#I don’t expect something like this to be understandable

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Might we have a nibble of undesignated reader?

🦥

How about a whole… cookie? 🍪

Omegaverse Masterlist

It’s not the first time you’ve heard them talk.

The barracks aren’t exactly known for their privacy. Voices carry through the thin walls, whispers slipping through cracks like smoke, curling into places they don’t belong. You’ve learned to ignore it for the most part, tuning out the idle gossip, the careless words thrown around by people who don’t know you, don’t understand you.

But tonight, the words stick.

“They don’t even have a scent, man. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, but they’re still sharp as hell in the field. Maybe they were supposed to be a Beta?”

“Nah, bet they were meant to be an Alpha, but something went wrong.”

“Or maybe an Omega? That’d be even worse- imagine being designed for pack life and ending up like that.”

Laughter follows, sharp and cruel, and you walk away before you hear anything else.

You don’t go to your room. You don’t go to the common area or the mess, or the nest. You don’t go anywhere someone might find you.

Instead, you find yourself outside, away from the hum of voices and the weight of constant, curious stares. The night air is cool against your skin, crisp and biting, the smell of damp earth grounding you in a way nothing else can.

You breathe in deep- and it doesn’t stick the way it should.

What would you have been, if you weren’t… this?

If something hadn’t gone wrong?

Would you have been an Alpha, all quiet dominance and steady control? Would your voice have carried weight, your presence something that demanded obedience without needing to ask? Would you have had instincts that made sense, a drive to protect, a need to claim?

Or an Omega? Soft, warm, instinctively attuned to the emotions of those around you? Would you have been able to scent your pack, comfort them with nothing but your presence? Would you have been wanted in a way that didn’t feel conditional, based on how useful you could be?

Or a Beta- level-headed, unaffected, fitting neatly into the gaps between extremes? Would it have been easier that way, to exist without feeling like something is missing?

Awful generalizations, you know. But at the same time- you wouldn’t know. You’d never know, bcause you’re none of them.

You’re nothing.

Faulty.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t bother turning around to see who it might be.

John doesn’t say anything at first, either. Just stands beside you, looking out into the dark, hands tucked into his pockets. The silence stretches, long and heavy, before he finally speaks.

“Got something on your mind?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you swallow hard, staring at the horizon like it might hold the answers you’ve never found.

“…What do you think I would’ve been, Cap?”

John doesn’t ask what you mean. He understands, because of course he does. He hums, tilting his head in thought.

“Dunno,” he admits eventually, lighting a cigar. “Never thought about it.”

You huff a quiet, bitter laugh. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

You finally turn to look at him, searching his face for something- pity, understanding, a lie wrapped in kindness. They’ve accepted you into their lives and their nest- but how much of it is real, and how much of is just taking pity on a walking, talking fault?

But there’s none of that. Just certainty, his eyes peering at you with no hesitation.

“You are what you are, love,” he says simply, taking a drag of the burning cigar. “And that’s enough.”

A lump forms in your throat, thick and tight. “It’s not, though.”

“For them? Maybe not.” He exhales through his nose, gaze steady. “For us? It always has been.”

The words land heavier than you expect.

Because for all that you’ve questioned yourself, for all the times you’ve wondered if you were missing some crucial piece, they never have. You are theirs, not because of a designation, not because of instinct or scent or pity.

Just because you are.

John claps a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before turning back toward the building.

“Come inside,” he says. “We’re waiting for you. Simon’s kept a plate of food- actual food, not mess slop- for you.”

And maybe- just maybe- that’s enough.

[majoryeager104]

Totally Accurate Katsuki Bakugo Headcanons

I do one of these for every character I write frequently, so consider this his initiation into my writing schedule

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader + generally random hcs

Warnings: language, but that’s to be expected with Katsuki

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

His hygiene is immaculate

everything about him is tbh

except his personality haaaaaa-

but yeah, he has a skincare routine, hair masks, he’s on it

why do you think he goes to sleep so early? He’s looksmaxxing

oh

but don’t ask him about any of this

dont bring up hygiene at all

he will yell at you

“what do I stink or somethin’??”

and if not that, then its

“Yeah I take care of myself, idiot. you got a problem with that?”

he’s so defensive 😔

so tsundere

but once ur dating then his favorite pastime is falling asleep with his head in your lap

another random thought I had with my brain (crazy)

is that he lets you make tiny braids in his hair

And keeps them in

like hiccup in httyd with the random braids here and there that are absolutely from Astrid

Well these are from you

also

back onto hygiene but he gives you skincare tips and product recommendations

and like

lowk

he’s always right

if you’ve got a problem w ur skin and he gives a recommendation

try it

bc he’s always right

its almost as if he’s spent hours reading about this stuff online late at night

crazy

mooooving on

get it? Mooooo?

Bc this man loves animals

secretly ofc don’t tell nobody

But he loves cows for some reason

understandable but random

like if he’s on his phone late at night he’s not texting other ppl

hes looking at highland cows frolicking in a field

and if you ask why?

”bc fuck you that’s why”

too defensive

but after you start dating he’s absolutely letting you watch with him

its so random but I know for a fact he loves highland cows

its just… it just feels right

but maybe im projecting

so ill move on

his most psychopath behavior

is that when he stubs his toe on something

Hes got like

no reaction

not even a single curse word

hes always yelling but the one time it’s excusable and he literally does not care

its kind of unsettling

god I hate him

i want to throw him off the side of a building and drop an anvil after him

pookie bear <3

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

[writeriguess]

Can you write a Dabi x female reader, where reader is Katsuki's sister and in secret relationship with Dabi?? Reader is not a prohero and doesn't have any quirks. Katsuki is sssssuper protective of her and Dabi just lives for it. He throws hints about her and their relationship while fighting Katsuki, but he doesn't catch up, he thinks it's just some nonsense a crazy person would say. This is probs stupid but I'm just... crazy about Katsuki's sister reader x Dabi trope and I wish there was more of it 😩

author's note: Oh I love this scenario and I loved writing this fic <3

Burned in Secret

You’ve spent your whole life in the shadow of someone explosive—your brother, Katsuki Bakugo. It was never easy being the quirkless sibling of a pro-hero, especially not when that hero was the loudest, most aggressive, and most protective person you knew. He had a way of acting like the world was out to get you, like you were made of glass and would shatter if he wasn’t watching. You loved him for it, but at the same time, he didn’t understand that you weren’t some delicate little thing. You could handle yourself.

And, well… you handled yourself right into the arms of the last person Katsuki would ever approve of.

Dabi.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened. Maybe it was because, in some ways, he was everything your brother wasn’t. Katsuki was all fire and noise; Dabi was quiet destruction. Where Katsuki burned hot and bright, Dabi burned slow and deep, dangerous in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. You met him through circumstances that should’ve never led to romance—he was a villain, after all. But something about his smirks, the way he looked at you like you were something interesting, something real, had you falling before you even realized it. And despite his nonchalant attitude toward most things, you found that he actually cared in his own twisted way.

The relationship was a secret, of course. If Katsuki ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.

Which is exactly why Dabi loved to drop hints.

The battlefield was in ruins, buildings crumbling, smoke filling the air. Katsuki stood in the middle of it all, blood trickling down his forehead, hands still crackling with residual explosions. He was glaring at the man standing across from him, the one whose stitched grin hadn’t wavered once throughout the fight.

“You just don’t shut up, do you?” Katsuki snarled, flexing his fingers like he was resisting the urge to blast him into oblivion.

Dabi smirked. “What can I say? You’re fun to mess with.” He rolled his shoulders, barely fazed by the heat in the air. “Though I gotta admit, you’re a little denser than I expected.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dabi let out a low chuckle, tilting his head just enough to let his bangs fall into his eyes. “Just thinking about how protective you are. Cute, really.”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened. “Shut the hell up.”

“You act like you can keep everything precious to you locked up tight, but people have secrets, Dynamight.” Dabi’s tongue flicked out over his lower lip, dry and cracked. “People do things in the dark they’d never do in the light. Even the ones closest to you.”

Katsuki barely stopped himself from lunging. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Dabi just grinned, the kind of grin that set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. “Nothing. Just thinking about how funny it’d be if someone close to you was keeping a little something from you. Something big.” He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers as if in thought. “Like, I don’t know… a secret relationship?”

Katsuki froze for half a second before shaking his head violently. “You really are a lunatic. What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Dabi just shrugged. “Just a thought.”

With a snarl, Katsuki launched himself forward, palm sparking. Dabi dodged effortlessly, laughing under his breath as if this was all a game to him. In some ways, it was.

Because he knew the truth.

He knew that the moment this fight was over, he’d find you waiting for him in the shadows, worried and scolding him for teasing your brother. He’d get to hear your voice, feel your hands fussing over his burns even though he told you not to bother. He’d get to be with you, touch you, kiss you. And your precious big brother? The one who thought he had everything under control? He had no idea.

And Dabi lived for it.

Later that night, when you met him in your usual spot, you smacked him lightly on the arm. “You were messing with him again, weren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Maybe.”

“You’re going to slip up one day,” you huffed, though your hands still rested against his chest. “And he’s going to actually kill you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

You sighed against his mouth, knowing this was just who he was. Knowing that, despite everything, you wouldn’t change him for the world.

And knowing that when Katsuki finally found out, all hell was going to break loose.

[humanjarvis]

my happy is your happy

synopsis: luke thinks sylus should make more friends. but does he really need them?

tags: fluff, kinda comfort?, unintentional family dynamics (idk what came over me i didn’t expect that to happen), potential unrealistic use of sylus’s evol bc what does “energy manipulation” even mean, reader is protective of sylus, sylus overhears, asterisks to denote pov shifts bc i didn't want to use dividers pairing: sylus x reader word count: 774

a/n: it’s been like 2 days of people calling sylus a friendless loser on twitter and that’s fine but IIIII don’t think ur a loser, sylus. wrote this on a whim in the last 2 hours, questionably proofread

“Have you ever noticed that Boss doesn’t have any friends?” Luke’s youthful voice rings out, putting a swift end to your peaceful night of reading on the couch. 

Folding your half-finished book over your lap, you look up at his masked face, raising an eyebrow. “He has you.” 

Luke scoffs. “I don’t count, obviously.”

“He has Kieran.”

“We’re practically the same person. Try again,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

“…He has Mephisto,” you offer, an innocent grin on your face. 

He doesn’t even dignify that one with a response. 

“He's still in his 20s, for God’s sake! Don’t you think he should go out more? Party a little, meet some new people?” Luke asks, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Not if he doesn’t think he needs to,” you say simply. 

*** 

Sylus had just stepped out of the shower when he overheard your tired voice from the living room. Not if I don’t think I need to…what? he ponders, mulling over the possibilities. Increase their monthly allowance? Install lasers into Mephisto’s eyes? Entrust Onychinus to the twins in my will?

“But no friends?” Luke asks dramatically, snapping Sylus out of his thoughts. “None? Not even one?”

Oh, Sylus thinks. That. 

Realizing you were defending his…comfortable lifestyle, Sylus feels something warm and tight and slightly wistful squeeze in his chest. Smiling to himself, he shrouds his body in the dark wisps of his Evol and moves closer, watching the rest of your conversation with interest. 

*** 

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair. “Luke, I think you’re overthinking this. Not everyone wants to go out and party and meet people. What about Sylus makes you think he wants to go out and party and meet people? You put him in a room full of cheap club music and cheaper beer, and he’s going to evaporate into thin air. Or cause a mass casualty incident,” you say, only to be met with silence. 

Sighing, you start again. “Look, I understand that you care about him and want to make sure he’s happy—I do too—but Sylus’s happy isn’t Luke’s happy. It isn’t Kieran’s happy, or Mephisto’s happy, or even my happy. It’s his. He’s the only one who can decide what makes him happy, and he’s the only one who can decide if he is or not.”

When Luke’s mask droops—a telltale sign of a pout appearing—you switch tactics. “And maybe it’s not that he doesn’t have friends. Maybe you guys are just enough for him—did you ever think about that?” 

At this, the beak of his mask perks back up, and you know you’ve got him. 

“You think we’re…enough for him?” he asks, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You nod. 

And then you try to ignore the way his hands twitch in excitement, fighting with all you have to keep your giggle from surfacing. 

“That’s…” he clears his throat. “You know what? You’re right, Y/N, my bad. You’re really smart, you know,” Luke responds gruffly, an incriminating wobble in his voice. 

Smiling, you stand up to pat his hooded head. “I know.” 

“Well,” he starts, a new vigor in his steps as he heads toward the door. “I’m gonna go find Kieran. We just got this huge shipment of explosives that w—”

“Nope!” you interrupt. “You’re not getting me in trouble again. The less I know, the better.”

Shrugging, Luke disappears into the hallway, and you shake your head fondly. 

“What a heartwarming conversation,” a deep voice rings out. 

Jumping from shock, you whip your head around. “Sylus?!” you whisper-yell. “How long have you been there?!”

Emerging from the shadows of the bedroom behind you, Sylus strolls toward you, a soft smirk on his face. 

“Just long enough to hear your passionate defense of me,” he quips, wrapping an arm around your waist. “How much is your lawyer fee?”

Embarrassed, you swat his chest, bowing your head slightly. “I know he meant well, but I just…don’t like it when people try to take your life out of your hands,” you admit quietly. “It makes me sad.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we, kitten?” he rumbles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Let me cheer you up—I very much enjoyed hearing you speak up for me.”

Lifting your head up, you look into his warm garnet eyes. “You did?” 

“Mm,” he hums, pulling you closer. “I do hate cheap beer, and you all are enough for me. You know me very well,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“But for all your expertise, you were wrong about one thing,” he whispers against you. “My happy is your happy.”

[venuslarkspur]

IM KNAWING AT THE CAGES OF MY ENCLOSURE PLS RELEASE MORE OF TEEN TRINITY I BEG YOU

Okay y’all are right I’ve prolonged this series too long <3 (so here you go 💚)

Link to Part 1 - Robin Vs Wonder Girl

Teen Trinity Meet Up

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Wonder Girl!Reader (romantic), Jon Kent x Wonder Girl!Reader (platonic or romantic, but was written to be romantic)

Summary: After you finally return home after a long 3 year stay in the island of Themyscira, where you trained with the Amazons, you leave behind an old friend and once reunited are invited to join a new Superhero team consisting of You, Him and someone else, very much love triangle but not really.

Warning: Teenage flirting idk, Mild Misandry from the amazons.

Notes: OKAY I BARELY GOT THIS OUT BUT I NEED TO FEED YALL SO HERE WE GO <3

—————————

The fog was thick today, it made you miss Themyscira. It’s taking some getting used too, especially seeing boys again, you never told any of the Amazons about Damian. It was a bad idea, you could barely contain yourself being around him. You had a childish crush on him, but it’s been 3 years now and you hadn’t ended on the best note. But you were 13 then and couldn’t understand your feelings properly, your last meeting ended with you screaming at Damian to stop toying with your feelings; you thought you had something, turns out he was just like the mean boys at school.

Looking back you had overreacted, like seriously overreacted. You felt awkward seeing him again, but it was thanks to the Amazons you had this crush educated out of you; you even met some cute girls back on Themyscira, they were a bit older than you, you could tell since you were the only kid there but that didn’t stop you. What actually stopped you was the fact they weren’t Damian. The last thing you needed was a distraction, you were the future Wonder Woman god damn it!

But anyway enough bitching for today, you were ready to meet your new teammates today; sort of, you already met Damian of course. But you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Jon yet, you heard some mixed things from Damian a few years back; but that was it. You were curious to say the least.

—————————

You were now planted on one of the rooftops of Gotham, my god, you hated it here. It was awful, the air pollution, the smell, even the people. It wasn’t your go to place that’s for sure. You winced slightly at the bruises from the yesterday’s sparring session with Damian, turns out he had approved too. You dropped him on his ass eventually of course; but he still had some moves you weren’t expecting.

“Don’t jump off.” You heard a voice from behind and a swoosh of a cape, it was Damian. He’s so much chilled than before, what changed? Honestly you expected him to be taller, yeah you had some crazy Amazon genes but he was originally taller. You didn’t mind though, just wasn’t expecting it. You played with your tiara slightly and turned your head to face him, still sitting on the ledge. “Would you come after me?” You asked, tucking your hair behind your ear slightly. He grinned in amusement and sat down next to you. “You can fly now, remember? But yeah of course I would.” He said whilst pulling his gloves up. “Jon?” You asked. “He’ll be here soon.” And with that you directed your attention downwards.

Eventually he spoke again but let out a chuckle before speaking, “It’s funny, Themyscira has made you grow quite beautiful.” He said directing his attention towards you, your heart fluttered, you were finally getting the treatment you wanted. Just took 3 years to get there, it wasn’t as fulfilling as you thought though. Maybe it was because you had slowly fallen out of love with him, you couldn’t tell. But it didn’t make this any less sweet. And you had the urge to flirt back, if you could call it that. “What about you? You’re not looking so bad yourself.” You declared, with your tongue dragged across your front teeth. He looked away with a smirk, this made you question a LOT.

————————

Jon had arrived slightly later, as the three of you looked out from the rooftop, the tension from your previous conversation still held true. Jon frantically kept looking in between you two, feeling like he’d interrupted something…

Damian stayed nonchalant, you tried to desperately look the other way, praying, hoping Jon wouldn’t notice your blushing face. but Jon was dumbfounded. Had this meet up he arranged turned into him third wheeling you two? Gosh..

“So I spoke to my father.” Damian spoke up first, his stoic voice remained at its average pitch. You and Jon both peered your heads to look at him, your eyes wide. “He’s going to look into finding us a headquarters.” He smiled and you and Jon exchanged smiles whilst you muttered words of excitement. Finally having something to take your mind off Damian.

Before long, Damian had left you both together. You were getting ready to leave before something Jon said shocked you, “Are you and Damian a thing now or..” He said and smiled awkwardly; rubbing the back of his head. Your face turned out swiftly and you begun waving your arms in embarrassment

“No it’s nothing like that!” You blushed, and you both turned your gaze to nothing in particular, but just away from each other. Why is he asking that? Gosh did you two really look like that?! Will Jon gossip?! You haven’t exactly known him for long..

“Sorry I shouldn’t have assumed things..” He lets out a sigh, he made his way to edge of the rooftop, the faint stars in the sky made this all surreal. “I best be off.” He trailed, ready to fly off. But you had other plans. “Jon!” You exhaled, moving closer, almost running. He turned around and let out a “Hm? What’s wrong?” He asked, and you smiled at him. “It was just nice seeing you..” you muttered and he waved at you before turning again. “You too.” A blush on his face barely evident, at least not to you. And with a loud “whoosh!” He too was gone. But a question stayed on your mind..why did he care whether or not you were dating Damian?

————————

Taglist: @waterwyne @girlmachia @spacegirlfromearth @riaaavm

- SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I RECENTLY LOST SOMEONE SO IM TRYING 💕

[loafysainz]

FIGHTING TOGETHER | CL 16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

warn: angst, bit fluff, grief & loss

summary: When Y/N’s cancer worsens despite treatment, the doctor says there’s no cure—only time. She begins to lose hope, but Charles refuses to let her give up, promising they’ll fight together, no matter what.

The world around Y/N blurred, the sterile white walls of the hospital room closing in as the doctor’s words settled into her bones like ice.

“The treatments aren’t working as we hoped. Instead of slowing it down, the cancer is progressing faster than expected.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her hands trembled on her lap, fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater as she forced herself to listen. To understand. But the words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else’s story, not hers.

“At this stage, aggressive treatments will only prolong your life. There is no definitive cure.”

No cure.

Y/N’s heart clenched so tightly it physically hurt. She wanted to scream, to ask how this was even possible. They had caught it early. They had started treatment immediately. Everything should have been fine.

She turned her head, eyes searching for the one person she needed most.

Charles sat beside her, unnervingly still. His lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. His green eyes—usually filled with warmth and love—were wide, blank with shock.

She had never seen him like this before. Charles was always the strong one, the one who could make her feel safe even in the worst situations. But now, he looked just as lost as she felt.

“I’ll give you both some time.” The doctor’s voice was distant, muffled, before footsteps faded away.

Silence filled the room.

Y/N exhaled shakily, her throat burning. “Charles…” Her voice cracked, and the sound of it made something snap inside him.

Charles reached for her hands instantly, gripping them so tightly it almost hurt. His warmth, his presence—it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

“Baby,” he finally spoke, his voice low, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “We’ll fight this. Together.”

Her heart ached. “Charles, you heard what the doctor said. There’s no—”

“No.” His voice was firm this time, and he shook his head sharply. “Don’t say that. Don’t say it like it’s over.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes glassy, and his entire body was tense as if he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

“Charles,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I don’t want to die.”

A sharp inhale.

Charles closed his eyes for a brief second before shifting forward, pulling her into his arms. “You won’t,” he murmured into her hair, his voice trembling. “You won’t, because I won’t let you. We’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be here every step of the way, Y/N. I swear it.”

His arms were wrapped around her so tightly, as if he could hold her together when everything else was falling apart.

A sob tore from her throat. She didn’t even realize she was crying until Charles pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with the gentlest touch, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll carry this with you, no matter how heavy it gets. We’ll fight this. Every single day, we’ll fight.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing everything.

And in that moment, even with fear consuming her whole, she believed him. Because Charles had never broken a promise to her before.

And she prayed he never would.

—

One day, the first time Y/N noticed her hair falling out, it was just a few strands on her pillow. Nothing alarming. Nothing too serious. But then it started happening more often—on her sheets, in the shower, tangled between Charles’ fingers when he stroked her head absentmindedly.

She tried not to care. She tried to tell herself it was just hair, that it would grow back. But when she looked in the mirror and saw how thin it had become, how the once-full locks that Charles used to run his hands through now barely framed her face, she couldn’t help it—she broke down.

That night, she sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the strands that had fallen onto her lap, eyes burning as she stared at the evidence of her body deteriorating. She heard Charles come in, but she didn’t move.

“Mon amour?” His voice was soft, hesitant.

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she whispered, “I look awful.”

Charles knelt before her, hands resting gently on her knees. “No, you don’t.”

“Charles, please,” she choked out, her grip tightening around the hair in her hands. “Look at me. My hair is falling out. Soon, I’ll be—” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll be bald. I’ll look sick. I’ll look—”

“Beautiful,” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “You’ll look beautiful.”

She let out a broken laugh, shaking her head. “You’re just saying that.”

Charles reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “I have never lied to you about this. Since the moment I met you, you have been the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And nothing—nothing—will ever change that.”

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, but Charles wasn’t done. He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You think your hair makes you beautiful? It’s not just your hair, mon amour. It’s you. It’s the way you smile. It’s the way you talk. It’s the way you exist.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “And even if—no, when—you lose all of it, I will still look at you like I did the first time I saw you. Because you are you. And you are mine.”

She broke. A sob tore through her chest, and Charles pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried into his shoulder. He pressed his lips against her temple, whispering, “You are beautiful. You are beautiful. You will always be beautiful.”

But no matter how much he reassured her, no matter how many times he told her she was still the most breathtaking person he had ever seen, it didn’t change the truth of her condition. It didn’t stop the way her body was failing her.

And Charles saw it.

Every single day.

Every single moment.

Every time she winced in pain but tried to smile for him. Every time she grew too tired to even sit up properly. Every time she held his hand during treatment, her grip weak and trembling.

He cried often.

Silently.

When she was asleep, when she wasn’t looking, when he excused himself to the bathroom just to let out a sob. He wasn’t strong enough to watch the love of his life suffer like this.

And then—then came the news that shattered what little hope he had left.

The doctor sat across from him in the dimly lit office, the air thick with unspoken grief. “Charles,” the doctor began carefully, “we’ve done everything we can.”

Charles’ hands clenched into fists. “No.”

“The treatments—”

“Try something else.” His voice was tight, desperate.

The doctor sighed. “At this point, they’re only prolonging her life. They’re not helping anymore.”

Charles felt like he had been punched in the chest. “So, what? You’re telling me to just sit back and watch her die?”

The doctor remained quiet.

Charles shot up from his chair, slamming his hands against the desk. “I am paying you to save her!” His voice shook with barely contained rage. “You’re supposed to help her! Do your job!”

“Charles,” the doctor said firmly, “I understand this is difficult, but we have reached a point where—”

"NO!" He was breathing heavily now, his entire body trembling. “I refuse to accept that. I will do anything—I don’t care how much it costs, I don’t care what I have to do—fix her!” His voice cracked on the last two words.

The doctor’s expression softened, but his next words were like a dagger to Charles’ heart.

“All we can do now is make her comfortable.”

Charles felt his knees buckle. His hands slid off the desk, his breath coming out in short, painful gasps. “No,” he whispered. “Please. Please, no.”

“She doesn’t know,” the doctor continued gently. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut, his chest aching with the weight of it all. He wanted to scream, to cry, to fight against the reality of the situation. But all he could do was stand there, shattered and broken.

Because no matter how much he loved her—no matter how much he was willing to give up, to sacrifice, to suffer for her—love alone wasn’t enough to save her.

—

The words left Charles’ lips in a trembling whisper, his forehead pressed against Y/N’s. His fingers gently cradled the back of her head, careful, as if she were made of the most fragile glass. He kissed her forehead, lingering, as if he could seal his love into her skin—so deep that it would anchor her here, in this world, with him.

She had been quiet for a long time. Too long.

The hospital room was bathed in a soft glow from the evening sun filtering through the half-closed blinds, but it did nothing to warm the cold fear seeping into Charles’ bones. Y/N had always been his light, but now, she was dimming right in front of him, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so fragile that it shattered him, she spoke.

“If I go early, it’s okay… We’ll meet again there, I’ll still be the same. I’m sorry for the imperfect journey”

Charles' breath caught in his throat.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

"No," he whispered, his voice breaking instantly. "No, don’t say that. You will survive. You will stay here with me. You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? You’re not going anywhere without my permission."

His hands tightened around hers, desperate, as if holding her tightly enough would keep her grounded to this world. His eyes burned, but he couldn't stop the tears that spilled freely, tracking down his face as he pressed kiss after kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose—wherever he could reach.

"You’re not leaving me," he repeated, his voice unsteady. "Not now, not ever. I won’t allow it."

Y/N only smiled softly, tired, weak, but filled with the kind of love that made it hurt even more. She raised a shaky hand, brushing her fingertips against his damp cheek, wiping away his tears even though she was the one who needed comforting. That was always who she was—selfless, too good, too kind.

And it only made it harder to watch her suffer.

The pain was unbearable.

Y/N clenched the sheets beneath her, her knuckles white, her entire body trembling. Every inch of her ached, burned, screamed. It felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Charles,” she whimpered, her breath hitching.

He was by her side in an instant.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured, his fingers immediately finding hers, threading them together, grounding her.

Tears gathered in Y/N’s eyes as she gasped for breath, her body convulsing under the agony that never seemed to stop. She had been strong for so long, had fought for so long—but right now, she just wanted it to end. She wanted the pain to go away.

“Charles…” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It hurts. It hurts so much. I— I can’t—”

Charles swallowed thickly, his own pain reflected in the way his lips quivered. His chest tightened as he watched her struggle, completely helpless to take away her suffering. It was the most agonizing thing he had ever experienced.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I want to stop. I can’t do this anymore. Please, let me stop.”

Charles felt like his entire world was crumbling.

His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he fought against the sob threatening to choke him. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, his own tears falling freely.

His strong, beautiful girl. His Y/N.

He wanted to give her the world, but all he could do now was hold her through the pain.

“Shh, it’s okay, Mon Amour,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay. The pain will go away soon, I promise. Just hold on a little longer, alright?”

Y/N whimpered, her fingers tightening around his as another wave of pain wracked through her body.

Charles felt utterly powerless.

“You can do this,” he murmured, pressing a shaky kiss to her forehead. “You’re strong. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Another broken sob escaped his lips as he kissed her again, over and over, desperate and full of love.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

But the truth was—he didn’t know how much longer they had left.

And it was killing him.

—

“I want to see Lord Perceval become World Champion this year.”

Charles paused, his hand tightening around the spoon he was holding. He had been feeding Y/N carefully, making sure she ate properly despite how weak she had become. But her words made his heart sink. He didn’t answer immediately, staring at her as if hoping he had misheard.

“When are you leaving for the circuit?” she asked softly, looking up at him with tired but expectant eyes.

Charles swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He set the spoon down gently on the tray and reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—what was left of it, at least. His fingers lingered against her cheek, tracing the curve of her face as if memorizing her. His voice was quiet but firm when he finally spoke.

“I'm not going this year.” His eyes find hers, his expression unwavering. “I'm staying here with you.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “Charles—”

“I already made up my mind.” His voice was laced with finality. “I don’t care about racing right now. Nothing matters more than you.”

A lump formed in her throat as she saw the raw emotion in his eyes. She had always known how much she meant to him, but this—this was different. This was Charles giving up everything he had worked for, his lifelong dream, just to stay by her side.

She hated it.

She loved him for it, but she hated it too.

“Charles…” Her voice wavered as she reached for his hand, holding it between her frail fingers. “You can't do that. You can't just give up everything for me.”

“It's not giving up,” he countered, squeezing her hand gently. “It's choosing you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, she felt like crying. But she couldn't let him do this. She wouldn't.

“Please,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “I never ask you for anything, do I?”

Charles inhaled sharply.

“I always do what you want,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I always support you, I always cheer for you. But just this once… please grant me this wish.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Charles felt his resolve cracking.

“I want to see you win,” she said, her lips trembling. “I want to see Lord Perceval become World Champion this year.”

His heart shattered.

Her eyes—God, her eyes were still shining, still full of so much hope. Despite everything, despite the pain, the exhaustion, the way sickness had drained the color from her face… she still had that fire in her. And it was burning for him.

Charles exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face. “Y/N…”

“Please.”

It was that word that broke him completely.

He could never say no to her, not when she looked at him like that. Not when she was still trying to give him hope, even when she was the one suffering.

With a heavy heart, he nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I'll do it. I'll race for you.”

A small, weak smile appeared on her lips, and Charles immediately leaned in, cupping her face gently. His forehead pressed against hers as he closed his eyes, breathing her in.

“You have to promise me you'll watch every race,” he murmured.

She giggled softly. “Of course, I will.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “And you have to wait for me. I'll win for you, but you have to be here when I do.”

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding. “I'll be here.”

Charles didn't hesitate. He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers with so much love it made her breath hitch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a desperate plea for her to hold on just a little longer.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “More than anything.”

She smiled against his mouth. “I love you more, Lord Perceval.”

And in that moment, he knew—no matter what happened, he would give her the championship she dreamed of. For her. For them.

—

Charles had always made time for Y/N. No matter how hectic his schedule was, no matter how exhausted he felt after a race, he would call her. Even when she was too weak to talk, even when her responses were nothing more than soft hums or whispered words, he still called. He would tell her about his day, about the track, about the weather—anything, just to keep her company. And when she couldn’t talk anymore, he would simply admire her.

"You’re so beautiful, mon amour," he would say, voice thick with emotion. Even when her body had grown frail, even when her hair was gone, even when her skin had lost its color, to him, she was still the most breathtaking woman in the world.

The night before the final race of the season, he called her again. She was barely awake, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you tired, mon amour?" he asked softly.

"A little,"she admitted.

"Then sleep, my love. Dream of something nice. I’ll call you after the race, okay?"

There was silence for a moment before she murmured, "I love you, Charles."

His chest tightened. It wasn’t often that she had the energy to say it lately. He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat before whispering back, "Je t’aime, mon amour. Always."

That was the last time he ever heard her voice.

—

Race day arrived, and Charles felt… calm. Confident. As if something greater than himself was pushing him forward. He had promised Y/N he would win this for her, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

Before the race, as always, he called her. But this time, she didn’t pick up.

Charles frowned, but quickly reassured himself. She must be sleeping. She needs rest. I’ll talk to her later.

And so, he raced.

And he won.

He did it. Charles Leclerc was the World Champion.

He climbed out of his car, heart pounding, overwhelmed with emotions. He had dreamed of this moment for years, and yet, the only thing he wanted was to share it with her.

As soon as he had the chance, he grabbed his phone. He called her. Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

"Come on, Y/N, pick up," he murmured under his breath, bouncing his knee anxiously.

Then, he saw his brother approaching him. Lorenzo’s face was pale, his eyes red. Behind him, Arthur looked like he was struggling to hold himself together.

"Charles…" Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. "It’s Y/N."

Charles felt his entire body go cold.

"No." His voice barely came out. "Don’t say it. Don’t—"

"She’s gone, Charles."

Something inside him shattered.

A strangled sob ripped from his throat as he dropped his phone. His legs gave out, and suddenly he was on his knees, hands gripping his face as a raw, broken wail tore through him.

The cameras were still rolling, the interviewers waiting for him, the entire world watching—but he didn’t care.

"No, no, no, please—" He gasped between sobs, rocking back and forth, his chest heaving as if the weight of the entire world was crushing him.

When they finally pulled him up for his WDC interview, he looked like a ghost. His eyes were hollow, filled with endless grief, and yet, tears wouldn’t stop falling.

"Charles, congratulations on winning your first World Championship."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lips trembled, his hands clenched into fists. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

"This… this was for her." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing. "The love of my life."

He tried to say more, but his throat closed up. His face crumpled as more tears fell, and suddenly, Carlos was beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Then the other drivers, his friends placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The world had just watched him win everything, only to lose the one person he wanted to share it with.

—

When Charles returned to Monaco, he went straight to see her.

She looked so peaceful. Almost as if she was just sleeping.

Charles knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against her cold hand.

"Mon amour… I won." His voice trembled. "You kept your promise. You watched me become champion, didn’t you?"

Silence.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her hands.

"It’s okay now, my love. No more pain. No more suffering." He cupped her face gently, his thumbs tracing the curve of her lips. “You’re so beautiful today. Just like always.”

Tears dripped onto her skin as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Wait for me, mon amour. We’ll meet again. I promise.”

He stayed with her for as long as they would let him, whispering sweet words, kissing her gently, holding onto her as if he could keep her there a little longer.

Even as they finally took her away, even as he watched her disappear into the ground, he couldn’t let go.

Because how do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

END

[djarindroid]

hi! I don’t know if you’re comfortable writing this (I didn’t see you say anything about it in your rules), but could I request a pregnant!reader x Thanos? Kinda like Jun-hee and Myung-Gi. I totally understand if this makes you uncomfortable, and feel free to decline if so! Thank you! <3

tysm for this request! 💕 Loved writing this, I hope you enjoy it!

Stay Behind Me

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: After walking out on Thanos, you never expected to see him again. But when he spots you in the games how will he react to the secret you’ve been hiding?

Warnings: Pregnancy. Usual Squid Game stuff - death, shooting.

Word Count: 1,162

The argument had been building for weeks, small drops of annoyance that had finally bubbled over.

‘You lost everything?!’ You shouted, voice raw. ‘What made you think you could just take my money and put it all into that stupid crypto thing!?’

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. ‘FUCK, you think I wanted to lose it?! I did it for us!’ He pointed at you as he yelled back. 

‘Well good job, you lost all of our money and now we have nothing,’ your chest heaved. ‘How are we gonna pay the bills?’ Your nostrils flared as you watched him reach for his necklace, taking out one of his pills. ‘Oh, this is fucking great! I can’t believe you're just gonna get high rather than talking this out.’

He scoffed, ‘what do you want me to say? That I ruined everything? You already know that!’

‘I want you to take responsibility, at least say sorry!’ You threw your hands in the air in frustration. ‘Don’t numb yourself with that shit. Talk to me. Please.’

His jaw clenched, for a moment he looked away, avoiding your eyes. ‘You just don’t get it,’ he muttered before popping the pill in his mouth.

Your stomach twisted, ‘no, I get it. I understand perfectly.’ You could feel your heart breaking as you watched the man you loved turn into a stranger before you. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Silence stretched between you both, for a moment you thought he might reach out for you but in the blink of an eye his expression hardened. ‘Fine. Get out then.’

Tears began to slip from your eyes, this was it, it was over just like that. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t. Not as you grabbed your bag, not as the door slammed shut behind you and not when, days later, you realised you were pregnant with his child.

Months later you found yourself in a numbered green tracksuit. After you’d left Thanos, life had been hard. You’d struggled to make ends meet, until you’d met a suited man on the subway who offered you an opportunity to make enough money to solve all your problems.

You were currently stood in a giant arena, listening to the first game being announced. Red light green light, sounds simple enough. A shout from the front of the crowd made you flinch. A player, number 456, had run to the front and was shouting about how the game was dangerous, that if you lost you’d be killed. He had to be crazy right? 

Murmurs rippled around you, some people shouting out that he was just trying to scare them. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself despite the tremor in your hands. Your attention turned to the large mechanical doll at the other end of the arena as it whirred around, facing its back to you. 

‘GREEN LIGHT.’

You began walking forward, going with the crowd. 

‘RED LIGHT.’ 

Everyone froze as the giant doll turned back to you with a soft whirring noise. It seemed that everyone was doing well as the first few rounds went by without incident.

Then, a scream split through the air. Your eyes flickered across the crowd to see a girl swatting at something near her face. You held your breath, waiting. Maybe player 456 was just paranoid..

Your thoughts were interrupted as a crack pierced through the air and the girl hit the ground.

Screams erupted as people realised what happened. Panic ensued and more gunshots rang out. You clenched your eyes shut and focused on staying still. The life growing inside of you had to be your main priority, nothing else mattered.

‘GREEN LIGHT!’ 

You couldn’t move, locked into place by terror. You weren’t alone, everyone around you was frozen with fear. A prickling sensation crept up your spine, followed by the uneasy feeling you were being watched. Shakily, you took the opportunity to turn your head.

Thanos.

All the air left your lungs. He was here. His eyes widened as yours met his. 

‘RED LIGHT!’

You watched as his gaze lowered to your belly. Taking in the undeniable swell that definitely hadn’t been there when you last saw him. 

It was his child, he had no doubt.

You hadn’t made any attempt to reach out to him, you don’t know why. You’d made excuses, telling yourself he wouldn’t be interested, that he’d have turned you away at the door. But now, with him looking at you all of those excuses felt weak. It could just be your emotional state, or the situation you found yourself in but you wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you.

It seemed that he had the same thought because the second the doll turned away again, he moved. Not forwards to the finish line, but towards you. He hurried, stepping over bodies, until he stood in front of you, blocking you from view. He didn’t hesitate before placing a shaky hand on your belly. His touch was soft, gentle - everything that you’d missed.

There was so much you wanted to say but before you could the doll whirled back around and you froze. You stared into his eyes, desperate to read his expression. He looked determined. The moment green light was called again he grabbed your hand, ‘stay behind me.’ 

You didn’t argue. As the game continued he guided you carefully, always making sure to shield you with his broad frame. Other gunshots rang out but his grip was unyielding, never letting you go. Despite everything, being close to him again felt right. A part of you had been aching for it, even if you never wanted to admit it.

As the finish line drew nearer you felt the weight of everything pressing down on you. The stress of the game, disbelief that Thanos was here, guilt that you hadn’t told him, fear for your unborn baby - it was almost overwhelming. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes but you forced yourself to keep moving.

Finally you crossed the line, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as relief washed over you. Thanos turned to you, his dark eyes searched yours but before you could say anything he pulled you into him. You melted into his warmth, his arms familiar and steady - home. 

‘Stay with me,’ he spoke quietly as he held you. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he pulled away slightly and glanced down at your bump. ‘I won’t let anything happen to either of you.’

Your tears brimmed over as you replied, ‘Thanos I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell–’

‘No need,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I fucked up, I get it now,’ he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears. His voice dropped to a low whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not gonna let you go again.’

For the first time since walking out on him, despite the horror surrounding you, you felt hope.

[ankababy]

A Home (part 12)

Part 1 Part 11

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

One lightbulb, one chair, one girl, one—bullet?

Niragi was still not a morning person.

Actually, scratch that—Niragi wasn’t a person who functioned at any time of day unless he had a cigarette in one hand and his gun in the other.

So when he dragged himself out of bed, still half-asleep, still rubbing his eyes, looking horrible because who the fuck was he trying to impress—

The last thing he expected was you.

Balanced on top of some fucking chair-pile contraption from hell.

He stopped dead in his tracks, one foot in the living room, one foot still in the hall, blinking hard because—

What. The fuck. Was he looking at?

You were standing—no, teetering—atop a fucking tower of stacked furniture, one foot on a chair, the other on some books stacked haphazardly on a stool.

And you were just up there.

Poking at the lamp.

Muttering under your breath.

“…The fuck are you doing?”

You turned your head over your shoulder, looking at him like he was the crazy one. “The lamp.” you said simply. “It’s not yellow enough.”

Niragi just stared.

You turned back to the lamp, squinting. “It’s supposed to be warm. Soft. Cozy. But it’s just wrong, Niragi. It’s not right.” You huffed in frustration, tapping at the glass like that would somehow make it glow the exact shade you wanted. “The aesthetic is completely ruined.”

Niragi took a slow step closer, staring at the fucking death trap of furniture you had somehow not fallen from yet.

“What the fuck are you standing on?”

“A chair.”

He gave you a blank look. “No, that—” he gestured at the entire unstable mess under you “—isn’t just a chair. That’s some final-destination-shit waiting to happen.”

“It’s fine.” you said dismissively, tapping the glass again, completely unbothered. “I made sure it was balanced.”

“Balanced?” Niragi repeated. “You’ve got a fucking stool on top of a table on top of a chair. What part of that sounds balanced to you?”

You didn’t even look at him. “The part where I haven’t fallen yet.”

Niragi just dragged a hand down his face.

This was a fucking joke.

You were rambling to yourself about the fucking hue of a fucking lightbulb, picking apart details that no one—except you—would ever give a shit about, your whole body swaying slightly as you balanced on that death-trap, completely unphased.

And Niragi? He was just standing there, watching, like some fucking idiot.

Because he knew you were going to fall.

Had to fall.

There was no fucking way someone could balance like that, no way you could just stand up there for this long without—

You reached up, adjusting the light slightly.

The stack wobbled.

Niragi felt his stomach fucking drop.

“Hey—”

You shifted. Like you expected it. Like you knew exactly how to keep yourself steady.

And you just—

Did.

Like it was fucking nothing. Like you weren’t about to break your skull open on the floor. Like you weren’t even remotely aware of how fucking insane this whole situation was.

Niragi just stood there.

Jaw clenched. Hands tense.

Heart beating a little too fast.

He hated this. Hated how easily you moved, how confident you were, how your focus was completely on that stupid fucking lamp instead of the fact that you were standing on a structure that should not be able to hold you. Hated that, for some fucking reason—

He didn’t want you to fall.

Not because he gave a shit about you breaking something. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle it.

But because the idea of seeing you hurt made something in his chest go tight.

That pissed him off.

“Get the fuck down.” he finally snapped, stepping closer, ready to just fucking drag you off if he had to.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I just need to fix this—”

“I swear to god—”

“The glow just isn’t soft enough—”

“I will shoot the fucking lightbulb.”

You gasped like he had just threatened your firstborn child. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “You’re just mad because you don’t understand aesthetics.”

“Aesthetics?” Niragi scoffed. “You’re out here risking your life over some shitty warm lighting.”

“It’s not warm enough.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.”

You gave him a dramatic look, then sighed, stepping down onto the back of a chair—

And jumped.

Niragi swore his heart stopped for a second.

He thought you were actually going to fucking fall.

But you didn’t.

You landed perfectly, somehow already moving, already stretching your arms over your head like this whole thing had just been a normal part of your morning routine.

Niragi was still standing there.

Trying to remember how the fuck to breathe.

Trying to ignore the way his palms had gone sweaty.

Trying to ignore the fact that his first instinct had been to catch you.

You turned to him, still looking mildly pissed off about the lightbulb. “We’re changing it.” you declared.

Niragi clicked his tongue. “You’re fucking weird.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re an asshole.”

He didn’t mind this. Didn’t mind your weird perfectionism. Didn’t mind your ridiculous need to make everything match your vision. Didn’t mind that you were standing on top of death-trap furniture at seven in the fucking morning just to complain about the shade of yellow in a fucking lamp.

Didn’t mind that, somehow, you made the apartment feel less like a place to rot and more like something… real.

He wouldn’t admit it.

Wouldn’t even think about it too hard.

But something about you? Something about this whole fucking moment?

Made him like mornings just a little more.

“You know lightbulbs?” you asked suddenly, your tone half-skeptical, half-curious.

Niragi’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of dumbass question is that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “A normal one. Do you know lightbulbs?”

He just stared at you, completely silent.

You blinked.

He blinked back.

Nothing.

No response.

No answer.

Just his stupid, smug face watching you.

You sighed, already exasperated. “Niragi.”

Still nothing.

Your foot tapped against the floor. “Niragi.”

He finally tilted his head, lips twitching like he was barely holding back laughter. “Huh?”

You groaned. “Oh my god—”

“What do you mean, do I know lightbulbs?” he cut you off, voice all slow and lazy. “Like, personally? Am I best fucking friends with them?”

Your fingers twitched. “Do you know how they work?”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes flickering with something that really didn’t need to be there this early in the morning. “I know a few things that turn on.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You spun on your heel, already walking away, already regretting everything. But you didn’t get far. Because in a second, he was behind you, looping an arm lazily around your shoulders, tugging you back just enough to throw you off balance, his breath warm against your ear. “Relax.”

You shoved at him, rolling your eyes, but he didn’t let go. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you—” his grip tightened for half a second before he finally let go, voice laced with laughter “—are so fucking easy.”

You scowled. “Oh, fuck off.”

He grinned. “Make me.”

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms. “So? Do you know how lightbulbs work or not?”

His smirk lingered, but there was something knowing behind his gaze now, something too aware. He let the silence stretch just long enough to irritate you again, just long enough for you to open your mouth, ready to yell, before he finally—finally—answered.

“Yeah.” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “I do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Really?”

He scoffed. “What, you think I’m fucking stupid?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I just think you’re an asshole.”

Niragi let out a low hum, but didn’t answer much more.

You let out a long sigh, running a hand through your hair, already feeling tired just dealing with him. But at least you had your answer. And if he knew what he was doing… well. That meant you didn’t have to.

“Alright, genius.” you said, looking him dead in the eye. “Go get me new ones.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” You gestured vaguely toward the lamp. “If you know how they work, you know what I need. So go get them.”

He blinked. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” You placed a hand on your hip. “And you do.”

Niragi stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “You were the one complaining about the color—”

“And you were the one being a smartass about it!” you cut him off. “So if you’re so damn smart, go get me new ones.”

He licked his teeth, tilting his head slightly, watching you. “You think I’m just gonna listen to you?”

You just lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with absolute certainty. “Yeah.”

Niragi’s grin twitched.

Because the worst part? You were fucking right. And he didn’t even know why. Didn’t know why he was going to do it. Didn’t know why he was already thinking about where the fuck he could find the right ones. Didn’t know why he cared.

But he did.

And that pissed him off.

So naturally, he turned to make you feel just as pissed off as he did.

“I better get something for this.” he muttered, already walking away.

“You get to keep living here.” you called after him. “For free.”

He turned back just enough to flash you a grin. “I meant something better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Niragi.”

“What type is it?” he asked, turning his head just enough to look at you again.

You stared. “What?”

He gave you a long, expectant look. “The lightbulb, princess. What kind is it?”

You blinked.

Opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

Because—what? What kind? Did lightbulbs have kinds? Wasn’t it just… a fucking lightbulb?

You felt your brain stutter over itself as you looked at him, eyes darting between his face and the lamp in front of you, suddenly very aware that you had no idea what the fuck you were talking about.

“…The… normal kind?” you tried, voice slow, uncertain.

Niragi just stared.

He sighed.

“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t even know what you need?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do—”

“No, you don’t.”

Your fingers twitched. “I know the vibe I want.”

Niragi let out a laugh. “The vibe?”

“Yes, the vibe, Niragi.” You gestured aggressively toward the lamp. “The warmth, the color, the—”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You scowled. “You asked, asshole!”

Niragi ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before rolling his shoulders back. “Alright, alright, shut up.”

You glared. “You shut up.”

“You—”

“You—”

“You—”

“Niragi!”

“Y/N!”

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

He huffed, mirroring you just to be an asshole.

A long, tense silence.

“…Just fucking take it out and bring it to me.” he muttered, jerking his chin toward the lamp.

Your lips parted slightly.

You looked at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Then back at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed.

“Take. It. Out.” he repeated, voice sharp, slow, like he was talking to a child.

You blinked again.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Just stared harder.

“You do know how to do that, right?”

More silence.

You gave him nothing.

Not even a blink.

“…Are you fucking serious?”

You continued to stare.

“Oh my fucking god.” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before stepping forward. “Move.”

You stepped back instantly, watching with way too much amusement as he grabbed a chair, adjusting it under the lamp.

“See?” he muttered, stepping up. “It’s not that fucking hard.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re taller.”

Niragi scoffed, twisting the bulb out easily, not even looking at you. He hopped off the chair, taking a look at the bulb before tossing it into your hands without warning. You barely caught it, fumbling slightly as he smirked down at you, clearly entertained.

“There.” he muttered, shaking his head. “Now I can go find your dumbass ’vibe’.”

You clutched the bulb tighter, glaring up at him. “You’re the dumbass.”

He just grinned. But even with all his smugness, all his teasing, something about him felt different.

Because even though he called you impossible, even though he acted like this was the most annoying thing in the world, he was still doing it. Still helping. Still listening.

“What do you actually want?” he asked, voice slower now. Less teasing.

You blinked up at him.

He met your gaze, unbothered. “You know. The wattage, the lumens, the temperature—”

“…The what?” you said dumbly.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “The brightness. The warmth. The kind of light.”

Your lips parted slightly.

That was… a thing?

He knew all that?

You stared harder.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected this to be something he was good at. It was lightbulbs, for fuck’s sake. And yet, here he was, asking technical shit that you did not know the answer to. Which, admittedly, made you feel kind of stupid.

Your grip tightened around the bulb as you inhaled, turning your gaze back to the lamp. “…I just want it to look good.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer.”

“It’s a shit answer.”

You huffed, shifting your weight. “I just want it to be… softer. Warmer. Not so—so bright—”

“Warmer temp, lower lumens.” Niragi nodded once. “Got it.”

You just blinked again, slightly thrown off by how easy that was for him.

“…Yeah.” You nodded slowly. “That.”

He smirked. “I know.”

You wanted to kick him.

But you didn’t. You just crossed your arms tighter, shifting under his gaze as he grabbed his gun before heading toward the door. “I’ll be back.” he muttered, already turning away.

You rolled your eyes. “Bring me something nice.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

You grinned. “A surprise.”

Niragi paused for a split second. Then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath before stepping out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sighed, glancing down at the bulb in your hands before looking back up at the empty socket, staring.

It looked weird like that. Bare. Unfinished.

You didn’t even notice Chishiya come in.

“Something wrong?”

You turned your head just in time to see him step into the kitchen, looking just as calm and put-together as ever, hands in his hoodie pockets.

Your entire posture eased at the sight of him.

He always had that effect on you.

“Morning.” you greeted softly, immediately perking up.

He just gave you a slow nod, eyes drifting toward the chair under the lamp. “Do I want to know?”

You grinned slightly. “It’s fine. I was just fixing it.”

He arched an eyebrow.

You sighed. “I was, but I made Niragi do it.”

Chishiya hummed knowingly, stepping past you toward the counter.

You swayed slightly as you watched him. “I was about to make you breakfast.”

His eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before looking forward again. “Mm.”

You took that as a yes. Smiling softly, you moved toward the counter, setting the bulb down before grabbing ingredients. “You know, I think Niragi actually knows his shit.” you muttered, rambling as you reached for a pan. “He asked me what kind I wanted, and I didn’t even know lightbulbs had kinds. But he did. He’s out getting one now. He’s still an ass, though. Kept messing with me before he left.”

Chishiya barely reacted. “Sounds right.”

You smiled. “He also took my request for a surprise very seriously.”

He gave you a sideways glance. “You think you’re getting something good?”

You just shrugged. “I think he likes me.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change. He just let that thought sit in the air as you started cooking, humming softly to yourself.

He never understood how you did that—how you could switch moods so easily. How you could go from chaos to sweetness without a single moment of hesitation. You were an angel in moments like these, making breakfast for someone who had done nothing but manipulate you, talking like this wasn’t a fucked up situation.

And yet, you were still you.

And right now, you were especially soft with him. You turned your head slightly, glancing at him as you flipped the food in the pan. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He met your gaze, unbothered. “No.”

Your lips curled up slightly. “Promise?”

His expression didn’t change. “I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

You hummed, nodding slowly as you turned back to the stove. “Good.” you muttered, satisfied.

Chishiya just watched you, quiet, hands still tucked into his hoodie pockets. You were different from earlier. You talked more when you were like this, rambling, making conversation just to fill the air.

Not that he minded.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you much.” you continued, plating the food. “You were gone a lot yesterday.”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “Not much to see.”

You pouted slightly as you set the plate in front of him. “I like seeing you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, his face unreadable as always, but something in his gaze shifted. Something quiet.

You didn’t even seem to notice.

Instead, you just smiled, reaching up to pet his head, fingers running through his soft hair. “You’re too cold sometimes, y’know that?”

Chishiya didn’t react. Didn’t pull away.

He never did.

You let your fingers linger for just a second longer before pulling back, grabbing yourself a glass of water as he sat down. “Did you eat at all yesterday?”

He glanced at his plate, then back at you. “Does it matter?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It does matter.”

He quirked a brow. “To who?”

“To me.”

Chishiya leaned back slightly. “And why’s that?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Because you’re my friend?”

His lips twitched slightly. “You sure?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and eat.”

He gave you an unimpressed look before grabbing his fork.

You sat next to him, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as he took his first bite, chewing slowly. He was never one to rush, always taking his time, analyzing things even when he didn’t need to.

You liked watching him.

Something about the way he carried himself, the way he existed so easily in his own head—it fascinated you.

“What’s wrong with you?” you mused suddenly, tilting your head.

He arched a brow. “Be more specific.”

You grinned slightly. “You don’t get attached to people, do you?”

Chishiya’s chewing slowed.

Your gaze stayed steady, curious, soft.

He swallowed, setting his fork down. “No.”

Your lips pursed slightly. “You say that like it’s normal.”

His expression didn’t change. “It is for me.”

You exhaled through your nose, shifting slightly in your seat. “That’s kinda sad.”

Chishiya’s brows lifted a fraction. “Is it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. No one’s ever made you feel something? Like—actually cared about you?”

He just stared at you.

His silence was louder than words.

Your chest tightened slightly, your fingers gripping your glass a little tighter.

“…That’s not fair.” you muttered.

Chishiya tilted his head. “To who?”

“To you.” you said simply, eyes soft, searching his. “That’s just not fair.”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink. He only exhaled softly, a slow, almost unnoticeable movement, before looking back at his plate.

“…You don’t have to care for me.” he said finally. But it was quiet. Softer than before.

You smiled.

“You say that.” you murmured, reaching out again, brushing your fingers through his hair once more. “But you’re eating my food, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t tell you to stop.

That was an answer all on its own.

Your fingers traced gently through Chishiya’s hair, soft and absentminded, but your words were anything but.

“I’m sorry.” you said, voice light, but full of something deeper. “I’m sorry you had to live like that.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t shift. Not on the surface, at least. But there was something unreadable in his eyes, something quiet.

You pulled your hand back, leaning against the counter. “And before you start,” you continued, anticipating whatever cold dismissal he was about to give. “I don’t mean it in a pity way. So don’t think of it like that.”

He hummed, taking another bite of food, as if that response was enough.

You sighed, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You’re… different. But in a good way.” you said carefully. “You think differently. You see things differently. You’re analytical, you’re smart—”

He huffed a small breath. “Flattery?”

You shook your head. “No. Just the truth.”

He glanced at you, skeptical.

But you weren’t lying.

You never lied to him.

You leaned in slightly, your voice softer. “I don’t think you’re incapable of caring, Chishiya. I think… no one’s ever given you a reason to.”

He stilled for a moment.

Your words settled between you, sinking into him like a weight.

You knew how to talk to people. You always had. You did psychology for fuck’s sake—you knew how the brain worked, how defense mechanisms worked, how he worked. And yet, even knowing all that, even recognizing every wall he put up, every quiet manipulation, every careful detachment—you still cared.

And he knew that.

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw through people too easily for his own good, picked apart their intentions before they even realized them themselves. But with you, there was no motive. No selfish gain. You just meant it.

Chishiya had always known he was different. Even as a child, he had been too quiet, too perceptive, too detached from things that were supposed to matter. While other kids cried when they scraped their knees, he had just stared, fascinated by the blood pooling beneath their skin. While other kids looked for comfort from their parents, he had learned, very quickly, that his parents had nothing to give.

Emotions were irrelevant. Affection was useless. Weak.

So he learned to exist without it.

And for years, that had worked.

He went through school the same way he went through life—observing, learning, excelling, all while keeping himself at a safe distance. He understood people better than they understood themselves, knew what made them tick, knew how to use that.

But he never let them close.

Because why would he?

Affection was a concept he had never been taught, never been given, never needed. He functioned just fine without it.

Until you.

You, who looked at him like he was worth knowing, not just useful. You, who didn’t pull away when he said something cruel, who didn’t shy away from his presence. You, who ran your fingers through his hair and made him breakfast and looked him straight in the eyes and said sweet words.

Chishiya swallowed slowly, setting his fork down.

He didn’t meet your gaze this time.

You watched him carefully, your expression soft. “You’re not some unfeeling machine, y’know.”

He scoffed lightly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Yeah. You like to think that.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because you were right.

Chishiya had spent his whole life believing he was incapable of love, incapable of forming any real attachment, incapable of feeling anything the way other people did. And maybe, for a while, that had been true.

But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Your voice was steady, sweet. “You are amazing, you know that?”

Chishiya barely looked at you, his eyes cast downward as he spun his fork between his fingers. If the words had come from anyone else, he would have dismissed them entirely. But they were coming from you. And that? That was a different kind of problem.

You sighed, shaking your head. “And I don’t just mean smart. I mean you. You’re… unique.”

He gave a small scoff, finally glancing at you. “That’s just another way of saying ‘weird.’”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But I like weird.”

His fingers stilled against the metal fork.

You pushed yourself off the counter, brushing your hands together. “But hey, I’m not gonna force myself on you. Just eat up, alright?”

And with that, you turned, heading toward your room without waiting for a response.

And just like that—he was alone again.

As a child, he was the type of kid who preferred books over people. He never understood why classmates flocked together in tight, desperate groups, why they were so emotionally dependent on each other, why they needed so much. It seemed weak to him. Inefficient.

So he kept to himself.

School was easy. People were easy. Everything was just one big equation, and he had already solved it. A simple balance of power and perception—figure out what people wanted, what they feared, what they needed, and use it. Manipulation wasn’t even a malicious act to him. It was just logic. Strategy. A means to an end.

And it worked.

Always.

He climbed through life easily, acing exams, cutting down competition, proving time and time again that he was better. He didn’t need approval, he didn’t need connection—he needed control.

Because control was safe.

But you—you were something else entirely.

You didn’t want anything from him. You didn’t try to break through his walls, didn’t push or pry or demand the way others did. You just were. You existed around him, with him, and for some fucking reason, he let you.

Chishiya tapped his fingers against the table, staring at the empty spot where you had been just moments before.

His chest felt… weird. Not tight, not painful, just—unfamiliar.

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the chair.

Alone. Again.

That was how he preferred things.

…Right?

~

You stood below Niragi, arms crossed as you looked up at him perched on the chair, twisting the lightbulb into place.

“Don’t fall.”

He scoffed, sparing you a quick glance. “Tch. I’m not you.”

“I didn’t fall either!”

“You should’ve. That whole tower of death you built was ridiculous.”

“It was efficient.”

“It was fucking stupid.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he gave the bulb one last turn before pulling his hand away. The soft glow of light bathed the room in a warmer hue, and you tilted your head slightly, inspecting it.

“…It’s kinda nice.” you admitted.

Niragi smirked, stepping down from the chair. “Told you.”

You huffed, glancing toward the counter. “Well, thank you for doing it.”

He chuckled, grabbing the chair and dragging it back to its spot. “Yeah, yeah. You should be grateful you’ve got me around.”

“Oh, so grateful.” you teased, leaning against the counter as he shot you a look.

For a moment, it was quiet between you two, but a good quiet. Comfortable. The glow from the lightbulb cast shadows along the walls, making the whole room feel warmer, softer.

Then Niragi snapped his fingers suddenly, as if remembering something.

“Oh, right.” he said, reaching into his pocket.

You raised a brow. “Huh?”

“The thing.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

“The thing you asked for.”

Your brain scrambled for a moment, trying to recall what the hell he was talking about. You had told him to bring you a surprise, but that was just to mess with him. You never expected him to actually—

He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it your way. You barely caught it, fumbling with it before looking down at the object in your hands.

It was… a tiny, plastic keychain. Shaped like a cat.

You stared.

Niragi snorted. “The fuck is that face?”

You looked up at him, then back down at the keychain. It was cheap, scratched up, completely useless—and you loved it.

A slow smile spread across your face. “You actually brought me something?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make it weird.”

You held it up, inspecting it in the light. It was dumb. Utterly useless.

“I love it.”

Niragi’s lips twitched slightly. “You would.”

But beneath his teasing tone, there was something else. Something unfamiliar. He had grabbed the stupid thing on a whim, thinking it was funny, thinking you’d brush it off, thinking he’d have something to tease you about later—but you liked it. Really liked it.

And somehow, that made his chest feel weird. Not in a bad way. Just… weird.

You turned the tiny cat keychain over in your hands, running your fingers along the worn plastic, completely enamored with the stupid little thing.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of you as you held it up, inspecting it under the new warm light. The glow made the tiny scratches on it even more visible, but somehow, that just made you love it even more. It had history.

“Oh my god.” you gasped, grinning as you turned to Niragi. “Look at this little guy. Look at him.”

Niragi watched you, arms crossed, eyebrow quirked. “I see it.”

You clutched it to your chest dramatically. “No, but do you see it?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus. It’s just a fucking keychain.”

“It’s not just a keychain.” you corrected, beaming as you held it up again. “It’s my keychain.”

Niragi snorted, shaking his head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

You took a step closer, grinning up at him. “But, seriously, thank you.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “The light. The cat. Your general existence.”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, rocking on your heels. “What? You want me to be mean to you instead?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

You huffed, poking his arm playfully. “Fine. You’re insufferable.”

“And?”

You squinted at him. “Fucked in the head.”

“Keep going.”

“A literal nightmare of a human being.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

You shook your head, still smiling as you rolled the keychain between your fingers. The apartment felt good in that moment—warm, safe, a little less suffocating than usual.

And Niragi… he wasn’t soft, not really. But every once in a while, when he thought you weren’t paying attention, he did things like this.

He didn’t have to fix the light. Didn’t have to bring you anything. And yet, here you were, under a warm glow, holding a tiny plastic cat in your hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

You glanced up at him again, watching as he pretended he wasn’t watching you.

“…I really do love it.” you said softly.

Niragi clicked his tongue, looking away. “Yeah, yeah.”

You could see it—the slightest tension in his jaw, the way he shifted his weight, the way his lips twitched just barely at the edges.

He liked that you liked it. And that? That made your chest feel a little weird, too.

Niragi side-eyed you, watching the way your lips curled up slightly, how you kept flipping it over like you expected to find something new. It was so stupidly cute, he almost wanted to snatch it back just to see you pout.

“Anyways, I have to go out tonight.” you said casually.

Niragi’s brow twitched. “What?”

“For restocking.” you clarified, slipping the keychain into your pocket. “We’re running low on some stuff, so I have to—”

“Are you kidding me?” Niragi groaned, tilting his head back in frustration. “Now you say this?”

You blinked at him. “…Yeah?”

His eye twitched. “You could’ve told me earlier, and I just would’ve gone with you then. Instead, I went out in the middle of the fucking day—for lightbulbs.”

You grinned. “And you did a great job.”

“Fuck off.”

You laughed as he ran a hand down his face.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” you teased. “Look at it this way—at least you got to enjoy a nice, peaceful trip without my constant chattering.”

Niragi shot you a look. “Yeah, I hated it.”

You smirked. “Aww, you missed me?”

He clicked his tongue, glancing away. “Shut up.”

You giggled, opening one of the cabinets to take inventory of what you needed. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me tonight.”

He scoffed. “Like that was even a question.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “So that’s a yes?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Obviously. You think I’m just gonna let you go out there alone?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I have gone alone before, you know.”

He snorted. “Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?”

You hesitated. Okay, so maybe there had been a few close calls. Not anything you couldn’t handle, but still.

Niragi smirked, catching your hesitation. “Exactly.” he drawled. “You’re a fucking magnet for trouble.”

You pouted. “Am not.”

“Are too.” he shot back. “You could walk into an empty fucking alley, and I guarantee you’d still manage to find some kind of bullshit waiting for you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like I try to get into trouble.”

Niragi leaned against the counter, grinning lazily. “Oh, you definitely do.”

“Whatever.” you muttered. “Just be ready to go after dark.”

He scoffed. “Like I wouldn’t be.”

You smiled as you turned back to the cabinets. Even with all his bitching, you knew he didn’t really mind. If anything, he liked having an excuse to go with you.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

~

The streets were eerily empty. Broken glass, torn banners, and abandoned cars lined the roads, all remnants of a world that didn’t exist anymore. The city felt like a ghost—hollow, still, waiting for something that was never going to come.

“You literally could’ve warned me.” you huffed, shaking your head as you nudged Niragi’s arm.

He grinned, swinging the flashlight lazily at the ground in front of him. “Oh, where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun,” you deadpanned. “would’ve been me not stepping into a fucking pothole.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh. “You should’ve been watching where you were going.”

“You were leading!”

“And?”

You groaned dramatically. “God, you are insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he muttered, flashing the light in your face briefly before you smacked his arm.

“Hey!”

He snickered. “What? Just making sure you’re still awake.”

“You are so annoying.” you grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

Chishiya, who had been walking slightly behind you both, was silent as usual, watching. Listening. Niragi was good at pulling your attention away from everything else, keeping you focused only on him. It was his favorite thing to do.

But you—you were always aware of him, of everything. Even while bickering with Niragi, you still turned back, slowing your steps just slightly to look at him.

“Hey, Chishiya, look at this.” you said suddenly, crouching down beside an overgrown crack in the pavement.

He raised an eyebrow as you reached out, carefully plucking a tiny flower growing stubbornly between the slabs of broken concrete.

“It’s so cute.” you said softly, twirling the delicate stem between your fingers.

Chishiya didn’t say anything, just studied you, the way your lips curled up slightly, the way your fingers were careful, gentle.

You held it out to him, grinning. “Here, for you.”

Chishiya blinked, then exhaled. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You pouted dramatically, standing up. “Appreciate it, obviously.”

Niragi clicked his tongue. “Tch. Are you seriously giving him some shitty little weed?”

You turned back to him, still smiling. “It’s not a weed. It’s a flower.”

“It’s ugly.”

“You’re ugly.” you shot back.

Niragi smirked. “You wish.”

You ignored him, turning back to Chishiya, who just sighed and took the flower from your hand, twirling it between his fingers for a second before tucking it into his pocket.

Satisfied, you beamed before returning to Niragi’s side.

“Finally.” he grumbled. “I thought I lost you to the nerd back there.”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He swung the flashlight toward your legs, tapping your thigh with it. “That’s mine, by the way.”

“What?”

He poked you again. “The flashlight. It’s mine.”

“I found it first.”

“Yeah? And who’s holding it?” He waved it in your face.

You huffed. “You stole it.”

“Finders keepers, baby.”

“That is not how that works!”

“It is now.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “You are such a child.”

“You’re following me around like a lost puppy.” he teased, flashing the light at the ground ahead of you.

You kicked at the back of his leg lightly. “Shut up.”

Chishiya watched you both, hands in his pockets as he walked a few steps behind, letting Niragi soak in all of your attention—for now. But he noticed things. The way Niragi was always just slightly closer than necessary, how his hand hovered near yours even though he never reached for it, how he used the flashlight to poke you just to get any kind of reaction.

He wanted you all to himself.

Chishiya let a small smirk pull at his lips. How predictable.

You, completely oblivious to the silent battle happening behind your back, turned your attention forward, eyes scanning the abandoned stores up ahead.

Niragi sticked out his foot in the middle of one of your steps.

You didn’t even have time to react before your balance tilted forward, and with a sharp gasp, you stumbled. But before you could fall, you caught yourself, spinning around to face him with wide, betrayed eyes.

“You bitch!” you gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Niragi burst into laughter, throwing his head back as he clutched his stomach. “Oh my god—your face—!”

“You tripped me!”

“Yeah? And?”

Before he could react, you swung your leg out, aiming to knock his foot from under him the same way he did to you. But Niragi was quick—annoyingly quick. He sidestepped easily, grinning down at you like he knew you were too slow for him.

You huffed, planting your hands on your hips. “Coward.”

“Loser.”

Wit a growl of frustration, you tried again, stepping closer to kick at his ankle—but Niragi was already ready for it. He reached out this time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward just enough to throw you off balance instead. Your feet scrambled against the cracked pavement before you caught yourself again, but it was too late. Niragi was already dying of laughter.

You launched yourself at him, tackling him with all the force you could manage, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling as hard as you could.

He stumbled, caught off guard, his laughter cutting short as he struggled to keep his balance. “Hey—!”

But you didn’t let up, using all of your weight to keep pulling him off center—until finally, his foot hit an uneven part of the sidewalk, and he went down.

Hard.

The second his back hit the ground, you jumped back, throwing your arms in the air like you had just won a wrestling match. “HAH!”

Niragi groaned from the ground, blinking up at the dark sky. “What the fuck?”

“You deserved that!” you said proudly, grinning down at him. “That’s what you get!”

But before you could bask in your victory for too long, Niragi reached out and hooked his arm around your ankle, yanking hard.

And just like that, you were falling too.

You landed with a loud oof, your back hitting the pavement right next to him.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

And then you lost it. Laughter bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in bright, gasping giggles that you couldn’t stop. You turned your head to look at him, and Niragi was laughing too, chest shaking as he sucked in sharp breaths between each laugh.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid.

But god, it felt good.

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling, turning onto your side to look at him fully. Niragi did the same, facing you with a shit-eating grin that matched yours.

“You suck.” you wheezed.

“You suck.” he shot back, nudging you with his knee.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Chishiya, watching all of this from a few steps behind, felt something sharp twist inside his chest.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

Not just at the fact that Niragi was the one next to you, making you laugh so hard you were crying—but at the fact that you were happy.

If you and Niragi were capable of feeling happiness in this miserable fucking world, then why couldn’t he?

His eyes lingered on you, watching the way you reached out to push Niragi’s shoulder, the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled so hard it nearly hurt.

And he wondered—if he was the one by your side, making you laugh, making you smile like that…

Would he be happy too?

Would he even know what happiness felt like?

He shoved the thought away stepping closer. “Are you two done rolling around in the dirt, or should I come back later?”

You turned your head, still giggling as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You’re just mad you weren’t invited.”

Chishiya let out a small huff, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hardly.”

Niragi sat up, stretching his arms behind his head as he grinned. “Yeah? ‘Cause I think you are.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. He just looked at you, still lying on the pavement with flushed cheeks and a bright, glowing expression.

And yeah, maybe he was jealous.

He turned on his heel and started walking, making it clear he wasn’t waiting for either of you.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking prick.” he muttered, standing up and dusting off his pants before reaching a hand down to you.

Still giggling, you took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you up in one smooth motion. “Thanks.”

He just clicked his tongue, like he didn’t care, but his grip lingered a little longer than necessary before he let go.

The second you were on your feet, you took off—practically sprinting after Chishiya.

“Hey, wait up!” you called, running to catch up to his side. “Why are you walking so fast?”

Chishiya kept his eyes forward, jaw tight. “Didn’t realize we were stopping for playtime.”

You huffed, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Oh, please. You know you liked watching us fight to the death.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “I don���t see how attempting to kill each other on the pavement is a good use of time.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” you teased, nudging him again.

He sighed through his nose. He couldn’t be mad at you like this, could he?

You, with your bright eyes and your breathless smile, so full of energy even in this dead city. You, who had just spent minutes rolling around on the pavement, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, and still had the nerve to come bouncing up to him as if he hadn’t spent the entire time stewing in jealousy.

No.

He could never be angry at you.

“Come on.” you whined, looping your arm through his without a second thought. “Don’t be grumpy. You get to walk with me, isn’t that a privilege?”

Chishiya arched a brow. “A privilege?”

“Yes.” you said seriously. “An honor, actually.”

He scoffed, but he didn’t pull away.

Behind you, Niragi made a disgusted noise. “Gross.” he muttered, dragging his feet as he followed. “You’re gross. Both of you.”

You just giggled, squeezing Chishiya’s arm before letting go.

And as much as he didn’t want to admit it—he kind of missed the warmth of you next to him the second you did.

Niragi had his flashlight in hand, lazily swinging it back and forth, not even bothering to aim it at the road ahead.

Before he could react, you lunged forward and flicked the flashlight beam directly into his face.

Niragi hissed, throwing an arm up to shield himself. “What the fuck?”

You snorted, holding back laughter as you kept the light steady on him. He flicked his own flashlight at you, shining it right into your eyes in retaliation.

“AHH!” you shrieked, flailing back dramatically. “Niragi! That’s cheating!”

“Cheating? You started it, dumbass.”

“You’re supposed to accept my attack like a noble warrior—”

“You blinded me, not stabbed me with a sword, you fucking idiot.” he snorted, but there was no real malice in his tone.

You giggled and swung the flashlight up again, flashing it right in his face. “Bam!”

“Fucking—” Niragi barely flinched this time before shining his right back at you.

For a few seconds, it was nothing but the two of you flicking lights at each other’s faces, stepping back and forth, cackling like children. Niragi was determined to win somehow, even though there were no real rules, and you were just thrilled at the fact that he was playing along.

Chishiya was still walking, hands in his pockets, not looking at you two.

He told himself it was annoying. Told himself it was a waste of time. You were in the middle of a dead city, risking your lives just by stepping outside, and instead of being serious, you were fucking around.

But his fingers twitched in his pockets.

Because he knew that wasn’t really why his chest felt tight.

It was you.

The way you laughed, bright and breathless, unbothered by everything. The way Niragi grinned at you, softer than usual. The way you looked at each other like you were actually happy, like you were living in a world that wasn’t already doomed.

And Chishiya hated that it wasn’t him making you smile like that.

He had never cared before.

He didn’t like it.

And yet, he found himself slowing down, just slightly, turning around to watch you two play with those damn flashlights, trying to tell himself that none of this mattered.

Trying to convince himself that he didn’t want what you had with Niragi.

That he didn’t want you.

~

The door swung open, and the three of you stepped inside. The apartment was dim, barely lit by the yellow glow of the lightbulb Niragi had installed earlier, casting long shadows across the walls.

Niragi wasted no time tossing his gun onto the couch, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy groan. “Fuck.”

You set your things down on the counter, barely able to catch your breath between fits of laughter. “No, but seriously, you should’ve seen your face—”

“My face? What about yours?” Niragi shot back, jabbing a finger at you as he leaned against the counter beside you. His grin was wide, teeth glinting under the dim light. “You were the one who tripped and ate shit right into that pile of rubble—”

You doubled over, gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright. “Oh my god, Niragi, that was your fault! You pushed me!”

“Bullshit! You fell on your own.”

“I literally felt your foot hook around my ankle—”

“You’re making shit up.”

“You’re delusional—”

The two of you were practically in tears, shoulders shaking with laughter, voices bouncing off the walls of the apartment. It had been a long time since you felt this light—since you felt anything other than the crushing weight of survival. And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was reckless, but right now, you didn’t care.

Chishiya, however, was quiet.

He stood by the door, watching the two of you, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He had been silent the entire way home, but now, in the dim light of the apartment, that silence felt heavier.

BANG.

The sound cracked through the apartment like a whip, cutting through your laughter so sharply it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Your breath hitched in your throat as your entire body went rigid, the sound ringing in your ears.

Your eyes snapped to Chishiya.

Smoke curled from the barrel of Niragi’s gun, his fingers still wrapped around the trigger.

And then—slowly, with a sickening kind of horror—your gaze drifted to Niragi.

His body swayed, the color draining from his face, and for a second, it was like time had stopped. The sharp scent of gunpowder burned your nose, but all you could focus on was the way his lips parted in a breathless, disbelieving sound.

And then you saw it.

The dark stain blooming across his side. The way his fingers twitched as he reached down, pressing against the wound like he could somehow stop it from being real. His breathing came sharp and uneven, his body finally catching up to the pain.

Your stomach lurched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Chishiya shot Niragi.

❤︎︎ @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

[bueckersstuff]

PART IV

The room is thick with tension, the air so heavy it feels like it might crush you. Paige hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. She’s still staring down Azzi, jaw clenched, fists trembling at her sides. And then, finally, she exhales—slow, controlled, but you can feel the shift in her.

She’s done.

Paige straightens, rolling her shoulders back. Her voice is steady, but there’s a finality to it that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I pick her.”

Azzi’s smirk falters. She wasn’t expecting that. Her confidence cracks for a split second before she quickly masks it with a scoff. “You’re serious?”

Paige nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Azzi steps back, lips pressing together like she’s trying to hold something in—anger, disbelief, maybe even hurt. But you don’t feel sorry for her. Not after everything.

Paige turns to you, her expression softening in an instant. She reaches for your hand, threading her fingers through yours, holding on tight—like she’s making sure you don’t disappear. And in that moment, everything else fades.

Azzi clicks her tongue. “You’re making a mistake.”

Paige doesn’t even look at her when she responds. “Maybe. But at least it’s mine to make.”

Azzi doesn’t say another word. She just turns and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Paige just holds onto you, her thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles. Then she sighs, pressing her forehead against yours. “I’m gonna fix this.”

You shake your head. “Paige, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” Her voice is firm. “I’m not letting them paint you as some homewrecker. I should’ve ended things with Azzi sooner. I should’ve been honest. This is on me, not you.”

You swallow hard, because you know what this means. “How?”

Paige takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna do a press conference.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“I won’t name you,” she promises. “But I’ll set the record straight. Let them know that me and Azzi are done. That this—whatever this is—was never some scandal. I’m not letting them tear you apart over something that isn’t even your fault.”

It’s reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the way she says it, the way she looks at you like you’re something worth protecting—it makes your chest ache.

But not everyone is on board.

Paige insisted you accompany her to the meeting with her agent, Lindsay Kagawa Colas. You felt out of place, a silent observer in a world where decisions were made in boardrooms rather than on basketball courts.

As you entered the sleek office, Lindsay greeted both of you with a professional smile that didn't reach her eyes. She gestured for you to sit, her demeanor calm yet authoritative.

"Paige," Lindsay began, folding her hands on the polished table, "I've reviewed your proposal for the press conference. While I understand your desire to address the rumors, I must advise against it."

Paige's jaw tightened, but she remained composed. "I can't let these lies spread without addressing them. It's affecting not just me but those I care about."

Lindsay sighed, her gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to Paige. "I understand your frustration, but going public could jeopardize your endorsements and future career prospects, especially with the WNBA draft approaching."

Paige's eyes flashed with determination. "So, I should just stay silent while my personal life is dissected and misrepresented?"

“You are not doing a press conference.”

Paige sits across from her in her office, hands gripping the arms of the chair, barely containing her frustration. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Lindsay pinches the bridge of her nose. “Paige, do you have any idea how bad this could get? You’re graduating this year. You’re going pro. The last thing you need is unnecessary drama. You cannot let this get bigger than it already is.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “It’s already big. My name is everywhere. And people are dragging her through the mud for something she didn’t even do.”

Lindsay leans forward. “And what do you think happens when you confirm the breakup? When you stand up there and make a speech? You think that just stops the rumors? You think that clears her name? No, Paige. It makes it worse. It makes you the villain.”

Paige shakes her head. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” Her voice is sharp, cutting. “And so does UConn. And so do your future sponsors. You cannot afford to do this.”

She’s about to argue, about to fight, but then Lindsay’s next words land like a gut punch.

“You think you’re protecting her?” she asks, voice quieter now. “You’re not. You’re making it harder for her, too. The more noise you make, the bigger target she becomes.”

Paige goes still.

Lindsay leaned forward, her expression softening. "I'm asking you to consider the bigger picture. Sometimes, silence is the best response."

The tension in the room was palpable. Paige's fists clenched on her lap, her knuckles white. You wanted to reach out, to offer some comfort, but you remained still, knowing this was her battle to fight.

After a long pause, Paige nodded curtly. "I'll think about it."

Lindsay offered a tight-lipped smile. "That's all I ask."

As you left the office, Paige's silence was deafening. You could see the conflict raging within her—the desire to protect you clashing with the reality of her career's demands.

The following day, you received an unexpected summon to Coach Auriemma's office. Your heart pounded as you made your way there, anxiety gnawing at your insides.

You’ve never been in his office before, but it feels suffocating. He sits behind his desk, hands folded, gaze unreadable. When you enter, he gestures for you to sit, and you do, heart hammering in your chest.

“I’m not gonna dance around it,” he starts, his tone firm but not unkind. “I know what’s going on.”

Your stomach knots. “Sir, I—”

He holds up a hand. “I don’t care about the rumors. I care about Paige. And I care about what’s best for her.”

You bite your lip. “And you think I’m… not?”

Coach Auriemma exhales. “I think Paige is a damn good player with a future ahead of her. A future that’s already under a microscope. And if she does this press conference, if she makes a spectacle out of it, it could cost her.”

Your throat tightens. “I never asked her to—”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off. “And that’s the problem. Paige doesn’t care about the consequences. She’s ready to burn the whole thing down for you.”

You blink. “She… she said that?”

He leans forward. “She doesn’t have to. I see it. And as much as I admire that kind of loyalty, it’s dangerous. For her. And for you.”

You look away, because he’s right. Paige is reckless with her heart. With the things she loves. And right now, that’s you.

Coach Auriemma sighs. “You want to protect her, right?”

You nod. “More than anything.”

“Then step back,” he says simply. “At least for now. Let her finish this season. Let her go pro without this weight on her shoulders.”

Your breath catches. The idea of stepping back, of putting distance between you and Paige again—it hurts. More than you can explain.

And yet.

“Think about it,” Coach Auriemma says, his voice softer now. “Because if you love her, you won’t let her throw everything away for something that can wait.”

Can it, though?

That’s the question that eats away at you as you leave his office, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a storm cloud that won’t go away.

You don’t tell Paige about your conversation with Coach Auriemma.

Not because you don’t want to—but because you don’t know how. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and you’re not ready for that. Not yet.

The weight of his words lingers in your chest, heavier with every passing hour.

Step back. Let her finish the season. Let her go pro without this weight on her shoulders.

It makes sense. It makes so much sense that it hurts.

And maybe that’s why you decide to do something drastic.

Thanksgiving break is coming up. A perfect excuse. A perfect escape.

You’re packed before you even realize what you’re doing. The duffel bag sits at the foot of your bed, unzipped, stuffed with just enough clothes to last you the trip back home to Minnesota. You tell yourself it’s just for the break. Just some time to breathe. To think.

To be selfish for once.

You don’t tell Paige. You don’t tell anyone.

Because if you do, they’ll stop you.

You slip out of the dorm just as the sky begins to darken, hoodie pulled over your head, footsteps light against the pavement. The air is crisp, biting at your exposed skin, but you barely feel it. Your heart is pounding too hard.

You make it to the parking lot without incident, fingers shaking as you tighten your grip on your bag. Just a little further. Just a few more steps and—

“Where the hell are you going?”

You freeze.

Nika.

She’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowed in suspicion. Her gaze flickers to your bag, and then back to your face. “You running away or something?”

You exhale sharply, shoulders slumping. There’s no use lying. Not to her.

“I’m going home for break,” you admit.

Her expression doesn’t change. “And you were just gonna disappear without telling anyone?”

You swallow hard. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” she challenges, stepping closer. “Because last time I checked, Paige has been glued to your side. She’s fighting the entire damn world for you. And you’re just leaving?”

Your chest tightens. “She doesn’t need to fight for me,” you murmur. “She needs to focus on basketball. On her future. And I…” Your voice wavers. “I just need a second to breathe.”

Nika studies you, and for the first time, her tough exterior cracks just a little. She sees it—the exhaustion, the weight of it all pressing down on you.

“What happened?” she asks, softer this time.

You hesitate. But then the words spill out before you can stop them. “Coach Auriemma called me into his office. He told me it would be better for Paige’s career if I… if I stepped back. At least for now.”

Nika doesn’t say anything right away. Her jaw tightens, and her hands curl into fists at her sides. She looks ready to march into his office and cuss him out, but then she sighs, shaking her head. “And you just listened to him?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” you whisper. “She’s risking everything, Nika. Her future, her reputation… all for me. I can’t be the reason she loses it all.”

Nika’s quiet for a long time. And then she nods. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

“I won’t stop you,” she says. “If you need to go, go.”

A lump forms in your throat. “Thank you.”

“But,” she adds, fixing you with a sharp look. “You have to let Paige fix her own mess.”

Your stomach twists. “Nika—”

“She’s a big girl,” she interrupts. “And yeah, maybe she’s been reckless, maybe she’s been making dumbass decisions, but that’s on her. Not you. You don’t get to carry all of this by yourself.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how to.

Nika exhales, running a hand through her hair. “I won’t tell Paige,” she promises. “But you owe it to her to talk when you come back.”

You nod slowly, chest aching. “I know.”

She studies you for another moment before sighing and stepping back. “Go, then. Before I change my mind.”

You don’t waste another second.

As you slip into the backseat of the Uber waiting to take you to the airport, you press your forehead against the window, watching as the campus fades from view.

You don’t know what awaits you back home. All you know is that, for the first time in a long time, you’re letting yourself take a break.

Even if it breaks you in the process.

The cold air bites at your skin as you sit outside your childhood home in Minnesota, staring at the phone screen that hasn’t stopped lighting up. Paige’s name dominates the notifications—calls, messages, voicemails. You haven’t responded to a single one.

You squeeze the phone in your hand, heart heavy with guilt. She’s done nothing wrong, and yet you’ve left her to suffer. Coach Auriemma’s words still echo in your mind.

If you love her, you won’t let her throw everything away for something that can wait.

But was disappearing really the right thing to do?

The vibration of your phone startles you, and this time, it’s Nika. You hesitate before finally picking up.

“Are you still at home?” she asks, sounding so tensed.

Your breath catches. “Nika—”

“She’s losing it,” Nika cuts you off, her voice sharp with urgency. “Like actually losing it. You need to hear this.”

Your stomach clenches, but you stay silent, gripping the phone tighter.

“She’s been a wreck ever since you left. Coach ripped into her and Azzi during practice. Called them out in front of everyone. Said their personal drama was a distraction to the team and that if they didn’t get their heads straight, they could both sit on the damn bench for all he cared.”

You close your eyes, already picturing the scene. Their coach doesn’t play around, especially when it comes to his team’s focus.

“But that’s not even the worst part,” Nika continues. “He mentioned you.”

Your eyes snap open. “What?”

“He was pissed and let it slip that you were part of the mess. Paige went stiff as a board. You should’ve seen her face. She asked what he meant, and he actually told her he spoke to you.”

Your breath falters. “What did she say?”

“She freaked out, obviously. Kept asking what he said to you, but Coach wouldn’t tell her. Just said he ‘advised’ you on what’s best.”

You rub a hand over your face. Shit.

“After that, I knew that she started calling you like crazy. She hasn’t stopped. She’s barely talking to anyone. Barely eating, dude. I tried to tell her you probably just needed space, but she’s convinced you left because of her.”

Guilt twists like a knife in your chest. You can hear Nika sigh on the other end. “Look, I get why you left. But this? This is killing her.”

You don’t say anything, because what can you say? That you knew this would happen? That you left to spare her, only to end up hurting her more?

Nika sighs again, softer this time. “She keeps updating you, doesn’t she?”

Your throat tightens. Yeah.

Paige has been sending messages non-stop. Long ones, short ones. Some begging, some demanding. Others just saying she misses you. That she doesn’t understand. That she needs to see you.

She’s unraveling.

Nika’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Just—just let me know if you’re coming back, okay? She needs to know you’re not gone forever.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare at the latest message from Paige, your vision blurring as you read her words.

Please just tell me if you’re okay. If you don’t want me to call anymore, I’ll stop. Just… I need to know if you’re okay.

Your hands shake as you lock your phone and press it against your forehead, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You thought leaving would be the best way to protect her.

But now, you’re not so sure.

You’re pulled from sleep by the constant buzzing of your phone. The screen glows in the darkness, illuminating the room in short, erratic bursts. Blinking against the haze of sleep, you reach for it, squinting at the overwhelming flood of notifications.

Your heart stops when you see Paige’s name.

She posted on Instagram.

A photo. No—several. A collage, old memories spilling into the present. Your childhood together. Your high school days. The candid shots of laughter, inside jokes captured in pixels. And then, the recent ones—the ones taken in the past few months, the ones you thought no one else had noticed. A soft look she gave you after practice, your hands nearly brushing at a coffee shop, a blurred shot of you both standing too close at some party. It’s all there. Laid out for the world to see.

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as you read the caption.

Some people are just part of your soul. No matter how much time passes, no matter how many things change, they’re always there. Even when you lose them. Even when you’re the reason they’re gone.

It’s the kind of post that sounds more like a confession than an appreciation. And people are noticing. The comments are blowing up, theories forming faster than you can process them.

— Why does this sound like a breakup post???

— Wait… is she talking about Azzi or…?

— Who is this mystery person??

— Oh my god, the way she looks at her in these pics.

Your stomach churns. Then you see it.

Someone from back home. Someone who knows you and Paige.

— Before Azzi, it was always them. They go way back, trust me.

And people are buying it.

Your notifications spike—friend requests, follows, people digging, trying to put pieces together. Your stomach twists as you scroll, anxiety flooding your veins. This is getting too big.

And then, the final nail in the coffin.

A comment, posted just three minutes ago.

— Good to know you're still friends with each other, Paige. I just bumped into her this morning, still so charming and sweet.

Your blood runs cold. That's your high school classmate who actually lives here in Minnesota!

And then, Paige’s reply. It's the only comment she actually replied to.

— Thank you.

Just one minute ago.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Thank you.

Thank you for what? The compliment? The nostalgia? Or—

Or the clue of where you are?

“Fuck.”

Your hands are shaking as you stare at the screen, heart pounding so hard it drowns out all rational thought. And then, your phone dings.

Paige: I know where you are, baby. I’m coming to get you.

Your eyes snap to the clock. 4:00 AM.

You don’t know when she’s going to show up.

But you know one thing for sure.

You’re so, so doomed.

A featherlight touch tickles your ear, a sensation so faint it almost feels like a dream. Then, another—a ghosting touch against your cheek. You stir, shifting under the warmth of the blankets, but then you feel it again.

Something—someone—is here.

Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused, and the first thing you see is Paige, perched on the edge of your bed, smiling down at you. But it’s not her usual smile. It’s a sad one, fragile and worn, like she’s been crying. Like she’s barely holding herself together.

"Why did you leave me?" she whispers, voice small, almost broken. "I got so scared."

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in her eyes. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. There’s so much you want to say, but you don’t even know where to begin.

Paige exhales shakily, blinking rapidly. "I thought I lost you. For real. I called. I texted. I had no idea where you were, and it drove me insane. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep—I just kept thinking, what if you weren’t coming back? What if I really ruined everything?"

You sit up, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Paige, I—"

"I know why you did it," she cuts in, her voice stronger now, but still laced with pain. "Nika told me everything. That you thought it was for the best. That you were trying to protect me. But, baby, you leaving? That didn’t protect me. It destroyed me."

Your breath catches. Paige’s fingers find yours, squeezing tight, almost desperate. "I don’t need protecting from you," she continues. "I need you. I don’t care what Coach Geno says, or what Lindsay thinks, or what the world expects from me. I only care about you. So don’t ever—ever—do that to me again."

Tears well in your eyes as you cup her face, thumbs brushing over the damp trails on her cheeks. "I just… I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to hold you back, Paige. I didn’t want to be the reason you lost everything."

Paige shakes her head, shifting closer until her forehead presses against yours. "You are everything."

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break. The next thing you know, Paige is kissing you, and it’s different from before—it’s raw, emotional, relieving. Her hands are in your hair, yours are gripping the fabric of her hoodie like she might disappear again if you let go. The taste of salt lingers on your lips, but you don’t know if it’s from her tears or yours.

You don’t pull away until you're breathless, foreheads still pressed together. Paige lets out a shaky laugh. "God, I missed you."

You laugh too, watery and soft. "I missed you more."

She grins, bumping her nose against yours. "Impossible."

Breakfast with your parents is warm, filled with laughter and lingering touches under the table. Paige is her usual charming self, but there’s a tenderness in the way she looks at you, in the way she talks about you to your family—like she wants them to know just how much she cherishes you. And they do. They see it.

Your mom smirks when Paige clears both your plates before you even finish your first. "Still stealing food off her plate, huh?"

Paige grins sheepishly. "Can you blame me? She always get the best bites."

Your dad chuckles. "Some things never change."

And for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

Later in the afternoon, Paige takes you to her house. You hesitate when she pulls into the driveway, but she just laces her fingers with yours, squeezing reassuringly. "I wanted to see you first before coming home," she says softly. "That’s how important you are to me."

The words settle in your chest, warm and deep.

Inside, her family welcomes you with open arms. They tease Paige endlessly, making comments about how she’s been sidetracked before (Azzi, though no one outright says her name), but they knew—they always knew.

"She just got a little lost," her mom says with a wink. "But she found her way back."

Paige groans. "You guys are the worst."

Her younger siblings giggle, throwing in their own commentary about how she was always different when you were around—happier, lighter. It makes you wonder how long everyone had seen it before either of you did.

And then, in front of everyone, Paige clears her throat, looking straight at you. "I’m gonna court you properly this time. No games, no confusion. Just me, proving to you every day that you’re it for me."

Her dad whistles. "Bold move. I like it."

Your face burns, but you nod, heart thudding. "I’d like that."

She beams, and for a second, you forget everything else.

The evening is spent driving around old familiar places, reminiscing about childhood memories, seeing things in a different light now. Paige reaches for your hand at every stop, as if making sure you’re still real, still here. You are. And you’re not going anywhere.

But reality catches up fast.

Your phone buzzes—Nika. You answer, and before you can even say anything, she’s groaning. "Dude, where the hell is Paige? Coach Geno’s losing his damn mind."

Your stomach drops. "What?"

"He found out she flew to Minnesota. He’s pissed." Nika sighs. "You two need to get your asses back here ASAP. I booked a flight for Paige already. You coming back with her?"

You hesitate, but then you glance at Paige, who’s watching you with quiet expectation. Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll run again.

You take a breath. "Yeah. We’ll come back together."

Nika snorts. "Good. Because, uh, people already know who you are now, thanks to Paige’s stupid, drunken, emotional post. Might as well face the world together."

Paige cringes but grins at you, hopeful. "Together?"

You lace your fingers with hers. "Together."

And for the first time in a long time, that word doesn’t feel scary at all.

The flight back to UConn was quieter than expected. Paige held your hand the entire time, her thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if she was making sure you were still there. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her, but there was something steadier in her grip now—like she had made up her mind about something.

When you landed, reality hit. Paige pulled her hoodie up, trying to shield herself from the attention, but it was useless. Eyes followed you both through the airport, whispers rippling through the crowd like wildfire. People knew now. Maybe not the full story, but enough. The post she made, the comments, the theories—it had spiraled into something neither of you could control.

The second you stepped onto campus, you knew it was only a matter of time before you had to face everything you ran from. And it started with Geno.

Nika had given you both a warning text—He’s pissed, but not at you. Be ready.

You didn’t even get a chance to process that before you were being summoned to his office.

Geno Auriemma was pacing when you walked in, hands on his hips, muttering something under his breath. Paige straightened beside you, ready for whatever lecture was coming.

He stopped, looked between you two, then exhaled sharply. “Do you have any idea what kind of circus you’ve created?”

Paige lifted her chin. “I do.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed. “Because last I checked, you had a season to focus on. A future to protect. And instead, I’ve got reporters hounding me about your love life.”

Paige didn’t back down. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Geno crossed his arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re ready to blow up everything for the sake of proving a point.”

Paige’s grip on your hand tightened. “It’s not about proving a point. It’s about doing what’s right.”

Geno studied her, then you. His gaze softened, just a little. “Kid,” he said, directing it at you this time. “You really planning on sticking around for this?”

You swallowed, but your voice was steady. “If Paige wants me here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Geno sighed, rubbing his temples. “Then I hope you’re both ready for the firestorm that’s coming.”

The confrontation with Azzi was next.

You didn’t seek it out, but it found you anyway. In the gym, of all places, where she stood by the lockers, arms crossed, waiting.

“I figured you’d come crawling back eventually,” she said, voice sharp. “Didn’t expect Paige to drag you back herself, though.”

You stiffened, but before you could speak, Paige stepped forward. “I didn’t drag anyone anywhere.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked to her. “Really? So this isn’t just you making another impulsive decision? Risking everything for someone who ran the second things got hard?”

You flinched, but Paige’s response was instant. “She didn’t run. I pushed her away.”

Azzi scoffed. “Yeah? And what happens when it gets too much again? When the pressure crushes you? You're gonna push her away again? Or maybe find someone new to hold your hand?”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why are you here?” Azzi’s voice wavered just slightly. “To rub it in my face? To prove a point?”

Paige shook her head. “No. To end this.”

Azzi’s expression faltered. “It’s already over.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. And I should’ve ended it sooner. But I need you to know—this isn’t about you. It never was.”

Azzi’s eyes burned into yours, then back to Paige. For a second, she looked like she wanted to say something more. But then she just scoffed, turned, and walked away.

The media reaction was a whole different beast.

Some people loved the story. Childhood best friends reconnecting, fighting for love, defying expectations. Others? Not so much. Some still clung to Azzi, to the image of her and Paige together, painting you as the villain in a story you never asked to be part of.

But the tides were shifting. The more people dug, the more they learned about you and Paige’s history—how you’d been there long before the spotlight, long before the fame. Slowly, the narrative began to change.

One clip from an old high school interview resurfaced—a young Paige, smiling when asked about her best friend, talking about how you were the first person to believe in her dreams. It went viral overnight.

And then there was the final push.

Paige’s first official statement.

She didn’t hold a press conference like she originally wanted. Instead, she posted a video—a simple, unedited clip of her sitting in her dorm, looking straight into the camera.

“I never planned on my personal life being public,” she started. “But if people are going to talk, I’d rather they hear it from me.”

She took a breath. “Azzi and I are done. We ended things because it wasn’t working, and that’s the truth. And as for the rumors about me and—” She hesitated, then smiled slightly. “Her. I’m not gonna confirm or deny anything. But I will say this—I don’t regret a single thing.”

Paige paused, like she was choosing her next words carefully. “The people who’ve been here since the beginning, the ones who really know me, they know where my heart has always been.”

That was all she said. But it was enough.

The world could interpret it however they wanted. But you? You knew exactly what she meant.

And as you sat there, watching the video play out, you realized something.

This wasn’t just Paige fighting for you.

It was both of you, fighting for each other.

The return to UConn was chaotic, but somehow, you and Paige faced it together. The confrontation with Coach Auriemma had been tough—he wasn’t happy about the distractions, but after seeing how firm Paige was in her choice, he let it go. Azzi was another story. She had scoffed, feigned indifference, but you could see the bitterness in her eyes. However, over time, even she started to come around. One evening after practice, she pulled Paige aside and, though reluctant, admitted, “I just want you to be happy. And if that’s with her, then… I’ll deal with it.”

Nika? She just smirked, shaking her head. “Took you two long enough.”

The media had been relentless at first, but eventually, things started to shift. Paige’s history with you, your childhood friendship, the way you had always been in her life—it changed the narrative. The fans saw it too. Some still clung to the idea of her and Azzi, but most of them started to accept you. Even like you. And Paige? She made sure the world knew exactly where she stood—with you.

One evening, after a long day of classes and training, you and Paige found yourselves curled up on the couch in your shared apartment. The weight of everything was still there, lingering, but for the first time in weeks, it felt manageable.

Paige let out a sigh, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Come with me after I go pro.”

Your heart stilled. “Paige…”

“I mean it,” she said, pulling back to look at you. Her eyes were filled with something so raw, so desperate, it made your breath catch. “I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

You exhaled slowly, fingers tracing patterns on her arm. “I have dreams too, Paige. My own path. My own future.”

She nodded immediately. “I know. And I’d never ask you to give them up. But I won’t give you up either.”

You hesitated, because as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you had spent so much of your life trying to find your own way. You couldn’t just abandon that.

Sensing your turmoil, Paige cupped your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to finish my degree. I want to build something for myself. And I want you too, Paige. But I can’t follow you like a shadow. I need to stand on my own too.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then she nodded, determination settling in her expression. “Then we’ll build our life together. I’ll go wherever you go.”

Your breath hitched. “Paige, you—”

“I can play anywhere. I don’t have to be across the country. I don’t have to make this harder than it needs to be. We’ll figure it out, but I’m not leaving you behind.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Paige leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Months passed, and the world around you both continued to shift. Paige declared for the WNBA draft, and you stood by her side as she took that step into her future. She kept her promise—supporting you, making time for you, making sure you were part of her world.

And when the draft night came, when her name was called and she walked across that stage, she searched for you in the crowd, her eyes shining with tears and triumph. Later, when the cameras were off and the celebrations died down, she pulled you close, whispering against your lips, “We made it.”

You smiled, pressing your forehead to hers. “We did.”

The journey wasn’t perfect. There were challenges, moments of doubt, moments where the weight of it all felt unbearable. But through it all, one thing remained certain—Paige had chosen you. And you had chosen her, too.

In the months that followed, you both moved into a cozy apartment together, balancing her WNBA career with your own pursuits. Some nights, she came home exhausted from games, collapsing onto the couch with you, murmuring how grateful she was to have you by her side. Other nights, you stayed up late, working on your own dreams, with Paige curled up next to you, offering sleepy encouragement.

One day, as you both cooked dinner together, Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I don’t care where life takes us,” she murmured. “As long as we’re together.”

You turned, looking into her eyes, and smiled. “Always.”

And with that, the future no longer seemed uncertain.

It was yours—together.

[theseinfernalangels]

Fragile — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Mender!Reader comes back from RSC worse off than the rest of your squad. Sawyer is heartbroken and takes care of you.

A/N: I pumped this one out surprisingly fast! I may post my OC reference sheet after this for more context, since there are references to characters you haven’t met yet, such as Reader’s dragon, Cridhe, and Eden (Liam’s girl!). We’ll see how it turns out! I might even do a part two for this hehe.

Warning for mentions of blood, injuries, insecurities, and anxiety. Oh, yeah; don’t forget the dragon telepathy.

Sawyer knew something was up when you didn’t meet him outside the Gathering Hall. 

It wasn’t like you to be late for…Well, anything, much less seeing him. He certainly wasn’t an anxious person, but it made his fingers twitch with nervousness when he didn’t spot your cautious frame lingering close to the sides of the hall. He waited anyway. He’d always wait for you.

At the ten-minute mark, his thoughts began to race. He could understand if you stayed behind for a word with one of your professors – you were a genius, anyway. Perhaps you could have gone off-track to help another cadet in need of extra notes. That was just in your nature (even though Sawyer and Ridoc had tried to convince you to charge a couple coins for it – you’d be swimming in gold by now). Maybe you were in the infirmary with your friend…Eden, was it? Emily? He could barely remember.

But no. Another fifteen minutes slowly ticked by, and his reasonable side began to veer off a little. Maybe you’d been injured somehow. Maybe the other cadets had finally taken advantage of your anxious, gentle nature and were in the middle of ganging up on you. Maybe they’d finally gotten you – the Marked cadets who weren’t too fond of you for what your parents, Navarrian military legends, had done to them.

He heard Sliseag’s chiding voice resound in the back of his mind. Easy there, Ashling, he soothed. Do not worry too much. She is exactly where she is meant to be.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I would beg to differ, he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. If she was in the right place, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

The dragon snorted. Really, now? he mused. Look up.

Sawyer had just turned, his palms sweaty, when he saw a figure moving sluggishly in his peripherals. He squinted, then froze, the sight making his blood run cold.

You finally showed up…But you looked awful.

Damaged was the best word to describe it. Your hair was messy, your bangs falling in your face in a way it only looked after an intense flight. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the rest of your face was battered. Your bottom lip was split and bleeding, the blood oozing out sluggishly and staining your chin crimson. That was only your face; the rest of your body was probably just as bruised and injured.

Go, he heard Sliseag urge. Go to her now. She needs you, Ashling.

He broke out of his trance; he couldn’t run fast enough to get to you, his legs moving on what felt like autopilot. Gods. What did they do to you?

You held up a hand when he neared you. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. “I…It looks worse than it feels.”

Sliseag made a noise of disapproval in his mind. I doubt that.

Sawyer, in that moment, felt almost scared to touch you, as if putting his fingers anywhere would shatter you like glass.

Finally, he found his voice. “What the hell happened to you?” he murmured, wincing at how sick he sounded. His eyes traced your face; you still looked gorgeous as ever, but just looking at your good eye made his heart wrench.

“We,” you began, faltering as you fell forward a bit. Sawyer caught you with ease, splaying a hand on your back as you leaned into him. “We had RSC. I…I didn’t expect for it to be so…awful.”

You looked down, and Sawyer made a soft sound of protest as he lifted your chin back up to face his. Skies above, he thought. He’d seen you injured before, obviously – there was no avoiding that at Basgiath. But this…

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, ghosting a kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry. You…You haven’t been to the infirmary yet?”

You shook your head. “No. I saw a clock and remembered we agreed to meet up. Wanted to see you first.”

Oh, he thought. Damn you, you sweet, sweet girl. Damn you and your loveliness. 

He sighed quietly, glancing at the sky. It was getting close to dusk, which meant that the infirmary was probably winding down for the day. His gaze flitted back down to your trembling form, his heart aching.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound pushy. “I’m sure your friend is still there; she’d be willing–”

His voice trailed off when you vehemently shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “Not now. Can we…Can we just go to yours?”

At that moment, with you looking up at him hopefully, your good eye wide but exhausted, Sawyer would have given you just about anything. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too hard. “Of course, darling. Just hold on to me. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

The pained smile you gave him twists his heart. “I don’t, either.”

It took a little while, but the two of you finally made it to his dorm in relative silence, save for the pained gasps and whimpers that occasionally fell from your swollen lips. The whole time, Sawyer was clenching his teeth. It didn’t matter that RSC was something that happened to everyone – not even his injuries hadn’t looked this rough.

He sat you down gently on his bed. He didn’t want to leave you, not when you looked that beat up, but he pushed that aside to grab the little box of medical supplies you kept in his room for when he was beat up after sparring. If you weren’t huddled beside him looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you, he would have made a joke about it.

You’d already removed your jacket and shirt, leaving your torso bare save for the bindings you always wore. Sawyer relaxed for a moment before he took note of your ribs, black and blue bruising rippling up both sides. Save for that, though, and other bruising and – Gods forbid, handprints – you honestly didn’t look too terrible.

He brushed your bangs away from your face, tilting your chin up so he could assess the damage. “Have you tried mending yourself?”

You sighed, sounding almost disappointed in yourself. “No. I’ve never tried that, but it won’t work, anyway. I tried to mend Anya’s arm after it got dislocated, but it didn’t work. I’m either terrible with my signet, or the injury was too bad, or–”

He cut you off before you could delve deeper into self-doubt. “No,” he assured you, taking a wet rag and wiping the blood on your chin. “They tampered with your water. It’s supposed to dull your signet and cut you off from your dragon to feel more realistic.”

Your lips formed an O in realization. “So that’s why I couldn’t feel Cridhe,” you mumbled, hissing in pain once he actually touched your lip. “I got worried there for a while.”

He nodded, ducking his head lower to check the area around your neck. There was an angry red line around your throat; someone had tried to choke you, he assumed. Bastard.

“I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “When they took me, the serum didn’t wear off for about a day. I thought Sliseag randomly chose to hate me or something.”

The aforementioned scoffed softly. As if, Ashling, he muttered. I didn’t choose you just to leave you behind.

The words warmed Sawyer’s heart long enough that your silence didn’t bother him for the next few minutes while he looked you over.

He only paused when you spoke softly, your voice faint. “I…think I have a concussion,” you mumble. “The light hurts, and I’m dizzy.”

A tight-lipped smile fought its way onto Sawyer’s face. “Trust you to diagnose yourself barely an hour after it happens.”

You don’t respond, prompting Sawyer to lean back up and look into your eyes. Sure enough, your pupils were unfocused and exhausted. Smart girl.

He opened his mouth to make another little quip, only for it to die on his tongue once you leaned into his side.

“Tired?” he prompted you gently. A soft hum from you confirmed his suspicions, and he hesitated for a moment before relenting. He could carry you to Nolan or a healer in the morning, after you slept the night away.

He looked away for a moment, and you had somehow managed to snag a random shirt off his floor and slip it on. His eyes softened, and he reached over to help you out of your pants and under his covers. You looked so…unusually small in his bed, curled in on yourself like a flower without the sun to warm it. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to kick off his boots and leave himself in his undershirt as he settled next to you. You slowly unfurled from your tense position and rested your head on his chest. Pure bliss.

You both lay there in silence for what seemed like hours before Sawyer found his voice again, feeling weirdly sentimental. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Your silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “That’s okay. We don’t have to. Just…I hope you know that I’ll never let that happen to you when the time comes. Whoever it was, they’d have to kill me first to get to you.”

More silence from you. Sawyer thought for a moment that you fell asleep, but his eyes popped back open once he heard your weary voice.

“Sawyer?”

“Yes, darling?”

A beat. Two beats.

“Thank you for this. I didn’t want to be anywhere besides here.”

…You don’t have to thank me, he thinks, a pained smile tugging at his mouth. I’d do anything and more for you, anyway.

[asterafroditis]

hi!! I really enjoyed your asexual!yuu ficlet with Octavinelle and I wanted to request the same thing but with Leona?

thanks in advance if you do write this, but please feel no pressure to do so! :D

𐔌 . ⋮ love over lust .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Leona Kingscholar x asexual gn! reader

𓏵 400 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Leona has never been one to chase after fleeting desires. If he wants something, he takes it, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t waste his time. When you tell him you’re asexual, he barely reacts—just a slow blink and a lazy, “Yeah? And?” Like hell he’d care about something like that. If he’s chosen you, then that’s it. End of story.

But if you expect him to ask a bunch of questions or try to ‘understand’ it on a deeper level, you’ll be waiting a long time. Leona doesn’t need some grand explanation. He just takes you as you are. Still, his instincts are sharp, and if he ever senses that you’re feeling self-conscious or unsure about what you bring to the relationship, he doesn’t let it slide. He hates seeing you doubt yourself over something he never even saw as an issue.

“Tch. You think I’d waste my time with someone who wasn’t worth it? You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

Leona’s love is quiet but solid. He’s not the type to smother you with affection, but he’s there—a steady, reliable presence that makes it clear you never have to prove anything to him. He shows his feelings through actions rather than words: letting you nap against him, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you look cold, giving you the last piece of food off his plate without saying a word. He won’t change his personality for anyone, but if you pay attention, you’ll notice that you get a side of him no one else does.

When he pulls you into his arms, it’s never out of obligation. It’s because he wants to. When he rests his head in your lap, it’s not just because he’s tired—it’s because he trusts you enough to let his guard down. You don’t have to be anything more than yourself to deserve that.

If anyone ever dares to make you feel lesser for how you love, Leona will put them in their place before you even have the chance to react. He doesn’t tolerate anyone talking down to what’s his.

“People got too much to say about things that ain’t their damn business. You’re with me, herbivore. That’s enough.”

[rgwriteshockey]

the next step w/ luke hughes ⇒

luke hughes x gf!reader

summary: luke hughes gets drafted by the new jersey devils in 2021, but after michigan’s heartbreaking loss in the 2023 frozen four, he joins the devils for the remainder of the playoffs. as he navigates the nhl, his girlfriend y/n supports him from afar, and they make their long-distance relationship work.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: light angst

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★���━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

luke hughes had always dreamed of playing in the nhl. growing up with two older brothers, both of whom were incredibly talented hockey players, it felt like a given that one day he'd be skating on the same ice as them. but no one could have prepared him for how surreal it would feel, standing on the threshold of the nhl draft, knowing that his dream was about to become a reality.

it had been a tough season for the michigan wolverines. they had been one of the top teams in college hockey, and everyone expected them to make a deep run in the frozen four. but things didn’t go as planned. michigan had been knocked out by quinnipiac in a brutal 3-2 loss that left luke reeling. it felt like a punch to the gut. the game was over, and the season that had started with so much promise came to a heartbreaking end.

the locker room had been quiet as luke changed out of his gear, still processing the loss. he sat on the bench, his head in his hands, trying to push away the sting of the game. but even as his teammates comforted each other, his mind kept drifting back to y/n. his girlfriend of two years, who had been there for every game, every high and low. the thought of leaving her behind after this loss hit him harder than he expected.

after the game, y/n had texted him a few times, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer. he needed some space to process everything, and he wasn’t sure how to talk to her about it yet. he felt like he had let everyone down, especially her. she had been so supportive of his dreams, and now, here he was, standing on the edge of the next step, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

when he finally saw her later that night, sitting on the bench outside the rink, her usual bright smile was nowhere to be found. y/n was always there, always so supportive, but tonight, she looked tired. maybe it was the loss. maybe it was everything building up.

“hey,” luke said quietly as he sat down next to her.

“hey,” y/n replied, offering him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

they sat there in silence for a moment, watching the cars go by. luke didn’t know what to say. how could he explain everything he was feeling? how could he make her understand that this loss wasn’t just about hockey?

“you okay?” y/n asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah, just... it sucks,” luke replied, his voice rough. “we had it, you know? we were supposed to win. we had the talent. but we blew it.”

y/n nodded, understanding that the loss was eating at him. but she also knew something else was bothering him. she could see it in his eyes.

“you’re thinking about leaving, aren’t you?” she asked gently.

luke looked at her, his throat tight. “yeah... i have to. i mean, the nhl draft is coming up, and i know i can’t stay here forever. i’ve worked so hard to get here. but... i don’t want to leave you, y/n. i don’t know how to do this.”

y/n reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “i know it’s hard. but i’ve always known this was part of it. you’re going to be amazing, luke. and i’m proud of you. i’ll support you no matter where you go.”

“but... what about us?” luke’s voice cracked slightly as he asked, his chest tight. “i don’t want to leave you behind.”

“we’ll make it work,” y/n said, her tone full of confidence, even if her heart was breaking a little. “we’ve done long-distance before, right? and look, i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure it out. we always do.”

luke closed his eyes for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “i don’t know if i’m ready for this. i thought i was. but now, with the draft coming up, and everything else... it feels like too much.”

“it’s okay to feel unsure,” y/n said softly. “this is a huge change for both of us. i don’t have all the answers, but i know we’ll make it work, luke. we have to trust that.”

he looked at her, his heart full. “i just don’t want to lose you. i don’t want to miss out on what we have.”

“you won’t,” she said firmly. “i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

the words hung in the air between them, a promise, a quiet reassurance that no matter what happened, they were still in this together. but deep down, luke knew things were going to change. he had no choice but to follow his dream. but leaving y/n behind, even for a while, felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the days leading up to the draft were a blur. luke spent most of his time packing up his dorm room, talking with his family, and preparing for what was next. there was excitement, yes, but also a deep sense of sadness. leaving michigan meant leaving behind a place that had become his home. it meant saying goodbye to teammates who had become like brothers. and it meant leaving y/n behind.

the night before the draft, luke sat on his bed, scrolling through his phone, trying to distract himself from the nerves building in his stomach. y/n had sent him a few texts throughout the day, asking how he was doing, but he hadn’t had the energy to respond. he felt torn—he wanted to talk to her, wanted to tell her everything he was feeling, but at the same time, he didn’t know how to explain the whirlwind of emotions in his head.

finally, he called her. the phone rang a few times before she picked up, her voice soft and comforting.

“hey, you,” she said, a smile in her voice. “how are you?”

“i’m... i don’t know,” luke admitted, his voice sounding more vulnerable than he intended. “nervous, i guess. and sad. everything’s changing, y/n. i don’t know if i’m ready for this.”

“i know,” she said, her tone gentle. “but you’re ready, luke. you’ve worked your whole life for this. and yeah, it’s scary. but i believe in you. i always have.”

“but what about us?” luke asked, his voice cracking again. “what if it’s too much? what if we can’t make it work?”

“we will,” y/n said without hesitation. “we’ve got this, luke. i’m not going anywhere. i love you. i believe in you. and i’ll be here, no matter what.”

the words hung between them, and luke felt a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he was craving. in the midst of all the uncertainty, y/n’s words were a constant reminder of what really mattered. they had been through so much together already. this was just the next step.

“i love you, too,” luke said softly, his chest tight with emotion. “and i’ll make this work. i’ll make us work.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next day luke was sitting with tom fitzgerald, the devils general manager, and in front of him was his entry-level contract. jack was also in the room and couldn't contain his excitement, his little brother joining his nhl team.

the night was a blur of flashing cameras and interviews, but all he could think about was what would come next. it was time to begin the next chapter, to step into the professional world he had always dreamed of. but it also meant stepping away from the place he had called home for the past few years—and from y/n, the person who had been there for him through it all.

later that night, after the draft had ended and the excitement had settled, luke sat in his hotel room, texting y/n.

“i made it,” he typed. “i’m officially a devil.”

he stared at the screen, waiting for her reply. when it came, it was simple, but it made his heart swell.

“i’m so proud of you, luke. i knew you could do it. and i’ll always be here. no matter where you are, we’ll make this work. i promise.”

he smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. it wasn’t going to be easy, and things were definitely going to change, but they had made it this far. and with y/n’s support, he knew they could handle whatever came next.

it was the beginning of a new chapter. one he was ready to take on.

[airconditionertm]

Aemond x wife reader pillow talk

Summary: all y/n wants is just a sliver of warmth from her husband Aemond

CW: angst, arranged marriage, arguing

Word count: 1220

“May we speak Aemond before you leave “She pulls the sheets up to cover herself. Aemond was already getting dressed again. “ we can speak I suppose, “ he said bluntly. She took a deep breath “ I know that this marriage isn’t what you wanted and I cannot expect some great love, however I … I want us to have something at least some warmth some comfort anything “. Aemond sat up sharply “ I will do my duty to you as a husband nothing more, “ he said.

“Well isn’t it part of your duty to care for me … I’m a lady I have a need for these things, you can find it elsewhere with lovers and whores but I I can’t I am here away from home and my family and the only person I have is you yet you can’t show me even an ounce of warmth, I don’t want this for me I don’t want this for our future children “ she explained.

Aemond turned to look at her “You shouldn’t solely rely on me for .. warmth “ he said the word like its very syllables left poison on his tongue. Rising from the bed he left without another word.

——

“This is taking awfully long, “ he said exasperated. “I don’t understand people have children by accident!, yet it has been months of trying and I’m still no closer to an heir “. He sat up in frustration messy silver locks adorning his back. “It will happen when it will there’s nothing we can do nature has to take its course” y/n tried to calm him down gently untangling the hair on his back and sitting next to him. “ I just don’t understand why this is so difficult, “ he says.

“ well my mother always said that children will not be brought to an unhappy couple by the gods,” y/n said trying to catch his eye. “ seriously you want to make this about what you want again “ he recoiled from her touch. “ that is not how I meant it and it’s not just about me this clearly affecting you so you cannot tell me that this is what you want out of marriage “ she tried to move closer to him again . “ what I want out of this marriage is an heir! “ he yelled “ I don’t give a shit about grand romance and love and warmth, that was never meant for me “ he continued.

“ I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want “ she whispered standing up for the bed and grabbing her chemise . “ why is love not meant for you Aemond” she asked cautiously looking back at him before she left.

“ you have met me you know why, “ he said “ I’m a kin slayer, I am cruel and cold, and nobody but my family dares talk to me, I was simply not made to do this, we simply both need to do our duties and then the rest doesn’t matter, you cannot change who I am, so stay in your place and do your duty ” he demanded. “ well unfortunately shear dutifulness cannot conjure up a babe ” y/n yelled in return storming out of his chambers.

———

“Where have you been!” Aemond yelled as he found y/n in the gardens. “ here “ she said looking at a flower in her hand. “ You were supposed to be in my chambers I summoned you multiple times “ he yanked the flower from her hands. “ skipping one time won’t make a difference anyway “ she replied. “you have a duty to your husband and to the realm,” he said. “ and what of your duty to me !“ she stood up from her seat to face him. “I have fulfilled all my duties you have a home allowance staff anything you could wish for, “ he said looking straight at her . “ yes I have that but I don’t have the one thing I truly want a husband who cares for me why can’t you understand that this is a need for me” she stepped closer to him as tears welled in her eyes. the others in the garden could here their arguing and began to form a crowd. “ your making a scene “ he said grabbing her arm guiding her away from the crowd.

———

“So what is it you want from me what would make you feel the warmth you need” he had asked sitting up in the bed and getting ready to leave. “Well for a start not rushing away the second you're done bedding me would be nice…. It makes me feel like a common whore“ she said the last part more cautiously. “ I don’t intend to make you feel like that you’re my wife you should be able to feel pride in that “She gestured for him to lay back down which he did. “ you know we have never actually slept in the same bed “ she moved closer to him. “ that’s not too uncommon “ Aemond replied. “Why do you stay in my bed for so long after we lay together” he asked suddenly. “ laying down is supposed to help the seed take, I also like to lay in your bed it’s soft and it smells nice and it’s really the closest I can get to true intimacy with you, “ she said looking at him laying down. “I would consider laying together quite intimate “ he replied, she chuckled “ do you really consider what we do intimate, me laying in bed like a starfish while you.., it feels mechanical to me like it’s just another duty to you, “ she said. “ it is my duty, “ he said bluntly. “ I know but I simply wish you would want to do it and not force yourself, is it that I’m not enticing to you “ she spoke softly.

“ no you’re quite beautiful my lady it's just that I’m not one who enjoys this “ he replied avoiding her eye contact. “ then why do you go to brothels, “ she asked confused. “ I don’t go to brothels I go to one brothel where …. I pay for women to simply hold me, I know it is strange it’s…“he said quietly. “ it’s not strange you’re seeking warmth, what I don’t understand is why won’t you accept mine why do you pay another woman to hold you when I could do the same ” she reaches out to hold his hand. “ I’m your husband it’s not my role to seek comfort from you,” he said as he allowed her to hold his hand. “ marriage is more than a contract and a set of roles Aemond. I know you don’t love me but that doesn’t keep me from caring for you “She moved close to him squeezing his hand. He pulled her in closer she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his head in her chest listening intently to the rhythmic beating of her heart. The two stayed in silence holding each other as they lay in bed enveloped in each other's warmth.

[lv9su]

Everything inside me is stone.

Levi Ackerman x reader

I’ve wanted to write for him for so long this man is so fine💆🏾‍♀️ also this is based on the earlier seasons of aot

Age gap!!! Slightly toxic.. Angst, Forbidden Love (sorta) lots of sexual tension, always use of y/n, Levi being stubborn and you being stubborn back. 💋

~

Right now you weren’t in a.. strange predicament. Were you on top of Eren on the training grounds? Yes, but not in the way you might think. Why? Because you paired up for sparring, and you were very annoyed before this session started.

Let’s take it back to the reason why. The last conversation you had before everyone met for training. Maybe the word argument would be more fitted.

“Why do you keep on pushing me away?” You asked, getting frustrated at the sight of Levi getting out of the bed, cleaning the room you two had left a mess and finding clothes to get dressed. But you were having none of it.

“I’m not pushing you away, I’m protecting you.” Levi said, his back turned to you.

“Yes you are!? You know I can protect myself? You don’t need to isolate yourself from me.” Your voice began raising.

“I’m not the right person for you y/n. Since you’re so smart you should understand the risks of us! Whatever this is.” He turned around, pointing his finger between the both of you. He was self sabotaging because he felt you could do better than an older emotionally scarred man who just so happens to be the leader of your squad.

You felt the anger rise inside, and sure you could’ve screamed and yelled in his dumb face for saying what he said. Instead you were so angry tears pooled in your eyes, and you tried to hide it. Messily putting on your clothes you mumbled enough for him, to aggravated to speak normally.

“Fine.” You pulled on your white jeans.

“Whatever.” You began buttoning up your shirt.

“Just fuck off.” You hissed as his hands reached to help you button up since you being frantic.

You put on your socks and boots, the rest of your uniform in your room. “Leave me alone.”

He knew he’d fucked up. But seeing tears in your eyes, and your bottom lip quivering, he realised that was something he never wanted to see.

But why? It was so wrong. But when it was just the two of you it was so right.

It all started one drunken night three months ago began a kind of relationship you would’ve never ever expected to happen with Levi. Ackerman. Your. Captain.

I mean sure you always found him attractive, and he seemed to tolerate you more than anyone else in your scout group. He definitely did call you a Brat pretty much every day, but he didn’t ever insult you. Everyone else figured it was just favouritism when he’d tell everyone to fuck off and figure out their own shit except when it came to you he spoke in a normal tone. Needed help with the gear? He’d be behind you, guiding your arms and showing you what to do. Wanted to spar with him? He’d teach you new moves and would be very physical but not enough to hurt you, just for the sake of touch. You were thirsty? He’d make tea for the both of you. And so on.

You pretended to be oblivious to all of this, but in your mind you couldn’t help but daydream and zone out imagining what it’d be like with him.

“Thinking about the captain” Sasha nudged your arm as your hand rested on your face. She giggled as she sipped her alcoholic beverage. Yes, would absolutely were.

“No!!!! Shut up.” You slightly chuckled and rolled your eyes, as you began drinking a little more.

“Y’know y/n, if you change your mind and want someone your own age im your perfect match.” Jean winked at you, slurring his words and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“You need to sit down.” You grinned at the sight, standing up and sitting him down where you were sat.

You walked out of the tavern and sat outside in the dark, kissed by the moonlight and wrapped around the late night breeze of the summer. Everyone was here celebrating the recent mission, less people killed by titans and an increase in the titans being killed. That’s what it’s all about right? Until the next mission there’d most likely be some intense training so the plan was to try and have some fun while you still could.

“I’m surprised you’re with that lanky piece of shit. Out of everyone.” You heard from behind, not needing to look behind since you recognised the voice right away. He sat beside you, and you hummed questioningly.

“Tch don’t play dumb brat. Jean. The lanky horse-” you laughed and cut him off.

“I’m not with Jean. And it seems, someone was stalking me.” You smirk, speaking with the liquid confidence.

“I’m taking you back to headquarters. You’ve had too much to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you.

When you got back, one thing led to another and the next morning you were tangled in his sheets naked. Before you woke he left to make tea, except you woke while he was gone and assumed he’d just left. So you did too. And when he saw you were gone from his room he realised you might’ve thought it was a mistake. But he couldn’t blame you if you did.. he was older, there was a pretty big power dynamic and he came to the conclusion that is was for the good that he was alone. If he formed an emotional attachment there was always the chance he could lose you.

But you ignoring him? He didn’t like that. He tolerated 1 day of being ignored by you before he hollered you into his office and well.. let’s just say this time you were both sober when you did it.

After that you both said that it wouldn’t continue.. but it did. More often than not. You had fucked in his office, his room, your room, the stables, in the shower, in the forest and empty rooms. But as much as there was lust, there was sweet moments that were dates in disguise. Long talks, walks, rides, play fights, sparring in feilds and then having a picnic, slow dances and admiration. But hey what was more romantic than slaying titans together.

Back in the present.

“Cmon y/n, are you even trying?” Eren mocked as the two of you sparred, except you were thinking about the argument you’d had with him this morning.

So after a swift kick to the legs - which Levi taught you how to do - dropping him to the floor within seconds. And in that amount of time you’d began throwing punch after punch after punch. Poor eren. Too bad he underestimated you at a time like this.

“OKAY MISSY!!” Hange shouted in a high pitched voice as she grabbed the back of your arms and pulled you off of him. “You doin’ okay up there sweets?” She raised a brow moving closer to your face and tapping your head. You nodded and she rubbed your arm before you walked away.

Levi watched you the whole entire time.

Hange walked back over to where they sat. “You outta go get your girl short stack.” She smirked.

He went silent for a second, unsure of how to respond “what’re you talking about four eyes.”

“Oh don’t play dumb. I see that look in your eyes, I know you put up this cold front but seems as though she’s melting it down.” She readjusted her glasses “a little young but hmph! I get it. Better go get her before someone else does.”

“Tch. Shut up.” he abruptly stood up and followed in your footsteps.

Eventually catching up as he found you walking in the hq. “I told you to leave me alone” you frowned.

“I’m the one who gives orders around here brat.”

“Go boss around someone else then” you went to walk away and he grabbed your hand.

“No. You’re gonna stay and listen to me.” He began to get annoyed now. “And drop the attitude brat. You know i care, probably too much so quit acting like I don’t. I shouldn’t have pushed you away but I was trying to do what’s best for you. If I keep you to myself you don’t get a chance with any other guy your age.”

“But that’s my decision Levi, and I don’t want any other guy. I want you.” You interrupted, looking into his eyes. He now grabbed your face, and leaned closer “I didn’t say you could talk.” He then glided his thumb over your lower lip.

“It’s dangerous to live in a world like this.” Her brows lifted then caressed your jaw.

“I don’t care about that.” You batted your eyelashes up at him and he kissed you.

~

[sst4rdst]

synopsis : you ran away from scaramouche, so he carved his name into your skin so you'll never be able to forget him. pairing : scaramouche x reader (no gendered pronouns used for reader) warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, forcefully cutting someone, reader can be interpreted as broken at the end. author's note : heyyy i'm back from my short break! i'm not sick anymore which means it time to brainrot about 2d characters :]

there is something about the way he looks at you that unsettles you more than the sharp edge of the blade in his hand. it is not anger. not hatred. not even frustration. no, the expression he wears is something much worse. it is fondness.

a quiet, unwavering fondness—one that does not waver even as he presses cold steel to your skin, even as his fingers tighten around your wrist to keep you from pulling away. there is something almost delicate about the way he holds you, something careful and precise, as if he is handling something precious. and in his mind, he is.

you are precious. not in the way one cherishes a lover. not in the way one treasures something fragile. you are his in the way an artist cherishes a masterpiece. in the way a collector cradles a rare, irreplaceable artifact. in the way something valuable is kept under lock and key, not to be admired by anyone else, not to be touched, not to be taken.

scaramouche does not let go of the things that belong to him. and you, foolish thing, have tried to forget.

you had left him. had run. had dared to pretend as if he had never existed, as if you could erase him with enough time, with enough distance, with enough stubborn, stupid hope that he would let you be.

he had allowed it—for a time. had let you play pretend. had watched, unseen, as you rebuilt yourself, as you carried on with your life, as if he had never left his mark on you. but you had been mistaken.

because his presence is not something that can be erased. his influence does not simply fade. he is not something fleeting, something temporary, something that can be discarded so easily. not anymore. and now, he will make sure you understand that.

"you have a terrible memory, don’t you?" his voice is soft, conversational, the edge of amusement laced beneath it sending a shiver crawling down your spine. "that’s alright. i can fix that."

he shifts his grip, and you realize that your trembling is useless, that your struggles are laughable in comparison to the way he holds you still with such little effort. your pulse is erratic, your breath unsteady, but he is calm. so unbearably calm. as if this moment is something he has long since accepted. as if this was always inevitable.

the first drag of the knife against your skin is slow. purposeful. it is not an act of anger, not a careless slash meant to punish or wound. no, it is careful. meticulous. his name is something to be written with reverence, something to be etched into you like a signature upon a masterpiece.

it stings, sharp and searing, but the sound that leaves you is more of a gasp than a cry. he presses down just enough to ensure it will not fade. just enough to make sure that when the wound heals, the scar will remain. a mark of possession. a reminder.

"there," he exhales, almost to himself, as he lifts the blade away. his fingers ghost over your skin, tracing over the fresh carving, his touch unnervingly gentle. "now you won’t forget."

your breath is still uneven when he tilts your chin up, his gaze searching, as if expecting something—tears, anger, resistance. but he finds none of it. and that, more than anything, pleases him.

he smiles, the expression neither kind nor cruel, but something in between. "good."

and you know, with a sinking certainty, that this is only the beginning.