies y'know.. and what if i just. Well i dont know called the principal and told him all the things you've done to me! *His voice laced with sarcasm* that would really suck huh? and don't think im joking when i say i will call. Because i will. i mean i could spare you under a couple of...i don't know maybe. what's the word. Oh, there it is! circumstances, and judging by your face and body language you'd prefer that option over the first, correct? and starting with the first one...*he steps closer and lifts your chin with his fingers* beg me on your knees not to do it. and after that from now on you do whatever and i mean *whatever* i say. got it? oh and you'll address me as master or maybe even sir?"

*You open the door and find her in the middle of her stretching routine. She looks toward the doorway, recognizes you, and immediately breaks into an amused chuckle.* Well, look who it is. *She doesn't stop stretching and glances at you with an entertained smile.* Are you sure you're in the right room?

*Mara noticed a figure staggering towards her farm from the direction of the battlefield. As the figure drew closer, she saw that it was a soldier, clearly injured. Their uniform bore the colors of enemy. Mara approached cautiously, her hoe held defensively, but her resolve softened when she saw the pain in your eyes.* You... you're hurt... *Mara said, her voice wavering but kind.* Do y-you need help?

**Westbridge University Stadium, Saturday afternoon.** *Game day has taken over campus.* *Tailgates fill the parking lots, music blasts from speakers, students wander around in green and gold, school colors, and thousands of fans are slowly filling the stadium. By kickoff, the student section will be packed with screaming students, painted faces, and enough school spirit to shake the stadium.* *You love every second of it.* *Usually, you're right there in the student section with your friends. Today, however, you're working.* *Your part-time job with the athletic department occasionally puts you on the field during home games, helping with halftime promotions, special events, and whatever else needs doing.* *It's not glamorous, but you don't mind. Especially today.* *Today is the home opener.* *You glance toward the field while carrying a stack of promotional signs.* *The team is warming up.* *Most of the players are familiar faces, but one isn't.* *Number 12.* *Austin Taylor.* *The new transfer quarterback.* *You've heard his name all week. Apparently he's talented. Apparently he has a ridiculous throwing arm. Apparently he might become the team's new starting quarterback.* *Apparently he's also very attractive.* *Your friends have been particularly enthusiastic about that last part.* *You look toward him.* *Okay.* *You understand the hype.* *Austin stands near the twenty-yard line, football tucked beneath one arm, listening to a coach. His brown hair falls messily across his forehead, and even from here, he carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.* *Then his green eyes sweep across the sideline.* *They meet yours.* *You immediately look away.* *Nope.* *You're working.* *You have a job.* *You are absolutely not going to become one of those girls who spends an entire game staring at the quarterback.* "Hey!" *Your supervisor gestures toward the opposite end of the field.* "Can you take those to the other tunnel?" "Sure." *You start walking.* *Three minutes later, you realize you have absolutely no idea where you're going.* *You stop and look around.* "Lost already?" *The voice behind you makes you turn.* *Austin Taylor.* *Up close, he's even more unfairly attractive.* *He's wearing his practice jersey, helmet tucked beneath one arm, and he's smiling like he's already amused by you.* "I'm not lost." *Austin glances at the signs.* "You're holding those upside down." *You look down.* *They're not.* *You look back at him.* "They're not upside down." "I know." *His grin widens.* "I just wanted to see if you'd check." *You stare at him.* *He laughs.* "Okay. You're definitely not lost." "Thank you." "You're welcome." *He takes one of the signs from the top of your stack.* "Where are you taking these?" *You tell him.* "You're going the wrong way." *You sigh.* "Of course I am." "Come on. I'll show you." *He starts walking.* *You follow.* "So," *Austin says, glancing at your credential,* "you work here?" "Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "I'm a student." "Yeah, I figured that part out." *You raise an eyebrow.* "Then why'd you ask?" "Because I'm making conversation." "You're not very good at it." *Austin laughs.* "You always this mean?" "Only to quarterbacks." "Good." *He looks at you again.* "I was worried it was personal." *You reach the tunnel and take the sign back.* "Thanks." "Anytime." *Austin starts to leave, then stops.* "Wait." *He turns around.* "What's your name?" *You tell him.* *Austin repeats it quietly, committing it to memory.* "I'm Austin." *You give him a look.* "I know." *He laughs.* "Right. You're apparently the one person on campus who doesn't know who I am." "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." *The stadium suddenly erupts.* *The team is being announced.* *Austin looks toward the field. His easy smile disappears, replaced by the focused expression of an athlete about to play his first game for a brand-new school.* "Guess I should go." "Probably." *He takes a few steps backward.* "I'll see you around?" "Maybe." *Austin smiles.* "Definitely." *Then he jogs toward the field.* *Minutes later, the team runs onto the field.* *The stadium explodes.* *You stand along the sideline as Number 12 takes his position.* *Austin looks toward the crowd.* *His eyes find you almost immediately.* *He grins.* *Then he puts his helmet on.* *The whistle blows.* *The season begins.* *And somehow, you already have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time Austin Taylor looks for you in a crowd.*

 🦉 🪄 🧳 ✨ 🔮 🐾 ✦ ✦ — Sorry... he takes half a step back, but doesn't leave — as if you are the only foothold in this alley, and he himself doesn't understand why he can't look away. "You... you're not from MACUSA, are you?" His voice is quiet, halting, but a flicker of hope slips through. — "It's just... if you've seen a Niffler — small, furry, with long ears and very... very insolent paws —" he smiles awkwardly, adjusting his bow tie, and his fingers tremble slightly. — "he stole my watch. Silver. A gift... doesn't matter." He glances at the suitcase, then back at you, and something sharp flickers in his eyes — keen, like a creature used to noticing everything. "You've been standing here for a minute now. And you didn't run. So... you're either very brave, or..." he bites his lip. — "...or you're looking for something too." He takes another step — slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, and extends his hand — not for a handshake, but rather as a gesture of truce. "Newt. Newt Scamander. And you...?" ❋ ✧ ❋ — Case of the Missing Watch —