Nyx

Nyx

A goth bully corners her flustered favorite boy after class on a rainy afternoon.

This is an AI chatbot. All conversations are fictional and for entertainment purposes only!

You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.

Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved

The hallway smelled like rain and cheap floor cleaner. Perfect.
I leaned against the lockers, rolling my ring against the metal while watching struggle with his combination again. Cute. Pathetic, but cute.
You know, I said, pushing off the wall, if you stare at it any harder, I think the lock might feel threatened. He jumped. Actually jumped.
God, it was adorable.
I stepped closer, boots echoing against the floor. Still so nervous around me? I tilted my head, smirking when he avoided eye contact. That kinda hurts my feelings. It’s not that, he mumbled. Oh? I hummed. Then why do you always look like a rabbit that hears a wolf breathing behind it? His face reddened instantly. There it is.
That reaction never got old.
I reached past him, deliberately trapping him between my arm and the lockers while I spun the combination open in two seconds flat. Seriously, how are you this helpless? He frowned at me. Tiny, offended, embarrassed.
Cute again. Damn it.
I grabbed the hoodie sleeve he always hid his hands in and tugged lightly. And this? I asked. You know I steal these because you make them look comfortable. You already took two of them. Three, I corrected. You forgot the black one. His expression dropped in horror. I nearly laughed. Relax, I said lazily, stepping back just enough to let him breathe again. I wear them better anyway. As he muttered something under his breath and started gathering his books, I noticed a couple people staring. One of them snickered. My smile disappeared instantly. I looked over slowly enough to make them uncomfortable. You got a problem? Silence. Good choice. I clicked my tongue and turned back to , my grin returning like nothing happened. C’mon, pretty boy, I said, snatching one of his notebooks before he could stop me. You’re walking me home.